At the first threshold, the world is drained of certainty. The farmhouse is all dust, wood, and weather; then a door opens and the ordinary gives way to a road that seems to have been waiting under the floorboards. Color is not decoration here. It is the plot, arriving on cue.
Wonder needs a wayfinding system
That turn still feels radical because it asks the eye to make a decision. Follow the gold path and every promise becomes visible: ruby at the feet, green on the horizon, a warm sky above. The palette does not whisper about wonder; it stages wonder, then sends us walking.