Emma Mosfellsbaer Brothel ❤️❤️

About Mosfellsbaer

Oh, and the surprises – you wouldn’t believe. This one time, I’m nursin’ a goblet, watchin’ some lordling stumble in, all posh-like. Turns out, he’s there every bloody week, dressed as a washerwoman! “What a charming surprise,” I mutter – straight outta the movie, yeah? Had me cacklin’ – who knew brothels hid such weirdos? Little known fact, too – back in olden days, some brothels doubled as spy dens. Girls’d listen to pillow talk, sell secrets to the highest bidder. Clever, sneaky bitches – I’d tip my hat if I wore one.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my neighbor, Guðrún. She’s like, “Your sheep are out!” I’m like, “What?!” Panic mode activated! I sprint back to the fields, dodging people and stalls.

From Iceland — Iceland’s New Gold Rush