We had never set foot in Holland. Her favorite flowers are tulips. So we left, just like that. At the end of the road, a field opened up, immense, ordered like a score: row after row, the color held the note. Ballad in Holland is the trace of this momentum. The perspective gently draws the gaze, the petals capture the light, the wind makes the hues dance. We can almost hear the silence that settles when we decide to truly live in the moment. Hanging on the wall, the photograph plays this role: slowing down, letting the room breathe, letting the color warm the everyday.