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About Seltjarnarnes

So, prostitutes—wild, right? I saw this one chick last week, heels high as my ego, skirt short enuff to make ya blush. She’s out there, rain pourin, and I’m like, “Honey, where’s your umbrella?” Total “Schrödinger” moment—alive, dead, who knows? Hella respect tho, takes guts to hustle like that. Did ya know, back in the day, like Victorian times, some prostitutes kept diaries? Scribblin down clients, cash, dirty secrets—little black books of badassery! Bet they’d laugh at my typos, tho.