The Eclipse of touch

A gloved hand across skin is its own eclipse. Light bends toward it, silence grows heavy, and what is hidden becomes more potent than what is revealed. The room feels the charge: fingers trace, a wrist tilts, and suddenly everything else is dimmed. The glove does not mute touch, it transforms it. Every gesture becomes sharper, more deliberate, more sovereign.

But no eclipse happens by accident. What looks effortless in the moment is the product of discipline: leather chosen, softened, charmed into obedience by other hands. The artisans who cut and stitched gave the glove its precision, so the gesture could carry weight. The eclipse you witness now, the touch that overshadows everything, was prepared long before, in the quiet of the workshop.