Michal is deliberating on the viability of beefing up his vast Fiction Corpus with a history of inspirational art; cites fatigue
Posted:
I don't doubt the viability of using English as a worldwide language. I don't regard highly the enfeebling program by which the English language is taught.
Fine-tuning one's command of a language isn't like developing a sharper needle. A language - a spoken tongue - isn't just an instrument that you can learn to wield with greater amounts of precision. A shared language cannot be uncoupled 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.
To make a person recite English is to rob her of its cultural context. An informed teacher has to develop a plan for introducing it; the bravest student ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. The best dictionaries define a language on the basis of a specific corpus, a body of writing of varying scope and consistency. A corpus can include everything from a book about literature to some real fantasy science fiction. I suffered many a sleepless night creating my "remarkable" Fiction Corpus to form a distinct type of dictionary based on the ability of one man to tell a story in many different forms. It is a labor of love and listening.
I have pieced together a million words and I have dissected them, reframing them - not just to teach the English language but to promote the human spirit, and to pressure that soul or spirit 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...
By the end of my first week in Europe in 2011, I had bought a car and out of the blue had met the woman who would join me on a 6,000 mile trek across the European continent, sharing the beat-up car that I had bought and the one small tent from Walmart that I had brought along with me on my flight.
As an artist, from the beginning of my adult career, my work had been devoted to the problem of body acceptance, a goal that I would later learn was shared by a whole community of people called naturists, a humble portion of which I discovered residing in Poland, a country whose cultural conservatism does not lend itself readily to forward thinking. One of those forward-thinking Polish naturists happened to be Margo.
Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.
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 Children
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 children in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word children, 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 children is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Children
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word children.
Video of me pronouncing "children."
Definition of Children
Children are adults who don't realize that they don't yet understand themselves and that with a little introspection they might just mature into productive human beings.
Common use of children in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word children.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word children.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word children.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word children.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Children 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 children.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Children."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word childrenand 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 children, 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 #1602
i need to update my mapquest. instead of taking me to a nightclub it took me to a childrens dance studio.
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.
That night, the children told scary stories to each other. At first, we sat around a fire outside, but it soon got cold. We went to your father's room, which shared a narrow closet with the room next to it. Inside that closet, we told more scary stories in the dark. I told the story of the Lonely Planet.
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.
Apparently, in the year seventeen twenty-nine, William Hogarth eloped with his teacher's daughter, a very romantic action that does not ordinarily bode success, at least not with one's elders, especially in such a small community as the artistic circle of London in the early eighteenth century. Nor does it often prove auspicious for the marriage itself, but, in the case of William Hogarth, his career survived, and the marriage proved itself steady and secure. Even though it did not produce children, William Hogarth was content, if not supremely happy. And the effect of this was neatly explored in the lecture, especially concerning one of his most famous works, Marriage à la Mode, a series of six paintings depicting the fate of a marriage between the son of an impoverished nobleman and the daughter of a rich alderman merchant. Some very shrewd scholarly observations were made, and I was very pleased that Christie had brought me.
I spent the night with Olympia and Fabric. They were very well mannered. Olympia was even kind enough to attend me while I washed her sister, and Fabric gave me very little resistance. She must like bathing. It was very fun to watch her fluttering those tiny arms around.
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.
The Honorable Carmina returned an impatient and useless stare of her own. The sheer white lace of her partlet swooped high around her nape, cupped her head like the sepals of a morning glory, plunged down either side of her chest and did nothing to mask the low-scoop of her sleeveless gray gown, where the gold artichoke pattern of her black gamurra peeked out alongside the embroidered edge of a white chemise as two frightened children would, scared of Carmina's frame, bobbing as it was imperceptibly up and down with her deliberately steady breath like the shoulders of a tigress unsure of its prey, which Ferrari's eyes absorbed as if he had never seen a person breathe and needed, like a child newly expelled from between its mother's legs, shocked to find a world of air, a moment to learn how to jump-start its lungs and live.
It seemed to Gog like a good time to consummate their union. Magog disagreed. "I'm not ready to let you saddle me with children," she said. "There are other things I have to do first."
Gog didn't want to argue.
The next day, they entered a valley. A softly rising ridge seemed to lead all the way to the mountain. "It looks like a day's journey," said Gog.
His consort squinted. She noticed there were no trees along the ridge. They would have to find firewood to take with them. "Good thinking," said Gog. "Go find some."
"The Chinese say the Emperor went to great lengths to please her. He had her entire village re-created with a functioning mosque and a bazaar. Jujube trees were imported. They bore golden fruit. The Uyghur say the concubine didn't care for it. She kept daggers up her sleeves, prepared to strike the emperor at any moment. The Chinese say she eventually fell in love. She bore him children. Whatever the case was, the Uyghur are convinced the Empress Dowager had her eunuchs strangle her to death."
It's hard to say whether Ferrari loved his mother. She died of plague when he was young. Often he would try to remember what she was like by cuddling next to a pillow and pretending it was her. He grew out of that. Like many children who have lost parents, the energy that would have gone into pleasing his mother was devoted to a general resentment of other people, which he hid, and a feeling of entitlement, which manifested itself more obviously.
Harry Connick put on his gloves. He put on his leather cap and his goggles. He watched the children zoom by. Taking one last breath, he gripped the wheel. "Here we go," he whispered. He pressed down lightly on the gas. Shooting off like a toy boat, he reached the first turn and crashed.
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.
ACT II
SETTING:Same.
AT RISE:Same.
KOKOMO: Clean. Clean. Clean. That's all I do around here. I'm supposed to be the cook. I didn't think I'd have to be the maid and the launderer and the nanny, too. Whoever said Polynesians are like children didn't know the English. They say the streets of London are paved with vomit. Nowhere is it worse than there. That's a kingdom full of stupid, dishwasher-buying buffoons. If I didn't know any better, I would say it's an island thing. Upolu is nothing like this. We have peace and quiet. I wish I could be there now: swimming in Fagaloa Bay, climbing Mount Fao, running my feet through white sand, growing breadfruit and pawpaw. If only I weren't alone in those dreams.
MS. JACKSON: (off) Kokomo!
KOKOMO: Yes, Ms. Jackson.
– ACT I, lines 1384-1389
LUKE: What's the difference between the two?
MS. JACKSON: Bounty families are descendant from the original Bounty mutineers, who settled on Pitcairn Island-
FLETCHER: With their Tahitian consorts. I'm sorry. I meant their Tahitian wives. And their Tahitian slaves. I mean, their male Tahitian friends.
MS. JACKSON: The Pitcairner families are descendant-
FLETCHER: From three adventurers - to be more precise, from two ack-willy whalers and a soldier-of-fortune.
LUKE: That's a ridgy-didge pedigree. Too right!
FLETCHER: It gets better. Being a direct descendant of my namesake, Fletcher Christian, the illustrious chief of the mutiny on the Bounty, I am therefore descendant from the ancient rulers of the Isle of Man.
LUKE: A reg'lar Pommy!
FLETCHER: My father's mother was a Quintal. That means half of him is descendant from a drunken scoundrel who set his ship on fire, drove his wife to suicide, and threatened to kill the entire island population. That's not the side of the story we like to tell. We prefer the story of how John Jackson turned to Christianity and taught his children to read and write. Jackson, I'll have you know, was a Christian before he became a Jackson. He changed his name the moment the British rediscovered the island. My mother admires his cowardice so much, she did the same thing.
– ACT I, lines 93-101
ALICE: 'If you shoot want a yun wife rater?'
FLETCHER: 'I am not Ned Young. I'm not going to shoot anybody. I'm not going to chop anybody's head off with an axe. I'm not going to abandon you for anyone. I'm going to love you for the rest of my life. So help me God, I will. You don't have to run away anymore. You don't have to be afraid that someday you're going to want to hurt me. I will never give you cause.'
ALICE: 'You ton't know tis.'
FLETCHER: 'I do know it. I may be young, but I'm not stupid. I know what I'm doing. I'm following my heart. Even if a thousand men-of-war were to show up this very afternoon with a thousand brides for me to choose from, I wouldn't leave you: not for all the Englishwomen in the world. Who took care of the sprawlers with me? Who threw me Johnny Mills to save young Polly's life? You did. Do you remember that day when the wave nearly swept those infants away? Who saved their lives? We did. Tera-ura: "Sacred Dance." Mata Ohu. It's time we had children of our own. It's time for you to have a proper family. What say you? Will you marry me?'
– ACT II, lines 214-217
ALICE: I thought I was your wife.
FLETCHER: As long as I'm playing Thursday October.
ALICE: I have a son.
FLETCHER: That's Quintal's boy. We end up having seven children of our own. You were thirty at the time. I was fifteen.
ALICE: I see. This is how you imagine the two of them getting together. Did you just write this?
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Before Putin left I asked him if a plague had wiped out the rest of the village. He went into a rant about how the other villagers were idiots. The women who had been with me on the minibus had accused me of trying to seduce them or to poison them with chocolates. They were convinced I was here to do the same thing to the kids. They told the parents to keep their children at home until the headman could figure out what to do. I was taken aback. I never thought a box of chocolates could turn somebody into a devil. I knew it wasn't the chocolates. It made me wonder though what would have been their excuse if not that.
A small but considerable uproar followed reports of the accident. Some people unfairly blamed the drivers. Most blamed the postal service and the other guys for not adequately training their men. A handful blamed the professor. Everybody tried to blame the town. For the first time in a while it seemed like the town actually hadn't done anything wrong. No private person or business was willing to pay for sidewalks, with the one exception being the post office. Something Postmaster Steve pointed out rather tactlessly one day in the local paper.
Sarah shrugged. She said, "You can't stop a girl from hoping I guess." I realized Parker and I weren't so different after all. I thought of Jeff's confession in the stable. I wondered what peoples impressions were of me. They probably thought me cold. Frigid. I can forgive them.
Jeff suddenly stopped grooming. He came close and said, "I hear you're a virgin. Is that right?" I was taken completely by surprise. It took me a moment to nod yes. "I've had sex once in my life," said Jeff. "I regret having done it. I want you to know. In case you have the wrong impression." He went back to grooming. He left after a while. I sat listening to tree crickets. One pitched high. The other pitched low. As if they were discussing the disturbing growth of cicadas in the neighborhood and whether they should just move out. By dark the cicadas were everywhere. The constant buzz left me adrift. Jeff's words like a raft bubbling up and down in my head. To think he and I could be anything alike.
"Which one?" he asked. The question made me blush. "If you mean Sarah. She's young to be a wife. There's no harm in testing her. She needs to know if she can hack it or not. As for Tiffany, she's the one flirting with me. I don't mind. She's old enough to be my mother. I enjoy that."
I bit my tongue. I wanted to say something snarky like, "You're doing them a favor?"
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 children 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 "children." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Help keep the "Children" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing art from Poland...is he meshugge?
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.
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