Helen Levitt leaves viewers in a state of suspended speculation. From an empty vehicle, an angled sidewalk, and the figure of a boy, she assembles, with an exceptional economy of form, an image charged with beauty and mystery. Levitt had an astute aesthetic sense that included radical framing and razor-sharp insight into what was both ordinary and moving about human behaviour. Children, who live in the moment and play with unparalleled vigour, offered Levitt rewarding opportunities to see the world afresh, yet she professed no special affection for them. "People think I love children," she said, "but I don’t. It was just that children were out in the streets."