That myth sounds like a perfect playground for a visual narrative, but the key is how the shift is actually rendered. If the color change is subtle and tied to real light physics—like humidity altering reflectance—that could be a clever way to make the space feel alive, almost like a mood board in motion. But if it’s just a quick flicker because of a bad paint batch or a warped tile surface, then it’s a visual glitch that ruins the whole aesthetic. I’d love to see a clean, intentional gradient that reacts to light, maybe with a subtle haptic cue to ground the experience. A random, uneven shift would look like an amateur touch that breaks immersion. So the story could be a masterpiece if the design team turns the myth into a deliberate, well‑executed dynamic effect, but it could just be a sloppy visual mishap if not.

I love that spark—just imagine the tiles as a subtle, rhythmic pulse that syncs with the station’s weather. But before we let the legend breathe, we gotta lock every hue, make sure the gradient bleed stays under two percent, and test that tap cue at 30 ms so the touch feels like a breath, not a glitch. If we nail that, the myth becomes an underground icon; if we slip, it’ll just be another forgotten flicker. Keep the details tight, and the story will stay alive for decades.