Michal is poring over the prospect of compounding his sizable Fiction Corpus with more fiction books; cites fatigue
Posted:
I regard highly the practicality of honoring English as a worldwide language. I do doubt the pedantic process by which English is taught.
Honing one's familiarity with a language isn't like launching a sharper needle. A language isn't merely a tool that you can teach yourself to exploit with a greater amount of precision. A spoken tongue can't be isolated from the prevailing culture of a group of people of which it is a description. A language isn't recited; it happens - and keeps happening as long as a circle of people keeps using it.
Teaching a student to recite English is to cheat him out of its cultural context. A proper teacher has to develop a strategy for introducing it; the bravest student goes out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. The best dictionaries define a language on the basis of a specific corpus, a set of written works of various scope and consistency. This corpus could include everything from a book about literature to some real speculative fiction. I suffered many a sleepless night forging my "sizeable" Fiction Corpus to form a different genre of dictionary based on the ability of one man to tell a story in myriad forms. It is a labor of love and listening.
I have crafted a million words and I have broken them down, reformulating them - not merely to teach American vocabulary but to defend the human spirit, and to coax that spirit or soul not just to recite but to happen.
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
Lots of people go on road trips. Not everybody criss-crosses Europe in 46 days. Especially not with a complete stranger.
I knew naturism was popular in many parts of Europe and as an artist who had worked on body acceptance for his entire career I was keen on documenting some small part of it. Lo and behold, I found a very important part of it hiding in Poland. Her name was Margo.
Being from America, all I had to do in Europe was turn on the radio to hear an American song. All I had to do was walk into a movie theater to see an American movie. To be understood all I had to do was speak English. Being from Poland, she couldn't stand listening to the radio for all the political nonsense being bandied about. She didn't like watching American movies because she claimed they all ended the same way. She didn't want to speak English with me because she not only wanted to say things correctly but she wanted to say them her way and nobody had ever succeeded in teaching her how. I desperately wanted to understand. She wanted to be understood.
Margo and I spent over 40 days on the road. We started out as basically strangers, but in those 40 days we started listening to each other. We started teaching ourselves how to cooperate. Our journey across Europe may have ended, but our journey towards each other continues. No amount of fear, anger, sadness, disgust or anticipation can stop hope. Slowly but surely, we're learning how to beat the devils that abuse us.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Understanding the word Eyes
A word can represent many things. First and foremost it represents a type of gesture. A specific way of speaking. A specific way of inscribing a mark. A specific way of moving your hand. To know one of these kinds of gestures is to know how to pronounce the word eyes in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word eyes, you will need to know what other people are made to think when you make the gesture. You will never have complete awareness of or control over the associations or identities that are invoked by a set of words, but you can know what was and what is a single word's jointly accepted definition, at least for a given place, thereby tracing a direction which will help you to understand what kinds of associations and identities are driving its use.
By using the word yourself, you enter into a long-standing albeit oftentimes unconscious debate over its definition, forever entangling yourself into the history of its use. The way you use it, and which other words you use it with carries weight.
The more you know about where the word eyes is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Eyes
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word eyes.
Video of me pronouncing "eyes."
Definition of Eyes
Eyes fuel the imagination. They are also a very complex artifact that requires protection. They are sometimes fetishized to mean the thing that you're not allowed to see behind dark sunglasses because they might entrance you, regardless of whether they're actually capable of doing that.
Common use of eyes in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word eyes.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word eyes.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Eyes in Michal's Fiction Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
I have yet to make a morphological analysis of the word eyes.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Eyes."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word eyesand any of its morphological derivations appears in the Fiction Corpus, along with a breakdown of frequency by title, the respective rank of each word in the complete list of all words in the Corpus, as calculated both densely and competitively, as well as the percent increase in frequency of the word over the frequency of the next lowest rank in the complete list.
Percent Increase over next rank
RANK
WORD
Frequency
TOTAL # of occurences
MCDONALDS
JESUS
SEX
TSIGA
JACKSON
DINGBATS
dense
competitive
modern/sloppy
biblical/terse
poetic/high-brow
hard/fast
talky
mixed salad
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
I have yet to publish the table of frequency for the word eyes, but I will get to it shortly. -Michal
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #542
i keep seeing flashes of ikea. around the eyes or a chin. every woman i see seems to have a part of her. thats all i get now. pieces.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
Now, in those days, the faithful people of Treblinka did not shake hands as a sign of peace but nodded their heads in a systematic but nevertheless variegated way. In fact, as a young man, Jesus had never been really sure whether there were a correct way, or, at least, a more favored one. He was always too busy nodding. Some people began by nodding to the front (to no one in particular), and then, nodding once every few degrees (again, to no one in particular), they would turn their heads to the right (or to the left, if they happened to be against the right wall) until, reaching the limit of cervical torsion in one direction, they would turn their heads all the way to the other end (unless they were against the wall) and begin once again turning and nodding in even increments (once again, to no one in particular) until, once again, they were facing front. Some nodded first to their right neighbor (regardless whether that neighbor were nodding first to the front) and then to their left neighbor (also regardless wither that neighbor were nodding) and then once or twice over the left shoulder - if anyone's eyes were caught, then to that person - otherwise, to no one in particular. That was Jesus's favorite method. It saved on nodding.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. After a while, she yelled, "Yes!" Dropping her head and holding her huge forehead in her hand again, she looked up and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I would like to dance." She got up. I held out my hand, but she didn't take it. Squeezing herself out from inside the booth, she brushed past me and skipped more than ran toward the dance floor. Before she got there, she stopped and turned around.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
End this agitato. End this agitato. End this crescendo, diminuendo, crescendo poco a poco reaching the heights of human ecstasy, flittering our fingers, curling our toes and floating, floating down, too heavy to fly, shattering, and falling like rain in a million pieces down, to the ground, away from God's majesty - dashing madly across the keys my fingers flying ran the crescendo up in haste: no love to feel, no love to seize, my heart dying of disease - no time to waste - headlong falling into a pool and treading water, trying to swim, trying to leave but something pulling, pulling down, I forced my way up and out, climbing but slipping, falling, and then regaining myself and then stopping now...ritenuto...oh ritenuto: give me God's mercy: give me God's mercy: give me a moment now, end me my heartache now, end me my heartache now, please give, now: sotto voce, ben legato, molto più lento: o lullaby, sweet lullaby, bring me to sleep, sweet lullaby. Sing away my fears, put aside my tears - please, the Lord and I need to rest a while. O lullaby, bring a dream to me, let me see a dream, and regarding dreams, let me guard my dreams, let me live my dreams, let me, lullaby, dream - oh, what a beautiful melody fills my heart and wraps around me. How in love I was that night! How furious were my body, mind and soul arguing with each other. But, for a moment, playing this trio, life was quiet. My heart was tranquilized. My thoughts were suspended, my soul bathing in joy. And my eyes were drinking it. They came a long way to find themselves a watering hole, and finally, the time was right - no enemies nearby, no traps to catch me - everything was peaceful. And that was no surprise: for who should be standing guard? Indiana was! and may she continue in my dreams: for she was standing in front of me like a figure from the grandest of my dreams, like she were surrounded by fog, and only her own body could escape its grayness. She stood there in the doorway like grace itself, the light from the kitchen granting her man's electrical mandorla.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 3, The Third Day, Part 2, Prayer & The Reformation, Section 13, The Role of Music, Paragraph 6, Clauses 6-19
But, preparing too much, I hoped in vain: the fruits of previous efforts were rotting, but, by the power of love's plain feeling, my efforts were miraculously buoyed: my fingering was insane! my accents lingering, my tempo almost perfect. And, leaving my fingers to do their work, my mind was free to wander, my eyes were free to wonder, and my loins were free to want her: and, looking over my sheets, I saw her back in the kitchen. I saw her front in the kitchen - I saw her legs and her sides and her invisible wings in the kitchen.
Longchamp Allée, however, was so long that Luka quite forgot what he was looking for, and, reaching the northeast corner of the wood, he had to ask himself where he was going. Then he cursed himself - obviously - and, turning onto Route Sablons, he promised to keep his eyes open.
But Nike is only frightened once - nevertheless, he had no idea why these people were in his room. He opened his eyes carefully. As long as he wasn't dead already, there was a good chance he could survive. Few people kill unnecessarily, even criminals - but it doesn't take much to provoke them. These people were definitely criminals. They were the ugliest people Nike had ever seen. "What do you want?" he said.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 1, Our Constitution & Constitutional Reform, Section 2, Dealing with Creditors, Paragraph 2
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
It wasn't a man. It was a woman with lizard's eyes. Her course, brown hair was cut short. Her lower lip was thick. Gog took another step. The woman jerked her small, round chin. She braced herself.
Gog gave the Hellenes thanks. He invited them to a feast. In his tent, they dined and drank with him. They marveled at his consort. Through her headdress of gold coins and chains, they caught sight of her eyes. They had never seen such a woman. "Those eyes," they whispered amongst themselves. "They are like the seeds of the amygdala [i.e. the almond tree]. Truly, she is a queen of unparalleled beauty."
Clark winced. "I don't think we can make it," he cried. It was too late to stop Shephard. He neared the tunnel to the desert. He ducked. His head squeezed through. Clark kicked his heels. He closed his eyes. He ducked. He heard hooves clattering against paving stone. On the other side, he felt the warmth of the sun. He was alive. He opened his eyes. A gigantic ridge of sand stretched in front of him. Shephard was climbing it.
She asked, "How will you carry your swords now? Your buckle is broken. My horse lies dying. If you try to leave me behind, I will stab you in the back." Gog sympathized with her. She seemed like a decent woman. He asked her what she wanted.
She lowered her head. She aimed her eyes at Gog as if they were spears. In a deep voice, she said, "Make me your sword-bearer."
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
GREY GOOSE: Open your eyes. Do you know what I was trying to do here? Look at this place. It's a god-damn mess.
FLETCHER: You were only trying to help.
GREY GOOSE: I wasn't. I was trying to please Kokomo. That dishwasher wasn't a gift for your mother. It was a gift for her.
FLETCHER: Don't expect me to believe Mother's story that all this time you've been chasing after the cook.
GREY GOOSE: Things changed the moment your mother convinced herself that she's falling in love with that Kiwi.
FLETCHER: Lesbian is not going to stay here. I doubt Mother would just pack up and leave. All we have to do is be patient. We have to ride this thing out without losing our heads and without letting anybody catch the two of them going at it - whatever the hell it is they do together, which can't be much. They probably just kiss and talk about running off to get married in Spain. Regardless, we can't afford to take any chances - not with our reputation as low as it is.
GREY GOOSE: I argued with her today - not because it was necessary - because I desired it. I shouted what I should never murmur without her permission.
FLETCHER: What are you talking about?
GREY GOOSE: I called her a whore - not because I was roping Luke -because she turned me on. It made me angry to feel so helpless. I argued with Kokomo so that I could be close to her: so that I could breathe in her scent. That's all this stupid dishwasher business was about. Did I say it was a gift? It wasn't a gift. It was a ploy.
FLETCHER: Stay away from her.
– ACT I, lines 1237-1246
MS. JACKSON: You must be falling asleep after such a long day.
FLETCHER: Mother.
LESBIAN: I can barely keep my eyes open.
FLETCHER: Excuse me.
MS. JACKSON: That's a problem.
LESBIAN: Why?
MS. JACKSON: The laundry's not done. I'll have to take fresh sheets from the sofa bed.
LESBIAN: Don't bother. I'll sleep in here for now.
MS. JACKSON: Are you sure?
LESBIAN: It'll only be for a nap.
– ACT II, lines 262-271
(KOKOMO exits.)
GREY GOOSE: Excellent! The day of reckoning has come at last. For too long now, the crimes of my distant past have tarried and o'er me their shadows cast. Restitution's been made, Heavenly King! Grant that my wife be open to forgive a reformed man, who only wants to live in his own home - not like a fugitive on an island full of gossiping cows, who whisper lies, make innuendo, roll their eyes and giggle nonsense, and yet dole out their judgments as if they were a whole judge and jury. Let them bear witness that no woman will run me out of my own home - even if I have to burn it down!
– ACT I, lines 251-251
GREY GOOSE: Speak up.
MS. JACKSON: There is no lighter sound than the ring of truth. It springs from the tongue like a frightened toad, aiming its horny skin into the eyes of those who would seek to catch it. Were you to devour a million truths you would never find them all and you'd still be as hungry as when you first started - so beware, husband, lest you choke.
GREY GOOSE: On a frog in my throat? Have you gone mad? There are no frogs on this island, woman - in case you hadn't noticed your entire life. I suppose that friend of yours from New Zealand taught you to speak with such poetry.
MS. JACKSON: New Zealand has a great literary heritage. That's something you couldn't possibly understand.
GREY GOOSE: Am I daft?
MS. JACKSON: You are a bully: a no-good, bleeding, rebel-rousing bully.
GREY GOOSE: Alright.
MS. JACKSON: A fire-starter.
GREY GOOSE: Enough.
MS. JACKSON: Arsonist!
– ACT I, lines 301-310
FLETCHER: Bigger than your husband.
LESBIAN: Or so I'm told. I didn't actually see them. What I saw was smaller: about six or seven feet. They had these big beaks and enormous eyes made from concentric circles: each circle colored differently from the next. They looked like crazed chickens dancing around like that. Of course, with masks so big, the focus turns to a dancer's legs, the swaying of his hips-
MS. JACKSON: And everything in between.
ALICE: Ms. Jackson!
LESBIAN: His arms are busy holding up the mask.
MS. JACKSON: I'm not surprised: making women do the work.
LESBIAN: I wonder if any Polynesians use a big mask. Would your cook know?
MS. JACKSON: Probably not. Where is my cook? Does she know the kitchen still needs cleaning?
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
We need only refer to nineteenth century French literature to confirm this. According to Anatole France, Saint Paphnutius was destroyed by a look. Struck by the sight of Thais on stage, as she played the role of pure-hearted Polyxena, lifting the curtain with her white arm, pride and resignation in her violet eyes, the hermit monk, sent to save the whore from her dissipation, grew so infatuated with her image, learning later she was on her death bed, surrounded by her fellow nuns, he begged her petulantly not to die, rejecting Heaven, as she rose, moments before her final breath, to proclaim a vision of God with such rapture in her eyes, it held for poor Paphnutius the profound emptiness of his own soul. He turned into a vampire. That is the power of a look.
A gunshot echoed through the house. Proctor realized he was still alive. He looked up. As Bob fell to the floor he revealed Elizabeth's quivering body behind him. She was holding the gun Proctor had given her. She dropped it. Proctor ran to her. They embraced. Proctor started smothering her in kisses.
"You said you wanted to talk," said Elizabeth. Proctor stopped kissing her. He looked into her eyes. "I thought it was time we did."
I almost called the police. On my own mother. The look in her eyes as I restrained her. Sight unseen. So full of spite and hate. Towards her own son. If her husband hadn't come to take her upstairs I would've done it. She wasn't backing down.
I knew my sister was in love with one of them. So what? It didn't change anything. It didn't change our fate. We had the future of a population on our heads. You can't walk away from that. We had to fight to the death. Like it or not. Right up on that hill. In the middle of the cemetary. It seemed like the right place to do it. I think it was my brother's idea. Not Gaio. The middle one. Lucio. Like I said we didn't know who was the oldest or who was the youngest. But I always teased Gaio for being the romantic one. It made him the youngest. In my eyes.
This table lists in descending order of frequency a selection of word pairs that appear in the Fiction Corpus and groups them according to the morphological derivation of the word eyes that appears in the pair.
Type
WORD
Frequency
TOTAL # of occurences
MCDONALDS
JESUS
SEX
TSIGA
JACKSON
DINGBATS
modern/sloppy
biblical/terse
poetic/high-brow
hard/fast
talky
mixed salad
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
I have yet to perform a collocation analysis of "eyes." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
Life is a spinning sphere with Joy at one pole and Sadness at the other. Each continuously feeding its pair. Joy flanked by the emotions of Trust on one side, Surprise on the other. Trust leading to Anticipation; anticipation leading to Fear. Surprise leading to Disgust; disgust leading to Anger. Anger and Fear fueling our Sadness. Sadness giving way, in time, to Joy; through Hope, an orientation towards Love. Love, an openness towards Joy, Trust and Surprise; the sum of emotion; emotion amplified by others. Multiplied and divided, in equal parts. Such that to those from whom it has been subtracted, we must add. Until we are whole.
Your support keeps the "Eyes" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing art...is he cracked?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.