So. What if this mask, this cloak of clothing is suddenly removed, so that one is left exposed and unprotected? Do fears fall away with the fabric, or do they multiply? Is it lurid curiosity or candid? Do we rise from the table hungry or sated? Does beauty expand to include the whole human palette, or do we shy from the sight of our too generous variety?
Is skin the shame or is it aging, the dread of sagging mortality we fear to face? Is the wall between trust and intimacy leveled, or do complications spiral out of control? What but jealousy or fear would enforce a rule against wearing God’s own beauty?
Notwithstanding the tides of history, tribal customs and diverging roads of interest, never mind the comfort and beauty of clothes - take note: that these walls are individual constructions, each a decision, and maybe the last wall between us that we can do something about.
Imagine legend. Picture a garden and the sin of Eden, after discovery and the covering of skin.
Perhaps it is worth considering that this first wall thrown up between us may be an important wall, that this mask and cloaking of us may be significant even now.