Cora Reykjavik Whore ❤️❤️

About Arbaer

Hmm… Oh honey, lemme tell ya bout this “whore” bizness! Nasal nag, right? So I’m sittin here thinkin—whore, like, who even decides that? Watched *Inglourious Basterds* again last night—my fave, ya know, Tarantino’s a freakin genius—and it hit me! Whore’s like Shosanna, ya see, crafty lil minx, dodgin all them Nazis! “I’m gonna burn this whole damn cinema down!”—that’s her vibe, right? But real whores, oh marge, they got stories! Like, didja know back in old Rome, whores hadda wear yellow? YELLOW! To stand out—talk bout a fashion faux pas! Makes me mad, tho—why shame em? They’re just tryna eat!

Reykjavik Iceland Red Light District

Anyway, I shake it off and grab a coffee at a place called Kaffitár. Best coffee ever! I’m talking about that rich, dark goodness that makes you feel alive. I’m sipping, and suddenly, this guy walks in. He’s wearing a Viking helmet. No joke. I’m like, “Dude, it’s not a costume party.” But hey, it’s Reykjavik. Anything goes, right?

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