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Its story

Lupus, that southern constellation howling in ancient myths beside the Centaur, hosts an orange star whose light crossed three hundred and sixty-nine years before arriving. It set out when Pascal and Fermat were laying the foundations of probability theory in a correspondence that would change science. It is an ageing giant with a surface cooler than the Sun’s, that coolness which paints twilights with copper. Modest to the unaided eye, it occupies a deep corner of the southern sky, rich with galactic dust.