Standing alone, you can see beauty in the dullest things. Browned weeds, trembling in a little breeze; concrete pillars between metal bars; street-lamps high and garbage low upon the street-side. Standing alone, it all harmonizes. Colors meld and blur, coalescing into a subtly varied palette of wheat and barley, flax and iron. Old stones, new pavement, thrown together into this scene and somehow making it, no matter how contrasting.
Standing alone, you can see that the beauty is in the way the golden light of afternoon slants over the street-side, and how a figure in purple sets off the deeper tones in everything around her. The weeds are now picturesque--waving tendrils of deadened springtime--and the pavement is romanticized--an empty road leading somewhere. All because of that figure, standing alone.