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About Bergen

Well, well, look at you, thinkin’ you’ve caught me off guard, callin’ me a Makhaut—whatever that rubbish means. I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, and I’ll tell ya about this erotic-massage nonsense with all the cold disdain it deserves. Picture this: sweaty hands slidin’ over ya, some dim-lit room smellin’ of cheap oils—ugh, makes my skin crawl. “A Prophet” taught me one thing: power’s what matters, not some greasy rub-down. Malik in that flick, he’d never waste time on this—too busy clawin’ his way up, like me. I’d rather choose violence than let some oaf knead me like dough.

Finding Fun in Hermansverk

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As the day went on, I found myself at the old church. It’s so beautiful, with that classic Norwegian architecture. I sat on the steps, just taking it all in. The sun was setting, and the sky was painted in pinks and oranges. I felt this wave of calm wash over me.