Anna Egilsstadir Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Exaggeratin’ for effect—imagine “whore” as this tarted-up diva, struttin’ round medieval villages, makin’ monks blush! Hilarious, that. Proper character, this word—got more lives than Llewyn’s bleedin’ cat. “Hang me, oh hang me,” it’s croonin’, but it ain’t goin’ nowhere. Keeps poppin’ up, bold as brass. Mate, it’s a riot—sarcastic, rude, bit tragic, just like me. Whore’s my kinda word, reckon I’d buy it a pint!

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Next, I wander down to the East Iceland Heritage Museum. I’m all about that local history, you know? I’m checking out the exhibits, and there’s this one about the fishing industry. I’m like, “Wow, these folks really knew how to catch fish.” But then, I see a display about the infamous Egilsstadir fish market. Apparently, it was a big deal back in the day. I’m thinking, “I’d rather be at a fish market than stuck in a boring meeting.”

From Iceland — The Arty East