Michal's debating the notion of augmenting his jumbo-sized Fiction Corpus with more great fiction books; cites fatigue
Posted:
I think highly of the possibility of utilizing English as a global lingua franca. I don't believe in the fatiguing design by which the English language is taught.
Improving one's familiarity with a language isn't like launching a bigger bomb. A language - a common tongue - is not just a tool that you can teach yourself to use with a greater amount of precision. A shared language can't be torn from the shared logic of a tribe of people of which it is a description. A language isn't recited; it happens - and keeps happening as long as a circle of people keeps using it.
To make a student recite English is to strip her of its cultural context. A capable educator has to find a way to introduce it; the smartest pupil goes out to seek it.
A dictionary - properly used - can become an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe a language on the basis of a particular corpus, a set of written works of varying scope and consistency. Such a corpus can include anything from a book about literature to some real ghost stories. I lost many a sleepless night developing my "tremendous" Fiction Corpus to form a new genre 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 assembled a million words and I have scrutinized them, reshaping them - not just to teach an American tongue but to reveal the human soul, 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.
Call it an accident. Call it divine will. I was never supposed to meet Margo...if not for one man's random criminal act...another abuse piled upon humanity by a fellow human. A robbery. A purse-snatching of a purse that happened to contain a passport. An assault on the human body. One of society's bad habits that I had come to fight as an artist working for body acceptance.
I was American. Freshly arrived in Europe and the new owner of a '97 Ford Escort made in Germany. The only thing I had to complain about was the fact that the owner's manual was in German. She was from Poland, and a German-language owner's manual for a car bought in Poland wasn't the only thing she had to complain about. Something as small as that didn't even register.
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 Big
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 big in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word big, 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 big is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Big
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word big.
Video of me pronouncing "big."
Definition of Big
The word big refers to something of a particular size that relative to something else generally seems to appear to have greater mass or volume.
Common use of big in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word big.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word big.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word big.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word big.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word big.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Big 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 big.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Big."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word bigand 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 big, 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 #4875
i need to settle down. start a family. i always told myself wait for the big score. now i have it i dont know what to do. cant buy a family.
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.
I spoke. "Tomorrow morning at dawn: there's an ancient battlefield where the Austrians were crushed by the Prussians in eighteen-sixty-six: the battle of Königgrätz: be there. They say you can still find ancient bullets if you look hard enough." I looked into her big, beautiful brown eyes. "I'll find you some."
The courts balked: whether by citing lack of competence or jurisdiction, or by hiding behind inherent technical impossibilities or certain philosophical ambiguities, they ultimately refused your grandfather his precious victories. Did he care? No: "It's for the principle," he said. "If the most disgusting people on Earth can do it, why can't I? Those people get loads and loads of money just because their doctors didn't say: 'Look: your kid's gonna have Down syndrome: better have an abortion.' If the most vile parents on the planet can stand before a judge and claim 'wrongful life' in the case of their retarded children, why can't I ask for help? Sooner or later, someone's gonna crack: I can feel it. You just have to get blue enough."
"No: they would dissipate. But don't forget: his paws were real. They could hit you in the face - and the Lonely Planet must've been strong: he was the fastest thing on four legs - or, four paws, as the case was. He was so fast, he could outrun his own body - swear to God: if you were lucky enough to see him running by, you would see his tail was bigger by about six or seven feet: he would look hungry, 'cause he was thin - but that was just his body trying to catch up, like a comet - that's what people said his name was, before he died."
When I went to the paper-money-actuated coin dispenser, I removed a high-denomination bill from my wallet and a monkey stole it. He came out of nowhere and ripped it from my hand. He was a half a meter long, with a somewhat longer tail. He was tan colored, with a big, round head, a bare brown face and well-built arms and legs. He looked at me from two meters away and said 'Come and get it.' He was thick; his body was nice and thick - well-fed - his belly was bulging out like nobody's business. "You've got a lot of nerve," I said, "with a belly like that." He was standing erect, using his tail for support. Then he placed the paper money into his mouth, turned around, dropped to his little monkey hands and walked away - very, very slowly. The bastard didn't even run; he walked.
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.
Finally, I knew where I was, and I suggested we go to St. James's Park; everyone agreed. So we started walking toward the River. And before long, we turned a few corners and saw the bridge ahead of us. But as we were passing by the Aquarium, I made everyone cross the street, so that we were on the southern side. This way, when we climbed onto the bridge, the Houses of Parliament stretched in front of us. But I turned away from their majesty, and, looking down the South Bank, I saw the hospital. Big Ben began to ring. I raised an eyebrow, but I kept on walking.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 17, Crossing Paths, Paragraph 1
ANDY: Actually there's a chance he might wake before he dies.
NIKE: I just don't fucking get it. Why do the police make such a big fucking deal?
INDIE: You know why, Nike? Because she's a fucking nun, man. Why would they be looking for a tunic if they didn't know she was a nun?
NIKE: I know, but it just doesn't make any sense. If she's a nun, then why the hell wasn't she wearing a tunic in the first place? Did someone come and steal it right off her back?
NIKE: Gee, thanks. Just remember! you're workin' for me now! whether you like it or not! Oh man, Rothko: I am fucked up. I can't believe a big, ugly motherfucker (named Luben!) ripped my sack off.
INDIE: That's pretty fucked up, man.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 2, Science & Reform Schools, Section 8, Being a Victim, Paragraphs 44-45
NIKE: Le Big Smack. That place is pretty famous; it's been around for a while. It's near the Pantheon. They've got a restaurant in there - it's pretty cool - expensive - the restaurant. The club's cheap. I don't think it opens until really late. I guess they're trying to keep a reputation. They don't ever want to place to be empty.
LUKA: What is it like? Do people watch you?
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 21, Anal Sex, Paragraphs 32-33
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.
Shephard gave her a hard look. Pepsi stared back at him. Her eyes, he thought, are big and brown. They're beautiful.
Shephard started the engine. "Your father misses you," he said.
Patsy knew something big was coming his way. He could feel it every time he saw the same man with the hunched shoulders visit the Dead Horse Marina. Something about it smelled fishy.
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.
KOKOMO: I don't.
GREY GOOSE: You love it. You enjoy every minute of it.
KOKOMO: Like hell I do.
GREY GOOSE: You were born for it.
KOKOMO: That's a lie.
GREY GOOSE: You've said so yourself, haven't you? The day you popped out of your mother's hairy, little cunt, you realized you had to work for a living: you had to cry.
KOKOMO: You are an abomination.
GREY GOOSE: Who taught you to use big words like that?
KOKOMO: Certainly not you.
GREY GOOSE: You've been reading the bible. Get in there.
– ACT I, lines 861-870
LESBIAN: I can put this one back. No one can accuse me of stealing it. I just borrowed it to show that some things in life are more important than others. Whom am I kidding? I took it to get into my landlady's panties. I'm a terrible human being. There have been worse than me - like the person who stabbed that poor girl sixty-two times: the first murderer this island has had to fear in more than one hundred and fifty years. Both suspect and victim were like me: alien to this place. Why did we come? What did we hope to find? Peace? We scared her off. Happiness? Satisfaction? Understanding? Why here? Why do we trespass on other people's land? It stands in our way - but of what? There's nothing beyond what's right in front of us at any given time. There's no way of knowing that unless you trespass. All that one can hope to do is make as little damage as possible along the way. We are all criminals, whether we like it or not. Though some of us are big and some of us small, we are all cut from the same dough. That's not the easiest thing to believe when one man robs or kills another man. What was my crime? Why am I punished? Why am I the only one who's alone? Or is it just my imagination? Are there others out there who can see me? Who know me? Who can feel my pain? If there are, I salute you. I would kiss you if I could. I can't, so I just say, 'Thank you.'
– ACT II, line 583
FLETCHER: You were trying to sneak away.
MS. JACKSON: Your father-
LESBIAN: What's the big idea?
MS. JACKSON: Listen.
LESBIAN: Your mother and I can do whatever the hell we please.
FLETCHER: Whenever the kids aren't looking.
MS. JACKSON: Fletch!
LESBIAN: Your mother is a grown woman.
FLETCHER: Why doesn't she act like it?
MS. JACKSON: That's enough.
– ACT I, lines 973-982
ALICE: It was no big deal. It was some stupid kid with a knife.
FLETCHER: Was it sharp?
LUKE: She didn't have a chance to taste it.
FLETCHER: What did it look like?
ALICE: It was just a regular jackknife. It wasn't very big.
FLETCHER: What did he get away with?
ALICE: My purse.
LUKE: With everything in it.
ALICE: It was so stupid. The cops could've picked him up around the corner if they had just bothered to look. They were such pigs.
FLETCHER: Don't tell that to old Grey Goose! Australian cops guilty of misprision? He would go on a rampage.
– ACT I, lines 157-166
(KOKOMO moans again.)
MS. JACKSON: There it is again.
LESBIAN: I heard it.
MS. JACKSON: It sounds like-
KOKOMO: (off) It's so big!
MS. JACKSON: Kokomo!
GREY GOOSE: (off) Don't worry. It'll fit.
MS. JACKSON: Grey Goose!
KOKOMO: (off) Just stick it in there.
GREY GOOSE: (off) Patience, my dear. I don't want to tear your walls.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
It started with my friend Aaron. Steve as I call him. He's from a Jewish family. Reformed. He's big on cooking. Gardening. Real nature buff. Knows plants by sight. He loves Woodstock. When he suggested I go camping up there with him I was all for it. I'm usually up for anything.
I killed a cat. It was an accident. I was trying to cut its fur. I wanted to show Kelly the ugliness of a shaved pussy. I don't deserve two years of prison for it. Cruelty to animals is nothing next to how humans treat each other. They put me in the same prison I used to guard. At the very least I know which of these bitches aren't shaved. Those are the ones I can fuck. Even when I was a kid I couldn't stand a bare floor. All the blood stains and grime and guts on the linoleum in the kitchen. It was disgusting. It always curled up at the edges. Like Kelly's toes. As soon as I get out of here I'll find that girl. I'll get her the biggest razor I can find.
"I was at work that day," my father explained. "I would have told your mother to get out of the shot. The director, the producer, even what's his name. The actor. They all got on the megaphone. They screamed at her. She refused to budge. They made such a big fuss about it."
For the first time in my rotten life I was proud of my mother.
Back home one day I was watching some random movie from the eighties. My father walks in. He looks at the screen and says, "That's the movie your mother was in." I asked him what the hell he was talking about. He told me to rewind to the part where the big name star is arguing in the streets. Sure enough my mother is in the background standing silently staring through a window.
Some people think I'm a smarty-pants. It's not true. I'm the biggest idiot of all. I immigrated to America. I came willingly. I don't regret it. As bad as things are in this country they're even worse where I was born. A lot of Americans don't realize that. Whenever I hear snobs complaining about how things are I tell them to relax. Take a trip to Woodstock. By the time you get home you'll be grateful.
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 big 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 "big." 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.
Help me keep the "Big" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's importing Polish art...is he meshuggah?
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.