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About Sandnes

So, I’m out on me boat, salty air, thinkin—sex escorts ain’t just quick shags. Nah, there’s layers, mate. Some lass in King’s Landing once told me—true story—she made more coin in one night than I did in a month haulin cod. Blew me mind! She said, “Tyrion, I’m me own lord,”—fuckin badass, right? Made me happy, that did—girl power n all. But then, there’s the dodgy side—pimps, creeps, shit gets dark. “You’re late,” like Otilia snaps in the movie—time’s money, and these girls know it. Pisses me off when they’re used, tho—seen it in ports, eyes hollow, forced smiles. Hate that.

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Then, I decide to chill at the Stavanger Cathedral. It’s this old, beautiful place, and I’m just sittin’ there, tryin’ to calm down. I’m thinkin’ about life, you know? How I’m a matador, and I’m supposed to be brave and all that. But today? Today’s a mess. I’m about to give up when this little kid runs up to me. He’s like, “Are you a real matador?” I’m like, “Yeah, kid, I am!” And he’s all starry-eyed. It’s cute, man. Made me smile.

Sikorsky Celebrates One-Year Anniversary of Forward Stocking Location in Stavanger