Mango Tongue...

Thoughts. Ramblings. Heavy-hipped. Mango-obsessed.

Good Morning, World...

There's this guy.   I see him often.

Like clockwork, at around 10.30am most days, he'll walk past, empty the remnants of his beer can down his throat and chuck it in a wheelie bin.

Same routine. Same wheelie bin.

Today, he walks past...opening a fresh 7.36am.

Meanwhile, minutes earlier, a prostitute pigeoned round the bus stop looking for cigarette stubs.

A car beeps her.

Minutes before that, a woman who's lost her mind doesn't get on the bus like she usually does. Or the one after.

She disappears behind a tree. Down a rabbit hole.