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About Akureyri

Here I am, mates, narrating—calm, rhythmic—like nature’s own pulse. Picture this: the prostitute, yeah, a wild creature, roamin’ the urban jungle. Works the streets, bold as brass, tradin’ flesh for cash. Ain’t no shame in her game, nah, she’s out there, survivin’. Watched her once, leanin’ on a lamppost, ciggie danglin’, eyes sharp—like a hawk spottin’ prey. Reminds me of *Brokeback Mountain*, that line, “I wish I knew how to quit you.” She’s hooked, see, can’t quit the hustle, even if it tears her up inside.

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Anyway, I finally get back to it. I’m in my zone, right? Then, I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, a bunch of tourists are tryin’ to take selfies with the river in the background. They’re blocking my spot! I’m like, “Yo, this ain’t a photo op, it’s a fishing spot!” But they just smile and wave. Ugh, tourists, am I right?

Móberg Nursing Home in Iceland aims to be a home where architecture heals