There are extraterrestrial contacts that could be, and (some may argue) will be made in the distant future.
Life, or something that resembles our own kind of biological definition, will be in proximity for us to glean, wonder, examine, and transcribe. Vice versa, of course. But there is another kind of ‘Contact’, and there is the self induced, introspective kind. Where the only existing phenomenon is you. You, the warrior of this footprint; a galant bastion for what it means to ‘live’. A self examination of a kind, is hard to do. Self criticisms and deep, Orwellian diagnosis is hard to come by. Or even harder is to accept your downright honest conclusions. We think this single by Colin Stetson is that ‘Contact’ of the former. There’s nothing that physics can tell of the rest of the Universe.
There’s a little bit more complexity in the questions of the heart, however. This horn injected manifestation is fabulously written, as it projects in diversity of angles.
Angles, upon gray. Gray, upon shadows. Milked into revelry.