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About Mosfellsbaer

Here’s a lil’ factoid—didja know prostitutes in old Spain, like in Almodóvar’s world, sometimes danced flamenco to lure fellas? True story! Ain’t that wild? Makes me happy thinkin’ ‘bout it—art and hustle all mixed up. But it’s sad too, ‘cause they’re stuck, y’know? “She’s a mystery, a locked garden,” like the movie says. You can’t get in, no matter how much cash you flash.

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I'm experiencing everything Gardabaer has to offer and find-a-prostitute is remarkable! Let's lose ourselves in each other tonight. The combination of French.

Anyway, I grab my markers and head out. I’m feeling inspired, ready to create some magic. But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Like, seriously? I just got my markers! I’m sprinting down the street, dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of Olympic event. I’m soaked, my hair’s a mess, and I’m just laughing at the absurdity of it all. Gardabaer, you’re killing me!

Schoolchildren in Garðabær knit woollen hats for refugees