The cover art shows many streams entering a lake, and rising to mist in the warmth of the setting sun. Improvisation is like the water, transmutable, reflective. It carries in it, what it has touched, what it has lived. When we think of improvisation, we might also think of Jazz, and patterns of city life, a specific kind of human togetherness, that it spoke throughout the 20th century. If the improvisations of Tilman Kanitz and Ernstalbrecht Stiebler are of that lineage, you could say, that their Jazz, their improvisation, takes place in the undoing of those patterns. Their improvisation is reflective of an evolution in human togetherness, one which integrates vastness, emptiness, darkness, radiance, like the language of landscapes, rain, sunlight, cosmos, consciousness. It is the water which has touched aloneness and uncertainty, yet is fluid, curious, playful, even blissful. It is the water which does not name, does not judge, but flows, sparkles, dances.