The myriad spiral galaxies in our universe almost all look like fried eggs. A central bulge of aging stars is like the egg yolk, surrounded by a disk of stars that are the egg white. The galaxy in this Hubble photo looks like it is sliding off the frying pan. The central bulge is off in one corner relative to the surrounding disk of bright young blue stars. In reality, the stars on the right side of the galaxy are being pulled like taffy by the gravitational tug of a neighboring galaxy, not seen in this close-up view. Galaxies are not solid objects but tenuous agglomerations of tens of billions of stars. When two galaxies come close to each other they feel each other's gravity and are distorted, like pulling on cotton candy. It's the universe's equivalent of the 19th century children's poem about two stuffed animals—the gingham dog and calico cat—who got into a spat and ate each other. It's not so dramatic in this case. The galaxies are only getting a little chewed up because of their close proximity.