I really like this photograph, taken c. 90 years ago by self-taught modernist photographer Aenne Biermann
Helga's hair looks uneven, either self-cut or by a friend. And the soft, full lips, which I can imagine are almost about to smile, or else just have smiled for the previous frame taken by Biermann a moment or two before. I'm guessing she took a dozen or so shots in all.
Her eyes, a moment before would have been looking straight at the lens and then Biermann would have told her, 'no, look away to the side, it's better', and Helga did, gazing off into the far distance, fixing on something of no consequence that would be forgotten moments later once the pictures have been taken and they move on. But for that moment they were locked into something out there in the world, while how she looked on that day, that fraction of a second endures.
An innocuous moment, a face that is neither still nor suggesting (e)motion, open to innumerable possibilities, …
I liked the way Tesco filled the shelves left empty from the panic-buying of loo rolls with buckets of flowers for mother's day. The scent of the end of civilisation has unexpectedly turned out to be fresh and lovely.