There are four children. The garden belongs entirely to them.

The first wears his chequered hat like a crown – he holds a rope and strides forward with that quiet confidence of children who always have a plan. The second smiles that secret smile that needs no explanation and asks no questions.
The third is on the red horse. That wooden horse that goes nowhere and yet goes everywhere. He stands on it with the serious concentration of a rider who senses that his mount might really take off at any moment.
The red horse is the only truly red object in this picture of greens and blues. It glows softly in the grass like an ember.
And the fourth – in the background – head raised towards the sky, arms outstretched. There is a balloon up there. A string rising up. That light, round thing that always slips away just a little higher than arms can reach. He watches it with the absolute concentration of children faced with something that eludes them.
One holds its rope. The other keeps its secret. The third rides the motionless.
And the fourth is already learning what it means to watch something go.