Michal refuses to contemplate the practicality of expanding his humongous Fiction Corpus with a bunch of flash fiction; cites fatigue
Posted:
I believe in the idea of harnessing English as a common language for the world. I do reject the ritualistically sanctioned blueprint with which the English tongue is taught.
Fine-tuning a person's know-how with a language isn't like promoting a more secure lock. A language is not just a tool that you can teach yourself to exploit with greater amounts of precision. A language can't be disengaged 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 a person recite English is to strip her of its cultural context. A capable teacher has to develop a plan for introducing it; the discerning pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. The best dictionaries define words based on a particular corpus, a set of written language of varying size and consistency. A corpus might include anything from a book about literature to a bunch of historical fiction. I lost many a sleepless night forging my "modest" Fiction Corpus to form a distinct genre of dictionary based on the ability of one man to tell a story in myriad forms. It is a labor of love and listening.
I have pieced together a million words and I have investigated them, reformulating them - not merely to teach the English language but to defend the human spirit, and to provoke 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...
In June of 2011 I arrived in Europe for what I hoped would be a great adventure; my only concrete plan, to visit Croatia. By September I had driven 6,000 miles and visited 12 different countries, all with a woman I met on the first Friday of my trip.
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.
I had an American passport. She didn't. And the fact that I was driving a car with Polish license plates gave her ample opportunity to point out the difference. It wasn't just police and border guards who ethnically profiled me. Regular folks did it too. One campsite owner didn't shake my hand until he realized I was an American. By that point, I had trained myself to use a simplified English, something that more closely resembled what passes for a lingua franca in Europe these days. Something Margo was trying very hard to master.
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 Problem
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 problem in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word problem, 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 problem is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Problem
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word problem.
Video of me pronouncing "problem."
Definition of Problem
I have yet to publish the definition of problem.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of problem in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word problem.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word problem.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word problem.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word problem.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word problem.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Problem 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 problem.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Problem."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word problemand 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 problem, 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 #884
i told bieber to get back in the car. and to brace himself. i promised the old lady id fix her peeping lowes problem. bieber said .you mean me.
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.
"It's a serious problem," she said - but she didn't seem so serious anymore.
Some people gave themselves problems. Alcohol was the chief method. For many people, alcoholism was only a symptom. For others, it was what could only be described as a strange and tragically unnecessary life choice. In Treblinka, there was a couple nicknamed the model marriage. Every afternoon, they were seen stumbling hand in hand with wide smiles on their faces. They were drunk, having spent the entire morning walking around town, asking for spare change. "Thirty cents," the woman begged. "That's all I need: for bread." Meanwhile, the man always went to the soup kitchen at the convent. "And one for my wife," he would say, smiling. Then, he would take the soup outside and sell it to some slightly richer man for loose change. Afterwards, the woman went. "One for my husband, too," she would say, smiling. Then, she would sell some slightly richer woman some soup. After a while, the nuns got wise. They began insisting on eating in: no take-out. The model marriage moved elsewhere, having lost their primary source of income.
"The fucking military is collaborating - do you understand that? They're ready to shell the city - their own fucking city! Can you believe that? Instead of having the balls to go from house to house looking for those faggots, they're gonna drop shells! What the fuck is that? That's why they're trying to evacuate the Old Town. They're sayin', 'Leave your homes: go north.' They think if they evacuate Center City and Old Town by having all those people filter through the northern checkpoints, all they're gonna have left is terrorists. That's bullshit. Unless they say they're gonna shell it, not everyone's gonna leave. Not the old people, anyway: they're gonna sit at home until the radio says they're gonna drop shells - even then they're not gonna move. Anyway, who the fuck's gonna say that? That would be idiotic. That would be like saying, 'Hey, terrorists: wake up for the invasion' - so they can slip away? What the fuck is that? The only terrorist you can recognize is the one that's shooting at you. Otherwise, who the fuck is it? Nobody - it's somebody without papers - I don't know - somebody walkin' off with loot. All they gotta do is drop their weapons and voila: they melt away. It's fuckin' bullshit. It's not fuckin' fair is what it is - but that's life. That's business. Like you, you motherfuckin' pip-squeak: what the fuck is your problem, man? You have got balls to screw me up."
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.
How could I talk to him about his problems without feeling like a snake-in-the-grass? Besides, engaging in a conversation like that was practically begging for trouble. Who knew what Albert would ask me? I was not prepared to lie. To put it bluntly, I was very afraid of him. I was even more afraid of Indiana. In fact, I was afraid of any sort of situation where my ignorance could be exploited, and, as far as I knew, that included every situation.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 2, The Assembly & Government Reform, Section 6, Being Obedient, Paragraph 4
NIKE: Don't worry about it, Rothko. I've got everything figured out. If this woman's a nun, like I think she might be, then she has friends from different orders; or, maybe, she has heirlooms - who knows? Anyway: I've mapped out all the convents west of the river. I know where all the Carmelites hang out. I know exactly where the heaviest concentrations of penguins are in the whole damn area...and goddamn it: Rothko! I'm doing my community service - so help me - smack dab in the middle!
ANDY: It's living space. And we kill for it, unfortunately. So I think we'll have more space in heaven. Although I hope we don't have a problem with gravity. Because in this world, if our planet were any bigger, we'd all be very fat - or, at least, we'd think so, because we'd feel so heavy. And I suppose if heaven is what it's cracked up to be, we're all going to feel as light as feathers.
"Hey Nike," quoth he. "I was wondering..." But Nike was almost unconscious. "Hey Nike, wake up," said Luka, and putting the pipe down on the passenger seat he reached into the back and slapped his quarry's knee. "Huh? What is i... Whaddaya wa..." Luka slapped him again. "What?" came the response, but this one was only reflex: Nike was not really ready to listen. "I was wondering," said Luka. "I have this problem. I need some cash for tomorrow. I need around a thousand Euro. Nike, are you listening? I need to borrow a thousand Euro. Hey! Nike!"
NIKE: Because no matter who she is, why would she admit that she was walking around half-naked? Why would she say that she was never wearing a tunic? She's hiding that.
INDIE: Alright, but Nike: the police can check her out. They know whether she's a nun or not.
NIKE: And so what?
INDIE: So if they know she's not a nun, why would they think that she's some random woman who likes to dress up in a veil? I mean, it's absurd.
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.
"What am I going to do?" thought Shephard. He looked around. There was a man tanking a sedan. He was too close to the humvee-there was no time to find keys. A guy in a truck-too far away-too ready to drive off. A car pulled in-behind him, a young man on a motorcycle. Shephard recognized him. It was the man from the accident.
Shephard took another look around the corner. Clark was coming out of the station. A man in a tight uniform was next to him. He was escorting Clark to the humvee.
The policeman was getting agitated. He wanted the money. Clark told him there would be no problem getting it. Shephard was reminded about the motorcycle. He assured the officer he would return it. The policeman frowned. "I have no idea what's going on here," he said. "I don't want to know. Just get me my money."
The truck arrived. Shephard wanted to put the motorcycle in the back. The bed was full of adult toys. "Sorry," said Coke. "You told me you only needed a tow."
She was the type of girl his mother would want him to marry. She was rich, sophisticated, charming, articulate, white, Protestant, not to mention sexually adventurous. It didn't matter she was in her forties. The problem was she was already married.
She looked outside. Neal was nowhere. Tatum realized he had collapsed. She would have to open the door for him. She tried to put on the helmet. It wouldn't lock. The door had bent it out of shape. Tatum panicked. She couldn't go outside without her helmet. She would pass out. She could break the seal. Air from the access tower would protect her.
"A Bantu woman," thought Junior, "in my company. She must be worthwhile." He checked the department listing. She was a secretary for Ann Taylor. That was going to be a problem. Ann was the most successful woman in the history of the company. She worked for the general commercial manager, Randall G. Fitzwater III.
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.
(LESBIAN enters carrying the heirloom pincushion.)
LESBIAN: I still don't know how you could have mistaken me for your wife. It seems pretty strange.
LUKE: Let's just say that sometimes I'm in a wee bit of a rush. Do you know what I mean?
LESBIAN: Regrettably, I think I do.
LUKE: Life isn't always like playing football. I'm like Kokomo: I burned the money.
LESBIAN: What do you mean?
LUKE: After her problems on American Samoa.
LESBIAN: She was on American Samoa?
LUKE: You didn't know that?
LESBIAN: No.
– ACT II, lines 565-573
(FLETCHER exits.)
ALICE: Boy problems?
KOKOMO: It's nothing.
ALICE: Is he being bashful?
KOKOMO: It's slightly more complicated than that, but I suppose.
ALICE: Boys are always bashful around girls they like. They're even worse when they're in love. It doesn't matter how bold they think they are with village flirts. When they're with a girl they really care about, they're either too coy or too serious.
– ACT I, lines 1364-1368
MS. JACKSON: You must be falling asleep after such a long day.
FLETCHER: Mother.
LESBIAN: I can barely keep my eyes open.
FLETCHER: Excuse me.
MS. JACKSON: That's a problem.
LESBIAN: Why?
MS. JACKSON: The laundry's not done. I'll have to take fresh sheets from the sofa bed.
LESBIAN: Don't bother. I'll sleep in here for now.
MS. JACKSON: Are you sure?
LESBIAN: It'll only be for a nap.
– ACT II, lines 262-271
ALICE: Did somebody die?
FLETCHER: Don't ask.
ALICE: Yes.
FLETCHER: Even if your husband had died?
ALICE: It would.
FLETCHER: I've been wanting to confess this for so long. The island makes it hard. Who would have understood me if I had spoken? My mother? I pay my penance every time I hear her cry. She has no idea what part I played in that fire. I can't help feeling that, if I had stopped it, this family would never have had the problems it's had. Nobody died in that fire except for me. It was my own soul burning. As far as the house is concerned, restitution's been made. As for me, who would not find my weakness and ignore it? for the sake of convenience if not for shame. Who would restore my strength from the ashes?
ALICE: Let it be me. I will restore you.
FLETCHER: This is why I've been pursuing you. I knew you'd never give in to me. I saw your strength the moment you arrived: its grace: its beauty. I fell in love with it. I desired it - not for myself, but for its ability to release me from this guilt.
ALICE: Let me release you, Fletcher Christian. I will make you whole again.
FLETCHER: You will forgive me my crime?
– ACT II, lines 184-193
MS. JACKSON: I've been very happy with your service. You've become absolutely indispensable to this venture. Should you choose to continue with me far into the future, I would be most grateful. I already consider you a part of the family. If you should ever have the desire and the opportunity and the willingness to formalize that relationship - sacramentally speaking - I mean that in the fullest sense of the term - even if that requires a certain individual to confirm himself into the Catholic faith - I want you to know that you would enjoy my full support. I mean, namely, that, if one should be so lucky to have you for - I mean, if I should be so lucky to have - that is, I suspect you would find me a better mother-in-law than you have an employer. It's not that I pry. I've realized that - I'm not completely off the mark, am I?
KOKOMO: No. I simply never imagined I was so-
MS. JACKSON: Clearly it took me a while to - anyway: that's that.
KOKOMO: Thank you.
MS. JACKSON: It's incredible how much you remind me of me when I was your age. I too was filled with confidence. My family recognized my strength and valued it. I consider it my duty to strengthen others. May I confide in you?
KOKOMO: Yes.
MS. JACKSON: What I want to tell you isn't easy for me to describe. You have a right to know. I became pregnant with Fletcher before I was married. It took pressure, if not outright coercion, before Grey Goose finally agreed to wed - even though he had always talked about it as if it were a sure thing. I've never understood why it had to be like that, but I feel it's been at the root of most of the problems we've had. I just wanted you to know so that you could be careful.
KOKOMO: Thank you. I can't imagine how hard it must have been.
MS. JACKSON: Indeed. You see how long the pain can last. Be wary, child. Do not commit the same mistake I did.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Nobody had to be bribed. There was no brain-washing. To all those people who changed their minds. You can't take it back. You can't say he's a hero one day and decide the next day you were wrong. That's not fair. Especially when nothing's changed. Except the fact that I'm not today's hero. I'm yesterday's hero. And the war is back on. That's why they curse me. Cause I'm not all-powerful. I'm not the one solution to all their problems. People are capricious.
The skirt on the proctor was distracting. It was too tight. Her sheer stockings weren't helping either. Her face did leave something to be desired. She suddenly looked up. Sir Lewis averted his eyes. He tried to concentrate. Five minutes remaining on the clock and one problem left unsolved.
Orbitz typed. "Show me the log." A list of all actions aboard ship appeared. Orbitz immediately saw the problem. Between his last depature and return the log had recorded three authorized entries. Somebody was on board. Orbitz typed, "Who came onto the ship?"
Marriott took an even longer moment to respond. "You did," she wrote. Something was wrong.
Captain Orbitz came from a long line of distinguished galactic luminaries. His father and his brother had been martyred in a great battle against the forces of Scutum-Centauris. His grandfather was a delagate to the Grand Orion Council from the planet Vancouver. His lineage went all the way to one of the leaders of the original humanoid slave revolt. He was sacrosanct. When his name was red-flagged at the security bureau it was summarily dismissed as an error. It was red-flagged again. And again. Somebody by the name of Rishi Keplar Jorgen Tycho Kalvinicus Orbitz was having associations with the outlawed Wiki-en Society. People went crazy. They wanted him arrested. They wanted him interrogated. There was only one problem. Orbitz was on assignment. He was the second longest-serving courier in the Alliance. He was traversing a wormhole.
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 problem 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 "problem." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Your purchases keep the "Problem" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art...is he wacky?
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.