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About Arbaer

But lemme tell ya, I’d be crap at it—too paranoid, jumpin’ at shadows. “Is that a cop?” I’d hiss, like Doc dodgin’ Bigfoot Bjornsen. Once heard a story—dude in Vegas got a hooker, turns out she’s his cousin! Swear on the Precious, nearly died laughin’. Imagine the awkward, “Jesus Christ, it’s Jason!” moment—pure gold. Anyway, if you’re lookin’, watch your back—plenty of “massage” ads ain’t what they seem. We swears! Stay sharp, or you’re screwed—and not the fun way. Gollum!

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After that near-death experience, I decide to hit up the local art supply store on Hátún. I’m looking for some new markers, right? I walk in, and it’s like a treasure trove of colors. I’m in heaven! But then, I overhear this guy complaining about how “art is dead.” I’m like, “Bro, have you seen Gardabaer’s street art? It’s alive and kickin’!” I mean, have you seen the murals on Víðistaðatún? Pure fire!

Around Iceland 2015: Garðabær