This is a sound born in the hour before dawn, when the river loses its boundaries and becomes mist. A pulsation akin to the breath of a sleeping earth. The structure of the melody is as if glimmers of sunlight penetrate the deep water, shimmer and shatter, carried by a leisurely yet inexorable current. In every sound, one can hear the warmth of wood and the coolness of stone, and the rhythm is not a beat, but a pulse, barely perceptible, like a distant call