A mural on a city wall is a banner held high in the streets, just as a tapestry hung in a castle hall is a banner held high in a hall. Both are meant to be seen, both carry the colours and symbols of the bearer, and both whisper to those who pass by who holds the power. A tapestry is hidden behind a curtain until the lord of the hall calls it forth, but a mural is exposed to every passer‑by, to the children, the traders, the bandits. It is a declaration that cannot be ignored. The street, like a kingdom, reads the colours that run through its bricks. When a bold mural appears, the city says, “This one owns these stones.” It is a new crest on the cobblestones, a fresh proclamation of who walks these lanes. In that sense, rewriting the street code is like painting a new tapestry: you lay out the pattern, you lay out the story, and the people will learn to follow your lead. So, if you’re ready to rewrite the code, think of your mural as your knight’s shield in the public square. Paint it well, paint it true, and the street will answer as it would to any great banner.