Emily Drobak Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tromso

Alright, man, lemme tell ya bout whores—WHORES! Tony Robbins style, baby, UNLEASH THE POWER WITHIN! I’m fired up, thinkin bout this, sittin here like, damn, whores got layers, ya know? Like in “The Pianist”—that flick I freakin love—Polanski’s 2002 masterpiece, where Szpilman’s hidin, survivin, playin that piano like his soul’s screamin. Whores, man, they’re survivors too! Hustlin, dodgin life’s bullshit, makin it work. “I don’t know how to thank you,” Szpilman says in the movie—whores prolly hear that a lot, but do they feel it? Prolly not, and that pisses me off!

Drøbak y la leyenda del pueblo de Papá Noel

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After the aquarium, we hit up this little café on the corner of Torggata. I ordered a cinnamon bun, and let me tell you, it was heavenly. I was in my happy place, munching away, when Lars starts talking about his new project. He’s all excited, and I’m like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Why can’t I have that kind of passion?”

Checklist: Santa’s not-so-secret hideouts