Michal is studying the concept of complementing his unheroic Fiction Corpus with some scary ghost stories; cites fatigue
Posted:
I regard highly the idea of utilizing English as a common language for the world. I don't think highly of the altogether average modus operandi by which the English language is taught.
Reenforcing a person's know-how with a language isn't like producing a rounder wheel. A language - a living tongue - isn't merely an instrument that you can teach yourself to wield with greater amounts of precision. A shared tongue cannot be detached from the professed knowledge 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 man to recite English is to rob him of its cultural context. A worthy instructor has to have a strategy for introducing it; the perceptive student ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. The best dictionaries describe a language based on a specific corpus, a body of written language of various size and consistency. This corpus could include anything from a book about literature to some real science fiction romance. I suffered many a sleepless night creating my "titanic" Fiction Corpus in order to form a distinct sort 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 sculpted a million words and I have sorted them, reshaping them - not merely to teach the English tongue but to describe the human spirit, and to propel 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 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 considered myself young and able, and being American I often convinced myself I was more than able. She didn't feel quite so young. Having grown up in Poland, what was and is still considered by many to be a poor country, she had the added burden of not only being disadvantaged but having it held against her. The difference became palpable when I realized I couldn't even properly translate into Polish the very American word, "opportunity." A chance? Sure. An occasion? Why not? An opportunity? Not in the book.
There were times during our trip when I thought there might not be a happy ending. There were times when disaster was close and I wondered whether I hadn't made a mistake. I wondered whether fear, anger or sadness might triumph and one of us would have to finished the journey alone. Though I dangled from the cliffs of Normady I was saved. Though the lights went out I rode on. Though I ran the tires down to the wire I was okay. We drove home in one piece. We came home happy. We had started the process of learning how to listen and the sound of it was beautiful. We could be sure that we were ready to conquer the devils that abuse us no matter how long it would take.
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 Button
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 button in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word button, 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 button is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Button
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word button.
Video of me pronouncing "button."
Definition of Button
I have yet to publish the definition of button.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of button in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word button.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word button.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word button.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word button.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Button 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 button.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Button."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word buttonand 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 button, 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 #2634
pandora says she saw two people leave the motel room last night. it was dark. and she thinks she pressed the wrong button on the night vision.
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.
"Fucking bullshit!" said the Krupnik. "Motherfucking bullshit!" He stared at Jesus. "What do you know about setting charges?"
"I know how to pull a pin," said Jesus. "Add string to the doors and windows and you've got yourself a brand-new businessman."
"Fucking bullshit!" said the Krupnik. "Motherfucking bullshit! Alright! We're gonna work something out. Fucking shit!" He removed his radiotelephone from its holster. He pressed one of its buttons. He stood and waited for a moment. "Yeah, listen: we've got a problem," he said. "I need to meet Nigel right now." He started shaking his head at Jesus. "I don't care if it's fucking ahead of schedule; I need to see him right fucking now." He rubbed his eyeballs. "Alright, then: take care of it." He hung up. "Get in the car," he said.
"Is that necessary?"
"Get in the fucking car, please! Yes," he said, "it's very necessary. You have no fucking idea what you're fucking with, you little motherfucking chickenshit turdface! Christ Buddha! Please: get in the car - I'm begging you."
"Alright," said Jesus. "But only because you treat me like a businessman - I like that."
"I was told," continued Sapper, "that after we passed Wroclaw, we would exchange places - but no: he was too proud. And you know what? The windshield vents must have been broken or something: I had to wipe the vapor off with a towel every five minutes. When the towel was soaked, I used up all the tissues; then, toilet paper. It was ridiculous. In the morning, I noticed that there was a defrost button; I don't think my grandfather even knows it's there. If I had seen it, I would've turned it on - or at least, I would've tried to - but the night was pitch black! And the windshield was soaked: halfway through the trip, I ran out of paper. My grandfather had to use his hand. He took off his glasses 'cause he couldn't see! Leaning forward, he was squinting out of his one good eye. It was just about the scariest thing I've ever had to live through: tractor-trailers, one after the other, squeezing us, passing us. When they went in the opposite direction, they would blow us so much wind, I thought we would tip over: the whole car would shudder.
"Neither do I," said Jesus. He unbuttoned his shirt. "This tattoo," he said. "The one I showed you: the Christogram. I had it tattooed after I heard His voice. The voice of God, Zoe."
In those days, women wore anything that resembled something from a famous hand-tinted photograph from the nineteenth century. There was a free catalog available on the Internet, listing all the famous collections and the most famous photographs, organizing them by date or location, or photographer, painter, model - every criterion available - but especially by women's dress. The crinoline; the cage crinoline, dome and pyramid, flat in front; the crinolette; and the bustle were all represented in their various forms and colors. Even pornographic photographs were readily available to show off every type of undergarment. Famous women wore bloomers underneath their petticoats: the kind with an open crotch and single button, which made it much easier to have sex fully clothed, a favorite and celebrated pastime for the elites.
I really started to dance. I did a few acrobatics. The monkey played along. He started dancing a monkey dance, waving his long monkey arms and hands, using his tail to stand up. He was upstaging me, the monkey bastard. I stripped off my jacket. I started unbuttoning my shirt. The game was on, but poor, little monkey boy didn't know what I had in mind. Having taken off my shirt, I rolled it up and started whipping him. The monkey didn't like it. The deejay started playing DEVO's 'Whip It.' I gave him another thumbs-up. Club 2000 never had a better floorshow: that was it.
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.
MÉL: We locked the door. I would stay after school and she would make love to me. She would say, "Oh Mélissa: thank God he created woman. You are so beautiful. I want to kiss you all over." She would unbutton my blouse and take my breasts out. She would look at them for the longest time. And then, she would nurse me. She would suck my teat so hard I wanted to scream. But I didn't: I would moan like a little pussycat. I would wrap my legs around her and press myself against her body. Sometimes, I would go underneath her tunic and hide there. In the dark, I would lick her sweet tangerine - my face was covered with nun-juice: I was in heaven. Then, when I came out, she would lick the honey off my face and kiss me. She would thank me. We would take off each other's clothes and we would hug. Our legs would wrap themselves around each other and we'd be rubbing up and down, setting our bushes on fire, drenching them in juice, trying to get our pussies to kiss.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 2, Science & Reform Schools, Section 12, Economic Justice, Paragraph 48
We were standing in a nice corner. The walls around us were high and windowless. Concrete was crumbling and cracking itself. There was a lot of rusted metal. The ground was littered. "You know what I like about big cities? I like these kinds of places: the buttholes and the bellybuttons." There was even some neglected shrubbery around us. It was bordering the crumbling concrete steps upon which Luka was seated. I placed my foot beside his on the lowest one. I started balancing my leg. I thought of the stairs outside our old apartment. I thought of the opium dealer - as a character from a New Comedy, with Luka, the poor yeoman; Anicetus, the corrupted son of an equis; and me, Andreas: the lowly manservant, the torch-bearing slave.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 14, Referencing the Past, Paragraph 16
I threw myself at her knees. "Oh, beloved," I said. "We only seem to live in vanity; but I have hope for us; and I have faith, and love..." I was stroking her thighs. She opened up her legs and let me in. On my knees, I pressed myself against her bosom. I unbuttoned her blouse. She removed my shirt. We became even more amorous.
Upon reaching the downstairs room, I closed the door. Going to the sofa, I began to strip. I unbuttoned half my blouse before I tore it off. Unzipping my skirt, I started tugging it down my thighs. I cursed myself for wearing stockings. Rolling one of them down, I looked at the clock: one minute before midnight. Tearing off the rest of my underwear, I cursed myself for wearing so much clothing - but, standing in the middle of the room stark naked, I now approached the fireplace. Kneeling before it, I opened its doors. I looked inside: it was very dirty; the flue was closed. I opened it, letting a small cloud of ash fall: I cursed myself for not preparing it earlier. I looked at the clock. There was still time. I turned myself around, my back facing the fireplace, and, positioning my hands behind me, I felt the cold tile.
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.
Tatum screwed it off. She pulled her arm into the body of her suit. She found the PDA. She squeezed it through her collar. She took it with her gloved hand. She pressed the red button. Tatum counted. It was supposed to take five seconds. She looked down. The man was half-way up. Tatum reached ten. Something was wrong. "Hee-hee."
Fu smirked. She started unbuttoning her shirt. She didn't have time to take it off. Tae pulled her in. She yelped. She thrashed her arms about like a baby. Tae held her up by her bottom. He laughed. "Can't you swim?" he asked. He didn't wait for an answer. He kissed her on the mouth. Fu kissed back.
The women left the gravity carousel. They hopped across Oda Plaza. Tatum leapt ahead. She made sure the .17 g force was having the appropriate effect on Miss April's body. She watched her bosom bouncing slowly. She said, "You're pretty good in those heels." Miss April smiled bashfully.
Tatum tried crop tops and halternecks. She found tight sweaters. Miss April suggested she buy a set of knee-breeches-one with buckles all the way down the sides, another with buttons.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Ms. Read. I believe my secretary showed you how to operate the PDA." Tatum nodded. "May I see it?" Tatum pulled it from her purse. "It's very important this not fall into a stranger's hands." Uzumaki pointed to a red button. "This device uses a special silver-oxide battery. If you should ever need to destroy it, hold down this button for five seconds. The battery will overheat. It will catch fire. It might even explode. Be aware of that."
"Don't be afraid," said Bei. Her breasts dripped like immense cloth sacks straining a whole week's worth of doufu. They sagged below her belly button. "Jump in." She turned to follow Kung up the side of the rocks.
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.
"Button" does not make an appearance in Sorry Miss Jackson.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
I checked the clock. Thirty seconds to midnight. I dropped the keys. I unbuttoned my sweater. I tore it off. I threw it towards the couch. I pulled up my dress. I twisted out of it. I dropped it. I brushed down the straps of my bra. I reached back. I wrenched apart the clasp. My breasts bounced free. I dropped the bra. I rolled down my tights. I almost tripped. I yanked them off. I shoved down my panties. They fell to my feet. I pulled one leg out. My toes got caught. I flapped them around. They were loose. I kicked the panties behind me.
Mark and Bill meanwhile were flipping through their respective letters. Mark looked up and caught sight of the old man bending over again and looking through his viewfinder. Mark sped up. He was going to get a glimpse of the eagle before it flew off. He floored the gas. Oblivious to the dangers beyond, he was rushing past the hedgerow. He craned his neck and saw a giant blue and white eagle on the side of Bill's truck. The professor hit the shutter button. Mark frantically swerved. The camera's continuous drive clicked and clicked. Mark hit the brakes. The truck slid heading straight for the professor. Its wheels locked. It surfed on the unswept gravel of the westbound lane of Profile Road and thankfully stopped before crossing the center line. Just as a UPS truck headed east. The driver saw the mass of white coming from his left and instinctively swerved away. Right into the professor. The old man was launched into the sky. Mark watched in horror as the body sailed a good 60 feet before flailing onto the ground. Mark looked at the UPS truck. The driver was paralyzed. Mark looked back at the body. He drove the 60 feet between them. There was no time to run. Reaching the remains of the professor, Mark curbed the wheels. He put the gear in park. He pulled the hand brake. He shut the engine and took out the keys. He didn't want anybody accusing him of not following proper dismounting procedures. He hopped down to the body and saw there was little to be done. He called for an ambulance.
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 button 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 "button." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
To promote democracy, the strong must empty themselves of their strength. The weak must be granted the opportunity to grow strong. We cannot force the end of patriarchy. To do so simply perpetuates feudalism under a different name.
Help me maintain the "Button" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art...is he certifiable?
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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