My Skin is Space They want me to change my “skin” in an online class (oppression) I can choose terminally pink blossoms a photogenically weathered barn a sunset over a Balinese (I like to think) beach but there’s nothing here for me except the skin called “space.” Some beliefs teach that we are but an eyelash mite on the body of the universe others say we are whole worlds within ourselves (microcosm, macrocosm), but I know my skin is space.