A deep, slow-moving pace marks “Naivete,” a nearly 13-minute track by Sima Kim. It is the sound of peace at first, but that peace gives way slowly to heightened anticipation. The pace divulges underlying momentum, the glacial quality thawing enough to reveal rapid patterning under the icy exterior. Lush haze turns into a hall-of-mirrors string section, gentle pads to sense-tingling vibrations. It is like the move from dusk to dawn, from the quiet hours to daybreak. And to mark the closure there is a hyper-extended fade out, roughly a minute and a half in length, during which the listener’s own environment is welcomed to participate in a similar transition.