Michal is considering the concept of complementing his staggering Fiction Corpus with a treatise on the meaning of fiction; cites fatigue
Posted:
I can't reject the potency of utilizing English as a worldwide language. I don't trust in the tepid approach by which English is taught.
Boosting one's adeptness with a language isn't like creating a safer match. A language - a living tongue - isn't merely an instrument that you can learn to use with a greater amount of precision. A language can't be sequestered from the philosophical currents of a circle of people of which it is a description. A language isn't recited; it happens - and keeps happening as long as a circle of people keeps using it.
Teaching a student to recite English is to strip him of its cultural context. A proper teacher has to find a method of introducing it; the bravest pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe words on the basis of a specific corpus, a set of written language of various scope and consistency. A corpus can include everything from a book about literature to some real bible stories. I suffered many a sleepless night creating my "terrific" Fiction Corpus to form a special class 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 constructed a million words and I have diagnosed them, reshaping them - not merely to teach American vocabulary but to promote the human spirit, and to coax 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...
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.
Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter Margo.
I had grown up in America. Land of opportunity. I came of age in the booming 90s when everything was possible. She had grown up in Poland. She had come of age at a time when the Soviets were making sure that there wasn't even anything to eat in the country. I couldn't even properly translate the word "opportunity" into Polish.
Do unto others as you would have done unto you. But how to judge what we would want done to us if we've never been in somebody else's shoes? If we've never been abandoned by our mother, how do we treat somebody who has? Somebody who seems to constantly suffer the repurcussions of it? Margo and I had 46 days and 6,000 miles to try on each other's shoes. We had one car and one tent in which to hear each other's words. We learned to cooperate. We started learning 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 Rock
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 rock in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word rock, 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 rock is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Rock
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word rock.
Video of me pronouncing "rock."
Definition of Rock
A rock is a natural artifact of variable size composed of variable mineral content characterized most conspicuously by the fact that it is hard. It can also refer to a place or to a kind of artifact or place or person defined by this artifact or to the fuel that was most important to humanity at the birth of civilization and which continues to support certain acts like building or music performance, though in both cases it is often supplanted by other fuels. It can also refer to an act of oscillation.
Common use of rock in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word rock.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word rock.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Rock 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 rock.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Rock."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word rockand 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 rock, 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 #1702
what kind of a crock am i in. where is louis vuitton.
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.
This is not to say that Jesus didn't love his enemies. He adored them. He admired their courage, respected their zeal. He placed himself among them. He didn't hide behind armored personnel carriers. He didn't use artillery to liquidate buildings. The rockets he had he rarely used. Jesus had all the time in the world. He waited when he felt like he should. He walked into a building when he wanted it. He wasn't afraid of putting himself into a body bag. He wasn't afraid of death from terrorists.
In such a scenario, it seems entirely possible that the first prey might have been some kind of larger mammal. If such was the case, then the first hunter, using a fractured rock, might have procured for himself yet another weapon: a large bone, or, if his prey happened to be a bovid, a horn. However, considering the prevalence of other, more established predators, it seems entirely likely that man's awareness of large bones and their potential as weapons was, to a large extent, contemporaneous with his knowledge and use of sticks and stones. This presents an interesting question.
"I'm giving it to the neighbors at six o'clock, but, after that, I might have certain things to do before I'm free, so," Jesus rocked his head, "we'll have to see about it."
We were among Capitalists that day. When we got to the Sanctuary in Lichen, it was full of them. In trousers, crinoline, made-up and dyed - if Marx were alive, he would have sat on a rock and cried. We were impressed, but uncomfortable. We wandered; the church's nave was huge. The floor was emptied. There were three different orchestras preparing to play. I wondered how badly the Church needed money - not many people could rent out a Sanctuary for a private party, but Sacha Cohen-Krupnik, now that his father was dead, was certainly one of them. Perhaps your grandfather was allowed to use it, in exchange for giving the Church and the Cosmonauts their privileges on Mars.
With quickened pace, I went south by southwest. I stumbled onto a beautiful thing: a boletus with a brown cap, brown and white striations along its entire length, a fairly long stem with a short and stubby chunk at the bottom. It was tender - seemingly tough but delicate, seemingly rough but soft. Nicknamed 'Cossack,' like the free men who dwelt in the East, like the peasants who escaped from serfdom, she was endangered: she was covered by a hideous fly agaric. The beast had grown up right next to her, casting his cold, inescapable shadow on top of that lonely Cossack with his bright red-orange poisonous cap. I went to take her away, but I was careless: I ripped her cap. Lifting her up, I carefully cleaned her foot. Putting her into my bag, I let the fly agaric live. Blessed was he for sheltering my Cossack. Looking up, in the distance, I saw the wretched beast's accursed father: the largest fly agaric I had ever seen. He was seated on a hill, enormous and disgustingly proud. I threw a rock and crushed 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.
So, by the time he reached my groin, I have to admit: I was rock-hard. But that doesn't mean anything. My own hand will make me rock-hard - it doesn't mean I want to make love to it. And I certainly didn't want to make love to Giovanni. I didn't want his giant penis in my mouth or up my ass. I didn't want my humble penis penetrating any part of his body whatsoever. And that's why I told him to stop. I told him kindly, respectfully, and firmly: stop. And, however disappointed he was, he did respect my wishes. That was the end of that.
NIKE: Look: I'm serious here. Take Greek restaurants, for example: I'll sell them Ancient Greek Hydromel. I'll put ancient Greek writing on the bottle - they'll go crazy for it.
ANDY: Planet Hollymead?
NIKE: Alright: it's obvious: you're unwilling to appreciate my genius.
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.
Tae took up his spear. He walked down the shore. He searched in vain for a cove or a tidal pool. The water was too high for mud flats. He would have to wait for the tide to go out. He headed back to Bo. He walked along the tree-line. He came across a sinkhole. It was as wide as Tae was tall; twice as deep. Tides, he thought, must have caused an underground cave to collapse. The walls were steep and rocky. The floor was moist. "If only there were wildlife," he thought. "We could make a trap."
Gog considered that. He realized such satisfaction was something to be desired. He removed his belt. He placed the buckle onto a rock. He knelt in front of it on one knee. He addressed the buckle. He slowly lifted the blade. He addressed the buckle again. He slowly lifted the blade. He swung. The top bar snapped.
The woman laughed. "You're half done. Now the sword is too dull to do the rest."
Tatum boarded the jump-ship. The sling released. The missile shot into the sky. Earth glimmered in the distance. The intercom ringed. "Attention ladies and gentleman, agnathids and agnathas. This is your captain. We have completed a successful jump. Rockets are functioning properly. Please expect to reach Pf Chang in eight hours. Thank you."
Tatum watched it barrel towards the station. The man was closing in on the door. His back was turned. Tatum squinted. The rock was heading towards him. It gleamed in the headlamps. It was on target. It hit the man's shoulder. "Yes," cried Tatum. The man grabbed his arm. He twisted around. He bounced to the ground.
Shephard spotted Pepsi in the opposite corner of the courtyard. She was on top of the wall. "How did she get there?" thought Shephard. There was a rock in her hand. She was going to try to throw it at the guard closest to her.
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.
FLETCHER: It was tough. They didn't have many farming tools. In fact, all they had was a broken shovel. They did have some hammers and some crowbars. They used that to bore a hole through a rock. They put their gunpowder inside and blasted themselves a cistern. They were lucky that the ship's armorer was part of their crew. He could use the ship's bellows and the anvil to make new tools. Unfortunately, soon after they got there, his Tahitian consort fell from a cliff and died - apparently while she was gathering birds' eggs. It didn't take long before he was threatening to leave unless they allowed him to take one of the Tahitian men's wives. Nobody was very happy about that, but he was the blacksmith. They couldn't afford to lose him.
– ACT I, line 612
FLETCHER: Oh, marriage! Where would man be without thy warm bondage? Those who fear the rope will never know the pleasure of being tied up: of pushing with all one's might only to stand still. It is a perverse joy, indeed, to take the plunge through the trapdoor: to hear one's soul snapping in two, pushing one's heart into one's throat: to say the words, 'I do.' To wed and then to bed - how old-fashioned an order! One cannot help but desire permanence in such an ever-changing world. To oppose it, lashed to a rock, feeling its weight crush one's spirit, may be a Promethean punishment best reserved for the noble. It is no wonder that only the force of custom and law kept so many together for so long. Matrimony is not for the faint of heart. So watch out, you concubines and concubinaries - you cohabitants and live-in friends: both cataracts and calm pools await you, but no peace at that river's end: just the wide, gaping maw of dissoluteness and abandon: the ocean of human desire, with nothing to do but sink. So swim home, like salmon, and enjoy rest: the comfort you get from being tied up. My prayers were answered: I am a man again - and soon to be more: a husband. Wish me luck, for the night is still young, and many acts of husbandry await me.
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 detective circled around the body. He couldn't see a wound. Just the redness on the face. "How is it still standing," he whispered to himself. His partner poked the cadaver. It rocked a few inches back and forth. "Enough of that, Bob," said the captain. "Proctor's seen it. Get that body on the gurney."
"Wait a minute," said Proctor. "There's no lividity in the feet. If this person was upside-down there should be more than just a red face."
Sir Lewis wasn't surprised by the scores. He rocked the individual competition. If not for his brain-dead team he could've won. One other math genius in his high school was all he needed. Instead he was matched with doofuses.
The surveillance team was lucky they weren't airlocked into oblivion. They caught up with the transport. They rocketed past its puny sails. When the passengers disembarked at one of Earth's orbiting elevators Orbitz was among them. The men breathed a sigh of relief. They decided to cling to their subject like spoiled lettuce. If Orbitz was aware of them he didn't show it. He went straight to a curiosity shop outside of Lubbock, Texas. The men waited in the street in a nondescript white autovan. They plugged in their earpieces. They heard the jingling of a bell. Footsteps.
Proctor called the cops. Even the captain showed up. They did a thorough search. They found nothing. The captain suggested leaving a patrol car. Proctor didn't like the idea. He didn't know who he could trust. Bob suggested he take Proctor's convertible for the night. "That way they won't think you're home," he said. "I'll pick you up in the morning. We'll have breakfast."
Proctor agreed. He threw Bob the keys. "It's out back," he said. Two minutes later an explosion rocked the neighborhood. The convertible was on fire.
Grendel's mother came to take care of her. She took her to live with an ogre. The ogre scowled at Grendel. Her heart began to hurt. As if there was a rock in it. She realized it wasn't her heart. It was her breast. It hurt on both sides.
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 rock 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 "rock." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
St. Sebastian was a member of the Roman Emperor's praetorian guard who had the audacity to teach Christian values while on the job. I think active duty American military men and women who don't vote or who don't publicly express a political opinion because of the uniform are either being idiotic or are being cowed by the threat of punishment from a superior. Either way, they're eunuchs. My purpose in creating the St. Sebastian Series is to put the flesh and face of the true soldier front and center. The good soldier puts his mission ahead of himself. He often ends up dead. The true soldier knows a bad mission when he sees one and he isn't afraid to say it. Saint Sebastian was not a cow, despite what clever people would have you believe. Saint Sebastian is a patron saint for all protestors who face the arrows of the mob for speaking out.
Your purchases keep the "Rock" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting Polish 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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