I remember my uncle's hands because he worked on cars, so they were always rough. He used to tell me: "You gotta shake someone's hand like you want them to remember you." And he did — every single time. His hands carried the weight of everything he loved, and you could feel it whenever he touched something. He taught me that the soul of a maker lingers in the things they touch. That is the principle I've tried to hold onto with every bag I've made. With Domus, it lives in the density of the leather, the weight of the bag, and the reassuring firmness of the top handle. My hope was that you'd understand its passion through touch alone. You may never meet the hands that made it, but when you hold it, you'll feel what they left behind. It is, in its own way, the kind of handshake my uncle would have been proud of — one you won't forget.