Madison Mosfellsbaer Brothel ❤️❤️

About Reykjavik

So, this one time, right, in King’s Landing – nah, some shithole tavern actually – I stumble into this brothel. Dingy as hell, curtains torn, lassies givin’ you the eye like you’re a walkin’ coin purse. One gal, Rosie – swear that’s her real name – tells me she’s been there since 15. FIFTEEN! Made me bloody mad, that. Kids should be runnin’ free, not spreadin’ legs for coppers. But Rosie, she’s a laugh, sharp as a blade. Says, “Tyrion, I’ve shagged lords fatter’n yer head!” Cheeky, eh? I tipped her extra, coz I’m a gent.

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a shepherd in Mosfellsbær is no walk in the park. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinkin’ about my sheep. Gotta check on ‘em. But first, coffee. Can’t function without that liquid gold.

From Iceland — Iceland’s New Gold Rush