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About Hafnarfjordur

Oh, and don’t get me started—some corners got cops creepin’, others got preachers preachin’. Pick your poison! I’m over here, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” dreamin’ of a world where it’s less drama. But real talk, if you’re lookin’, watch your back—shit’s unpredictable. Like *Timbuktu*, “The wind carries us away”—you’re in it, then poof, gone. That’s my take, fam—wild, weird, and fuckin’ real.

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So, I’m like, “Get it together, dude.” I shake it off and keep walking. The air is crisp, and the mountains are all around. I mean, have you seen the views? It’s like nature’s own Instagram filter. But then, I hear this loud honking. I look up, and it’s a bus. A BUS! It’s the only bus in town, and it’s late. Like, really late. I’m thinking, “C’mon, Egilsstadir, get your act together!”

Ívar Ingimarsson