Elizabeth Egilsstadir Brothel ❤️❤️

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But then, I get mad—some pimp’s beatin’ on ‘em, or the johns get rough. Makes my blood boil, I’d whack ‘em myself, but—eh, I’m just talkin’ here. “A woman’s voice is her weapon,” *Moolaadé* says. Damn right! These girls, they talk back, they survive. I respect that, even if the whole thing’s messy. Brothel’s like life, fam—dirty, loud, and you’re in or you’re out! Gabagool? Ova here! Whaddya think?

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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.”

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