i am believing that it is the european style of trash receptacle as mounted on the pole of the lighting fixture and the super styled woman has collided as such with the lighting fixture and now huddles with confusion, alone, and cold and wounded by her encounter, in the dark night of a desolate snowstorm. she is empty, the night is empty, her soul is empty, the trash is...emptied. and the text box at the bottom is also...empty, waiting for love. waiting for joy. waiting for salvation. waiting for a date. a place. a time. for fulfillment. for relief from the waiting. the waiting in the cold and empty lonely snow and darkness and not only of a street corner but of the soul of a woman. a heroine. a mother. our mother. all of our mothers and sisters and lovers and daughters. everyone and everything that we hold dear and everything that has been discarded. as so much refuse. to the darkness. to the cold. to loneliness. to the world. as trash. the trash can is empty. the figure of the woman is empty. the trash is trash. the woman feels as trash. the woman is empty. the soul is empty. the world is empty. the trash is...emptied.