Woman's furious shout distorted by ultra-wide lens in green light

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A vertical phone snapshot, shot handheld on an ultra wide front facing lens held very close to a woman's face, the frame tilted slightly off level. She
is in her early twenties, mid shout  caught in the single instant a word is
leaving her open mouth, teeth and the edge of her tongue showing, lips pulled
back hard and unevenly.

Her face has the gaunt, severe bones of a Russian fashion model: narrow oval
face, high hard cheekbones, a long straight nose, hollow cheeks, a small
pointed chin, low straight brows, pale grey blue eyes. But the ultra wide
lens this close deforms her the nose enlarged and pushed toward the camera,
the centre of the face bulging slightly forward, the ears and jaw falling
away and shrinking toward the soft corners of the frame. The shout drives
everything: brows pinched down to a crease between them, nostrils flared, a
tendon standing out in her neck, one side of the lip lifting higher than the
other.

The light is a single greenish-white fluorescent tube overhead. It hits the
top of her face flat and hard a hot blown highlight across her forehead and
the bridge of her nose, the same shine on the tops of her cheekbones while
dropping black shadows into her eye sockets and under her chin. The green
cast greys her cool pale skin and turns the cold flush on her cheeks into
uneven blotches rather than colour. Skin is bare and textured: open pores,
dry flaking lips, oily sheen, faint blemishes, dark tired under-eyes. Her
makeup has worn down eyeliner smudged into the lower lid, mascara slightly clumped, lipstick faded to a patchy mauve. Her ash blonde hair with dark roots is fine and flat, scraped into a loose ponytail; damp strands stick
across her forehead and one cheek, and loose flyaways catch the tube as
bright single threads against the dark behind her.

Thrust closest to the lens, in the very foreground, is her other hand raised
in a middle finger gesture. Because it is nearest the ultra wide lens it is
the largest thing in frame, fingers foreshortened and ballooned, and it is
out of focus and smeared with motion blur from the handheld shot a soft
blur over her sharp angry face, which stays the point of focus. Her near hand
grips a clear frosted glass bottle beaded with running condensation; the
fluorescent tube smears as one bright streak down the wet glass, and the
label is a plain black shape with no legible text.

She is dressed like cheap nightlife, left waiting too long in the cold: a
pale lavender sleeveless zip up athletic vest, high collar, black zip pulled
half-down so the collar gapes over black straps underneath, the shiny
synthetic fabric creased and catching the green white tube as hard specular
streaks. A very short dark fitted skirt, sheer black tights with a run
laddering down one shin, scuffed black ankle boots, thin cheap silver
jewellery, a small cross at her throat.

Behind her the garage falls away dim and out of focus only a few things
legible: one stained concrete pillar, the bright tube and its smear on the
ceiling, the dark shape of a parked car. Everything else is shadow and grain.

It reads as a real low light phone capture: auto exposure pulled to the bright tube so the highlights blow out and the shadows crush into colour noise, the wide lens bowing the verticals at the edges, nothing retouched.