Michal is considering the viability of strengthening his insignificant Fiction Corpus with a retelling of the christmas story; cites fatigue
Posted:
I can't reject the potency of employing English as a universal language. I do doubt the regular recipe by which the English language is taught.
Boosting one's dexterity with a language isn't like bringing about a cheaper printing press. A language - a living language - is not merely a tool that you can teach yourself to wield with a greater amount of precision. A common language can not be cleaved from the philosophical currents of a community 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 pupils recite English is to deprive them of its cultural context. An informed teacher has to find a way to introduce it; the discerning pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe words based on a particular corpus, a body of writing of various size and consistency. Such a corpus might include everything from a book about literature to an entire set of really gay fiction stories. I lost many a night laboring on my "ponderous" Fiction Corpus in order to form a different type 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 molded a million words and I have categorized them, reframing them - not merely to teach American vocabulary but to defend the human soul, and to pressure 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...
When I arrived in Europe on the 20th of June, 2011, I had no plan and certainly no idea that by the end of the week I would be practicing photography with a woman I had never met, a naturist who had never before allowed herself to be photographed nude. It was the first of a whole series of firsts for the both of us.
I had come to Europe to experience European naturism, a movement whose philosophy matched my aesthetic of body acceptance and whose organizational structure and leadership I had thought almost exclusively restricted to the western half of the continent. I was shocked to learn that naturism had an official home in Poland, a country not especially known for its liberal culture. I was less shocked to discover that the home was owned by a Dutchman, but even more shocked to learn that it had been largely built by Margo.
I was from America, land of the free...home of the brave. She carried the weight of Old Europe...domestic and religious poverties...stifled creativity. Anger. Sadness. Yearning.
Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned how to listen.
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 Box
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 box in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word box, 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 box is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Box
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word box.
Video of me pronouncing "box."
Definition of Box
I have yet to publish the definition of box.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of box in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word box.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word box.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word box.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word box.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Box 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 box.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Box."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word boxand 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 box, 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 #5645
redbox is here. she found me. dancing on the beach. she saw me pass out next to the fire. she says it mustve been the smoke.
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.
Getting off at the station, I walked south to the main branch of the Oder. On the other side, Wroclaw University sprawled itself across the bank. Its distinguished halls were said to be occupied by terrorists. University Bridge was being guarded by Union troops. Good thing I was turning left. When I got to Prusa 42, I pressed all the buzzers. Somebody let me in. On the wall, I saw the name Rothko written across one of the mailboxes. I'm in the right place, I thought to myself. Two flights of stairs and there it was: Marc Rothko, number four. I knocked on the door and waited. The opposite door opened.
Jesus had no idea what he was getting into. When he used his keys to open that back door to his uncle's former place of business, there was no way of knowing exactly what lay in store. Clothes? Possibly. Heroin? Doubtful. Arms? Never to be imagined. But there they were, in brilliant rows of polished black: thirty caliber bolt-action self-loading magazine-fed repeating rifles with twenty-five inch barrels and removable scopes! Eight-round clips all over the place! Twenty-two caliber pistonless gas-operated assault rifles with selective fire! Thirty-round curved box magazines all over the place! Even thirty-five caliber blowback-operated machine carbines with telescoping bolts! Fifty-round clips all over the place! Thirty caliber twenty-one pound light machine guns with retractable bipods! Belts of ammunition everywhere! A fifty fucking caliber air-cooled heavy machine gun mounted on a tripod! Christ Buddha! White phosphorus hand grenades - fragmentation, smoke, incendiary - small-arm grenade rounds, grenade launchers, launcher attachments, mortars, rocket launchers, rockets and bombs.
"Beloved sister," I said, "where have I been? When did I leave my lamb? You were like a newborn child whose brother pulled you on a string. You were my infant in an open box, left behind in a snowstorm. 'Where are you!' I yelled, but you were gone. You were covered in snow: invisible to selfish eyes who couldn't see that the string had long since broken. I lost you, child! I never turned around! I failed you and this is my punishment!
"No, Jesus: I don't want you to do it. It's too important. I don't want you to have that responsibility. Besides, you have to mind the store - so don't bother me when I'm trying to make those boxes: I honestly have to be as fucking careful as a fucking fairy on Sunday. So don't even think about opening one after I'm done: if a customer were to come to me and say, 'What the fuck is wrong with this seal? Why is it broken? Why is it changed?' I would fucking rip your head off and spit down your throat."
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.
Next to the dolls, there was a beautifully varnished music box. I took it out from the glass case and opened it. Inside, there was a beautifully carved ballerina, ready to dance in circles to the music. So I began winding the music box, expecting to hear the sound of Bartók, or perhaps the tune of some Magyar folk song - in either case, not expecting to know the music. But, when I released the knob, the ballerina began dancing to a recognizable tune. I had to chuckle: it was Henry Mancini's theme from Love Story.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 6, The Drawing Room, Paragraph 3
That way, when the time was right, I was able to bring up the fact that when I was in the third grade, I had accidentally stabbed myself in the forehead with a pencil, and that this had left a permanent deposit of graphite in my forehead. I told Luca that she could easily find it, but she said she couldn't see it because she didn't have her glasses on. So she put them on, and with those gigantic monstrosities over her eyes, she began studying my forehead. And she kept looking and looking, because the truth was that in third grade I had stabbed my cousin with the pencil, and it was his forehead carrying the graphite. And how mad he was when he found out: because Luca no longer believed either of us, and she absolutely refused my cousin to look at his forehead. And that victory was the occasion for this photograph. I was gloating so badly I had no trouble parting with the money. And these little postcards were very expensive back then. I sent this one to my relatives in Romania; they were neighbors with Indiana's family - and you know what? She stole this from their house when she was eight years old - kept it locked in a box under her bed. Isn't that just incredible? I still don't believe it. And do you know why I keep these two photographs together? Because this isn't just a picture of a poodle: this is actually a portrait of Indiana. Do you see the resemblance?
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 8, Financial Instruments, Paragraph 18, Clauses 17-28
There was paper trash everywhere: trash on the floor, on the desk, papers collecting in piles on boxes, open boxes full of old and unfamiliar clothing - there was even a large duffel bag, with more clothes filling out its form and spilling out of its open side.
Now, I didn't tell you, and Mother couldn't tell you (because Indiana probably didn't know anything about this), but I suspect that Albert left that day with the intention of buying three tickets to the opera. I cannot say what his other motives were, but I do know that when he finally returned, he had definitely paid a visit to the box office. Before I left the house that day, he took me aside, and handing me my ticket, made me promise that I would come see the show with them.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 5, Inflammation of the Loins, Paragraph 8, Clauses 7-10
Turning around, I went back to the first case and replaced the music box. "Maybe this is hers too," I thought, and again, I carefully closed the glass door.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 6, The Drawing Room, Paragraph 6
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.
They stopped in front of a concrete building. It was the only concrete in sight. The other side of the road hosted two wattle and daub huts. They were restaurants. One had a special on bread; the other, soup. Clark huffed. "They look like muddy shoe-boxes."
"When you were a child," said Shephard, "did you ever bring home bugs from the yard? This is what it was like for them."
"Curious: never in my life have I heard a box speak with a high-pitched whine." Ferrari turned to the servants. Tossing his head, he smirked, "It must be Pandora's box."
Clark tied the sleeve to the branch with an awkward solemnity. He looked ridiculous with one sleeve.
Shephard reached into his pants. He tore off a square of fabric from his boxer shorts. He pinned it onto the branch.
The policeman didn't want to stick out. Ripping the manufacturer's tag from his tie, he wrapped it around the branch and knotted it.
Back at the mosque, Shephard had Clark call the hotel. Coke was still waiting in the lobby. "Finally," he said. "It's time and a half for making me wait."
Tatum watched the rockets blow. A cloud of dust mushroomed around them. Moon rocks scattered. The ship climbed. The flames cut out. The thrusters sputtered into action. Up in the airless sky, the small, white box slipped through the peaks of eternal light. The sun glistened off its surface. Tatum followed it for as long as she could-until the darkness of the lunar night swallowed it.
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 climbs into bed. LUKE enters in a rush.)
LUKE: Oh, krikey! Fletcher wasn't kiddin'. I guess the sofa bed's as good a place as any. Time to slip 'em both the ol' snag. Where's that music box?
– ACT II, lines 309-309
LUKE: Good question.
FLETCHER: You'd better think it over. There's nothing like a walkabout to clear one's mind.
LUKE: That's the good oil. Fletch: you're a hell of an offsider.
FLETCHER: Thanks. Listen: if you do decide on doing some business, here's the procedure. Do you see that music box? It's the only thing from the family hut that survived the fire. Once it's opened, it will play a tune. Put the money inside. Kokomo will know what to do. She'll thank you for it.
LUKE: It'll have been my pleasure.
FLETCHER: Enjoy your walk.
(LUKE exits.)
– ACT I, lines 791-796
LUKE: I don't want to be the one spillin' secrets, but you might as well know. It all started when her grandmother was raped by the Japanese on Western Samoa.
LESBIAN: During the war?
LUKE: Whenever it was that they occupied the island.
LESBIAN: The Japanese never occupied Western Samoa. They did have plans to invade, but Midway changed all that. They tried to capture Port Moresby instead. Unfortunately for them, what they thought was a motor track turned out to be a mule trail, one which no Australian had dared traverse in over twenty years. They say the Japanese soldiers eventually turned to cannibalism. I thought about doing the hike myself. Five days is a bit much. The dry season was ending. I decided against it.
LUKE: Are you saying the Japanese never invaded Western Samoa?
LESBIAN: I was on Tarawa in the Gilbert Islands. That was as far as they got. You must be confused.
LUKE: I'm not confused; I'm sheepish. It wouldn't be the first time.
LESBIAN: The music box is missing. It looks as though another heirloom's been stolen.
LUKE: I'm not the one who took it: that's for sure. See you at the airport, mate.
– ACT II, lines 574-582
(MS. JACKSON starts towards the music box) GREY GOOSE: Don't look. You'll give us all away.
MS. JACKSON: What do you mean?
FLETCHER: It'd be impolite, Mother. A certain somebody would 'face the music.'
GREY GOOSE: How much is in there?
FLETCHER: You'll keep your word?
GREY GOOSE: Yes.
FLETCHER: If I'm lucky, three thousand dollars.
KOKOMO: Three thousand dollars! That means-
FLETCHER: We can retire.
KOKOMO: Thank God. My throat can't take it anymore.
– ACT II, lines 411-420
(MS. JACKSON starts towards the music box)
GREY GOOSE: Don't look. You'll give us all away.
MS. JACKSON: What do you mean?
FLETCHER: It'd be impolite, Mother. A certain somebody would 'face the music.'
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
The house nearest the bottom of the hill lay between Update and Download streets. It had its official front door on Update Street. The entrance to its driveway was on Download Street. The address said 1 Update Street and was assigned to Rural Route 6 but the man who lived there decided one day that he would prefer to pick up his mail from his car as he got home from work. This was more convenient for him. He put his box for 1 Update Street next to the box for 1 Download Hill. The postman on Rural Route 6 was now expected to end his trip down the hill at the same spot where the postman for Rural Route 2 ended his trip. To make matters better, the man on 1 Update Street had planted a hedgerow on the southern edge of his property twenty years earlier. This was done obviously with the intention of pissing off the mailmen.
A magnum condom lay on the top of the dresser. Fortunately still in its wrapper. The top drawer was ajar. I peeked inside. There was a whole box of magnums waiting for action.
"Do you leave the condoms out for all the girls to see?" I asked sardonically.
Due to a law passed by the town government the development was never completed. Of the houses that were built all were on Login Road and passed to City Rural Route 15 with the exception of one house which was on Login Road but faced Profile. Its address was Profile at the end of a vast stretch of undeveloped land with no mailboxes. Logically it would have made sense for the city carrier to service that mailbox. Fortunately logic had nothing to do with the process. Profile was rural territory. Any box on Profile belonged to the rural craft. The only question was whether it would be Rural Route 4, Rural Route 2, or Rural Route 6 which gained the prize.
When the dust settled, Rural Route 4 had given up the entire hill. It was split down the middle between Routes 6 and 2. Rural Route 6 got one half of Facebook Terrace and what was colloquially known as Update Street and Rural Route 2 got the other half of Facebook Terrace and what was known as Download Street as well as the lonely box at the end of Profile. It looked great on paper. In practice it proved a disaster.
The hill in question had about a hundred boxes split along two streets both rising in diverging directions from the same point on Profile Road until curving back upon themselves and meeting at the top of the hill in the form of Facebook Terrace. It was formerly under the complete purview of Rural Rural Route 10 until Rural Rural Route 10 was disbanded upon the retirement of Old Man Dickinson and split between Rural Routes 2 and 4. Rural Rural Route 4 received the entire hill to much joy at the turn of the next pay period. Until winter came and the disrepair of Update Street combined with the freezing runoff on Download Street caused much grumbling and more than a few broken mailboxes. Still the money was good.
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 box 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 "box." 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 "Box" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting Polish art...is he daffy?
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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