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About Seltjarnarnes

Here’s the rub—she weren’t no angel, nah. Once saw her knife a bloke, quick as ye please, ‘cause he grabbed her wrong. Blood on the cobbles, and she just spat, “He earned it.” Reminded me o’ Haneke’s line, “the cruelty beneath the calm.” She was that, all right—sweet one sec, savage the next. Made me twitchy, but damn, I admired her grit. Savvy?

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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.

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