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Oh, and the weird shit—ever hear bout “ghosting”? Hooked up with this one guy—total stud—then poof, gone. No text, no nothin’. Felt like that scene, “Where’s the baby, Kee?”—empty, spooky. Freaked me out! But I’m Bugs, see, I bounce back. Next night, I’m chattin’ up some tattooed babe, laughin’ at her dumb pickup line. “You’re my carrot, big boy.” Ha! Cracked me up.

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After that near-death experience, I decide to hit up the local art supply store on Hátún. I’m looking for some new markers, right? I walk in, and it’s like a treasure trove of colors. I’m in heaven! But then, I overhear this guy complaining about how “art is dead.” I’m like, “Bro, have you seen Gardabaer’s street art? It’s alive and kickin’!” I mean, have you seen the murals on Víðistaðatún? Pure fire!

From Iceland — Seagull Turf Wars In Garðabær