She approaches — ancient, radiant, and on a slow, holy collision course with our own.

She’s vast. Visible to the naked eye. And she’s moving — not away, but toward us.
The Andromeda Galaxy, also known as M31, is our sister, our mirror, our future. Stretching over 220,000 light-years across, she holds a trillion stars — each one burning alone, yet woven into a single body.

This is no distant postcard from space. This is prophecy: in 4 billion years, Andromeda and the Milky Way will merge in a cosmic union — not an explosion, but an unfolding. Galaxies do not crash like cars. They pass through each other, slow and cataclysmic, rewriting their structure in silence.

Andromeda shines with the chill of something deeply known — as if she remembers us.
As if, somehow, she is returning.

Let this be your reminder:
What is distant now may one day arrive.
What you fear colliding with… may transform you completely.