A few years ago, I ventured on an enchanting journey to Nasu, a striking region nestled within the Nasu Volcanic Belt. This extraordinary locale is home to a harmonious coexistence of northern and southern plant species. Tucked away at the foot of the Nasu Mountains, Yokozawa sits at an elevation of roughly 550 metres, forming a captivating middle mountainous region extending from the plains to the forests that dominate the landscape. Entitled "Water Garden," Junya Ishigami's architectural masterpiece gracefully nestles amidst the rolling foothills of Japan's Nasu Mountains. Embracing the essence of nature, this ever-evolving earthwork landscape ebbs and flows in a spellbinding dance between man and the environment. Its shifting appearance, dictated by the nuances of time and season, invites contemplative dialogues that blur the lines between architecture, landscape design, art, and environmentalism. Seeking to encapsulate the memories and history of the forests, paddy fields, and meadows, Ishigami's vision layers the materials native to the land, reflecting a redesign process that nurtures humanity's return to nature. This reclamation unfolds on a human timescale, contrasting the gradual progression of the natural world. The innovative approach - sculpting space without imposing built objects - relies heavily on the emotional and sensory experiences of the observer, rooted in the context and qualities of the landscape. The result: a profoundly poetic terrain that powerfully impacts visitors on an emotional level. Although meticulously crafted and reliant on technological artefacts, the garden embodies both the artificial and the innate - a living, breathing entity that thrives and transforms by its own inherent dynamics. The temporal aspects of the landscape are unveiled through the interweaving of past, present, and future layers. This album, an ode to my Nasu journey, immerses listeners in the symphony of nature. As the water murmurs softly through the narrow valley, it crescendos with each step, ultimately melding with the whispers of leaves. The rustling trees, verdant moss, stepping stones, and 160 distinct biotopes in the garden change and evolve with time, converging in a mellifluous harmony. Mizuniwa, a sanctuary for philosophical contemplation, mirrors the inner self of the listener. Kenji Miyazawa's description of a landscape as "dressing the scenery, redesigning it, and making higher-order hidden in nature visible" perfectly encapsulates the essence of this auditory experience.