Jump. Painting

Inspiration? Is for beginners. Autumn evening. Left minimum-wage-slavery. Some hairy-faced woman management giving persona grief all day. Characteristic body odours and or halitosis. You'd faint. Telling me how superior she is, she's are, to persona, and men generally. Made it to 'bus stop. Wearily sat on bench facing a shop-window. Gleaming guitars, in bright electric lights. Three, maybe four lads, early 20's, had come to stop after persona had sat. Standing there, they started shouting "Jump, jump, jump". Persona and others looked at direction of their shout, across road. Realisation. A posh hotel. Balconies with railings, and on one, perched most precariously, a woman tiny against stone façade. Holding onto wall but poised to jump. Lads continue to call out, "jump, jump". Were they calling what they perceived as a bluff? Or are they to be denigrated as lower order in some British Class System way? Such having sensibility-deficiency? If so, why? Persona did not call out, "jump". But was, is, indifferent. Another "Frankly my dear" moment. Humanity, if it is that, long since beaten out of persona by system. Goes around, comes around. A figure at a nearby lit window watched apparent suicide closely, but made no overt gesture. Night fell, 'bus arrived, persona wearily boarded. Now: Who is the victim? The suicide? The lads who called, "jump"?. Or this true persona? If all are victims then, perhaps, there are no victims. Jump. Life goes on. Or: “It was easy enough to kill yourself in a fit of despair. It was easy enough to play the martyr. It was harder to do nothing. To endure your life. To wait.” (wait for a 'bus that is) Erica Jong, Fear of Flying