Skinless is a revelation. Meet Charmay.
A wind tapped lightly at heavily drawn aluminum shades, wishing to breathe newness amidst the howling chaos. Me and Sam had one thing to cling to on this banal rock, and that was each other. Well, each other and whatever else we could get our hands on. Bare springs, mattress. Me. Cool air, tawny skin. Long dancer’s limbs, lanky legs. Naked on my back. Gold chestnut waves; my hollow eyes blindly, wide open staring into hue, blue.
Skinless is also a revolution—of survival.
People like me, with the trauma stuff from kidhood, don’t know how to stay in our own bodies. They call it ‘disassociate.’ We rather be in someone else’s body and feel their stuff, cause it’s less traumatic than our own. If you’d told me that back then I would have laughed at you and called you a freakin doctor softee who thinks it makes it better by knowing the reason why. I would have been half right––Knowing why you do what you do doesn’t make it go away or make it feel better. But it does help you start to love and understand yourself better, so at least you have some chance at healing the part of you that wants to kill yourself, and start loving yourself and maybe start wanting to live and feel and grow and find your dreams in the lightness of day. I don’t have all the answers. But I can say, I’m not dead yet, and I know that.
And from Moor, so much more. Quirky, singular, yet strangely familiar characters. A structure that features “past, present, future, all happening at once, inside us.” Language so original it vanishes words as we know them, the use of slang and vulgarity perfected with words and phrasing such as Fuck-o sap suck it, mankym, evening-wheres, or jamorous.
In a word, Skinless is a stunner.
–Stacey Donovan, writer, editor, ghostwriter, author of Dive and The Red Shoe Diaries book series
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