Brianna Reykjavik Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Favorite movie fits perfect—*Werckmeister*’s all slow dread, right? Brothel’s that too, floatin’ in the abyss, makin’ you feel small. Exaggeratin’ for drama? Maybe, but picture this: glowin’ lure flickerin’ like a busted neon sign outside a shady joint—temptin’, but you’re screwed if you bite. Smug lil’ shit, I’d tip my hat if I had one. Oh, and the teeth—jagged, like a methhead’s grin, fuckin’ terrifyin’ up close.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

They set up the very first “Poetry Brothel,” an immersive event set against various backdrops, from the fin-de-siècle Parisian bordello to the.

Next, I’m wandering around Tjörnin, the lake in the middle of the city. It’s so pretty, with ducks and swans just chillin’. I sit on a bench, and this old man starts feeding the birds. I’m thinking, “Man, I wanna be that chill when I’m old.” But then, the ducks start fighting over the bread. It’s like a scene from a nature documentary. I’m cracking up, and the old man gives me a look like I’m the crazy one.

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