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But—here’s wot gets me blood boilin’—some prudes call it dirty! Dirty? It’s art, ye bilge rats! Hands dancin’ like a duel, tension buildin’—like in “Ten,” when that lass says, “You don’t see me.” Aye, ye don’t *see* the magic ‘til it hits ye! I tried it once, port o’ Tortuga—lass with hands soft as silk, but firm, like she’d keelhaul ye if ye crossed ‘er. Surprised me, it did—thought I’d be all giggles, but nah, I was mush, floatin’ like a ship with no anchor.

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As the day winds down, I head back to the river. The sunset is insane, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I sit there, just chillin’, thinkin’ about how crazy today was. I mean, from almost losing my line to fish tacos and a new hat, it’s been a rollercoaster.

Ölfusárbrú bridge