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About Reykjavik

I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t tickle me—me, Dolly, ponderin’ brothels! Maybe I’d sashay in, singin’ “Jolene,” givin’ them gals a laugh. “Don’t take my man, honey,” I’d tease, waggin’ a finger. Oh, I’d probly trip over a feather boa and land in a heap—typical me! Still, I’d tell em, “Live simple, love deep,” like that monk taught me. Ain’t that what matters, brothel or not?