Upon arriving at Hana’s house, Mazzuccchelli reveals that Asterios is not the only one who has changed. In the same way that Asterios learned to incorporate Hana’s perspective, Hana has also shifted to match a little of Asterios’s.
Hana’s art, which had previously been organic in nature and composed primarily of curved lines, has taken on the geometric, systematic form that Asterios had so often strived for.  
The last time he viewed her art, he could only monologue about what he valued. This time, he is able to simply admire her work. Both characters have at last learned how appreciate the other’s perspective without having to entirely let go of what they enjoy.  

Everything seems to be going well for Asterios and Hana, which makes the ending of the novel that much more jarring. As Hana and Asterios sit together in companionable silence, Mazzucchelli cuts to outside of the house—and reveals that a giant asteroid is hurtling towards them, about to destroy the dwelling and those inside. The ending seems like a non sequitur at best, and a cruel joke at worst. In sending the asteroid, however, Mazzucchelli demonstrates that no matter how much people broadens their perspective, something is always going to be missed.  Like the incident involving the importance of Kalvin’s limp, there was no reason for Asterios to believe that an asteroid was coming.
Asterios has learned that his perspective is not large enough to account for everything, which allows him to pay attention to details he might have otherwise missed.  

Recognizing that it would be tempting to see the asteroid exclusively in a negative light, in the final pages of the novel Mazzucchelli zooms out and brings the reader back to Apogee, where the family that Asterios stayed with is stargazing in the tree house that Asterios helped build.
The asteroid that had been a flaming ball of death from Asterios’s perspective represents nothing more than the opportunity to “make a wish” from Jackson’s. Where a person is standing can make all the difference in how he or she chooses to interpret an event, and no situation has just one “right” perspective. Because of human fallibility and limited knowledge, something will always be missing.

These limitations inherent in perspective carry into all walks of life. For the Christian, it can be tempting to claim to have the only true “Christian perspective” on a topic. A quick search —even at an academic level—for Christian perspectives generates results ranging from how Christians should think about psychotherapy to how they should think about mathematics. While there is certainly nothing wrong with making an argument for a Christian perspective, it becomes dangerous when one is arguing for the Christian perspective. Most concerns are circumstantial in nature, which can make broad, sweeping generalizations that over simplify. Additionally, as Asterios learned, it is always possible—if not entirely likely—that the Christian writers are missing some key detail in their understanding of the situation, which could drastically change the perspective they are presenting.
