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About Reykjavik

Brothels, man, they’re old as fuck—did ya know ancient Pompeii had ‘em? Lupanar, they called it, walls scratched with dick reviews—true story, motherfucker! I’m talkin’ graffiti like, “This chick’s the shit!” Makes me laugh my ass off—ancient Yelp for hookers! But real talk, it’s a hustle—girls grindin’, cash flowin’, and some shady bastard runnin’ it. Pisses me off, ‘cause half the time they’re trapped, y’know?

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After that, I decided to stroll down to the harbor. The smell of the sea was insane. I could almost taste the salt in the air. And then I saw this fisherman, right? He was hauling in his nets, and I thought, “Dude, that’s some serious dedication.” I mean, who wakes up at the crack of dawn to catch fish? Not me, that’s for sure.

British Airways 777 Diverts To Gander, Then Keflavik: What A Journey!