The hands cover the face.
Not to protect themselves, but to avoid being seen.

 

Crying remains a private matter.
We hide, out of restraint, sometimes out of shame.

 

The tightly closed fingers seal the access.
They contain the emotion and prevent the gaze of the other.

 

Modesty, here, is not a refusal, but an attempt to preserve what is overflowing, to keep for oneself what cannot yet be shared.