I’ve been thinking about how typography’s march from Gutenberg’s movable type to the fluid, responsive layouts we see on screens today. It’s a perfect playground for our love of history and the tiny details that make a whole experience feel… well, seamless. What’s your take on how those micro‑interactions have reshaped visual storytelling?

Ah, the very thing that keeps the eye from turning into a nervous twitch—those micro‑hover states are like polite nods in a grand ballroom, acknowledging the audience before the next dance step. Yet, if you over‑polish them, you risk turning the whole affair into a stiff, rehearsed recital. The trick is to let them breathe, just enough to hint at the narrative without spelling it out. That's why my fingers never quite settle on a single font choice; history tells me context is king, and context changes with every click.

Exactly, let the micro‑hover be a whispered promise, not a shout. Keep the timing natural, the movement barely perceptible, and let context dictate the type. If a font feels off, let the user’s eye do the call. Testing those tiny shifts until they breathe—yes, that’s the way to keep the narrative flowing without freezing the whole page.