Zoey Selfoss Brothel ❤️❤️

About Arbaer

I reckon it’s a machine—cold, brutal, efficient. Girls clock in, clock out, like factory drones. Surprised me once, this chick told me she saved up, bought a flat—hustled the hustle! Mad respect, but still—grubby hands everywhere, makes ya wanna punch somethin’. I’d burn it down, but then what? They’d rebuild, coz men are pigs—me included, ha! “Don’t bullshit me,” I’d say, like Toni’s dad—truth’s ugly here.

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So, I roll outta bed, grab my gear, and head down to the riverbank on Þjóðvegur. The sun's barely up, and the water's glistening like it’s tryin’ to show off. I’m thinkin’, “Today’s the day I catch the big one!” But first, coffee. Gotta fuel up, right? I swing by the local café, Kaffi Selfoss. Best coffee in town, no cap. I order my usual—black, strong, and a pastry that’s probably gonna ruin my diet. But who cares? Life’s too short!

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