Michal refuses to contemplate the potential of complementing his solid Fiction Corpus with yet another story book; cites fatigue
Posted:
I regard highly the practicality of upholding English as an international language for the world. I do question the unsensational form in which the English language is taught.
Enhancing a person's skills with a language isn't like bringing about a brighter bead. A language - a spoken tongue - isn't merely an instrument that you can teach yourself to wield with greater amounts of precision. A common language cannot be fractured from the shared logic 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 person to recite English is to cheat him out of its cultural context. An informed teacher must prepare a plan for introducing it; the insightful pupil goes out to seek it.
A dictionary - properly used - can become an influential tool. A decent dictionary will define a language based on a specific corpus, a set of writing of varying scope and consistency. They may include anything from a book about literature to some really short stories online. I burnt many candles forging my "prodigious" Fiction Corpus in order to form a special 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 drawn up a million words and I have reduced them, reformulating them - not merely to teach the English tongue but to reveal the human spirit, and to prod that soul or spirit not just to recite but to happen.
Help Treat Antisocial Personality Disorder With Art
Posted:
Strength and dignity are her clothing...
Proverbs 31:25
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
Lots of people go on road trips. Not everybody criss-crosses Europe in 46 days. Especially not with a complete stranger.
Though as an artist I had been working on body acceptance since the start of my career, and as a one-time practicing figure model was used to being nude in a social setting, I had been left largely unexposed to the community of naturists and nudists working towards the same goal of promoting the human being. Visiting nude beaches and resorts along the East Coast and participating in events organized around New York by Young Naturists America, I was left hungry for more and had come to Europe to see things from their side of the pond. Margo was my introduction.
Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.
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 Bed
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 bed in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word bed, 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 bed is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Bed
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word bed.
Video of me pronouncing "bed."
Definition of Bed
I have yet to publish the definition of bed.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of bed in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word bed.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word bed.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word bed.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word bed.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word bed.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Bed 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 bed.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Bed."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word bedand 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 bed, 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.
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.
Jesus's father didn't care. Your grandfather's fifteen minutes of infamy were long gone; only the dark memory of his gross negligence must have occasionally crossed his mind. What sort of grief plagued him? Was he sorry for killing his wife? or was he sorry that his wife had to die? What was he concerned about? Was he concerned about himself? Was he worried about his own moral integrity? Did he wonder why? Why did he do it? Was it worth it? The sacrifice? Was he conscious of the world's ingratitude? Or did he merely miss her? Did he merely miss his wife? Was it possible that he loved her? What was he thinking? Did he want to become like her? Was that his penance? To lie in bed? choking his veins with heroin? To sell his books for heroin? To lie in sleepfulness and regret? letting everything fall apart? waiting for death? To forget? What was he trying to do? Nothing? Was he that tired? like his wife had been? Had he nothing left to live for? Didn't he care about his son? Did he feel that helpless? Finished? What made him disintegrate? What strange force robbed him of his will to life?
Jesus jumped. Like the wolf, he leaped onto the man's chest, embracing his arms, and, leaning his head down into his neck, as if to kiss him, he grabbed a hold of his tender flesh; his teeth squeezed muscle and vein (the sternocleidomastoid to be exact, and the jugular) which Jesus ripped from the man's neck. Blood was everywhere. Flesh hung from your father's teeth. The man dropped in screeching cries of anguish. Jesus leaned over and took the gun. The door to the Accountant's room flew open. Jesus fired. The man who had taken his letters fell down. The light in the Accountant's room went out. Jesus picked up the lamp (the one he had dropped before he leaped). He threw it into the Accountant's room. He turned around and crouched. The doorman appeared from around the corner with a flashlight. Jesus fired. The flashlight fell down. Jesus got up and turned back. The lamp was still lit inside the room. Jesus approached obliquely. Someone's leg was trying to reach the lamp from behind a desk. Jesus put the rifle's butt by his shoulder and shot the leg. Somebody cried. Then, someone shot, but to no avail. There were two people inside that room at least. Jesus slowly crabbed among the tied-up soldiers. There was a man inside: behind the desk, aiming a pistol through the doorway. Jesus smiled: the man couldn't see a goddamn thing. So Jesus shot him in the head. The other man lifted himself up from behind the desk, swinging his arm around and ready to shoot anything. Jesus shot him in the heart. That was it: five men dead: four guards and one Accountant. Jesus carefully checked every corner with the flashlight. That was it. Everybody else must be robbing the bank, Jesus thought. The real terrorists had no idea. Jesus smiled; he chuckled: there was no one else - just him, and a platoon. Perfect.
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.
When Indiana told me that Albert was sick with a brain tumor, I was genuinely unsettled. I had to pull over to the side of the road, and, before long, my hands were completely black, having rubbed away not only my tears, but most of the ash. I told her how sorry I was. She told me all the specifics. But there weren't many of them yet - it was too soon, said Indiana.
I woke up fitfully as Basia began to pray. It was eight o' clock in the morning. Olympia was already awake; so was Fabric. They were watching television. I made a breakfast of sausage and eggs for myself; the children had cereal.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 6, The Sixth Day, Part 1, Children & Education Reform, Section 7, Becoming Obedient, Paragraph 11
I was more than happy to sit back and watch, gathering what I could from observation. Besides, I was preoccupied: Albert's relationship with his wife was one thing; I was more concerned about his wife's relationship with me. That was something I was not prepared to talk about with anyone - excepting you, of course - and, as I made clear to you, the almost simultaneous development in those two relationships was quite disturbing to say the least. The whole thing was totally suspicious, and, of course, I could only imagine that everything was somehow interconnected.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 2, The Assembly & Government Reform, Section 6, Being Obedient, Paragraph 2
And I have come here not only to beg for your forgiveness, but to ask you, from the very bottom of my heart, to shine upon me just a fraction of your devotion, which you so willingly bestow upon Him, a man I have never known, and of whom I am sincerely and most deeply envious.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 6, The Sixth Day, Part 1, Children & Education Reform, Section 7, Becoming Obedient, Paragraph 8, Clauses 6-7
So I went inside, quickly wending my way through the crowded salon. I went upstairs to the main bedroom. I approached Albert's closet - but, before I got there, I was distracted. Something pulled me towards Indiana's corner. Gowns were draping her screen. Articles of clothing were strewn about, undergarments littering the floor. I approached her infamous mirror. I looked at myself. I saw the door to Albert's closet.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 3, The Third Day, Part 2, Prayer & The Reformation, Section 15, Running Away, Paragraph 2
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.
"A river runs through here," continued the woman with the strong features. "The plain is large enough for all our needs. We should immediately begin preparing rice beds and building levees-unless the three of you want to starve."
Shephard dropped behind the tailgate. It was being held up by bolts. He sped up to one side. He stretched out his hand. He grabbed a hold of the bolt on that end. He pulled it as hard as he could. It refused to budge. It was capped with a nut.
The nut flew off. Shephard pulled out the bolt. He grabbed his handlebars. He dropped back. He kicked the bike into gear. He came up along the other side. He grabbed the bolt. The nut-it was stuck. It wouldn't turn. The humvee was closing in. Shephard grunted. The nut-it budged. It turned. Shephard twisted it. The humvee was on top of him. Shephard's hand couldn't go any faster. The humvee was right behind him. He could hear the window rolling down. The nut-it came loose. Shephard pulled the bolt. He leaned away. He pushed the throttle. The tailgate crashed. Melons flew. They bounced off each other. They exploded onto the humvee's windshield.
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 couldn't agree more.
ALICE: Luke was a real ladies' man before he met me. I practically had to jump into bed with him just to get kissed.
KOKOMO: That sounds awful.
ALICE: I got tired of waiting for him to make a move.
KOKOMO: In the end it did pay off.
ALICE: Sometimes you have to make things crystal clear.
KOKOMO: If only it were that simple.
ALICE: It is. Haven't you ever told Fletch how you feel?
KOKOMO: I like to pretend that I have - but I haven't.
ALICE: Do it. There's no sense in waiting. If you wait too long, you might not be around to say anything. That reminds me: Luke and I are leaving tonight. That letter he got from his manager was definitely bad news for me.
– ACT I, lines 1369-1378
(MS. JACKSON begins to unfold the sofa bed.)
FLETCHER: Were you just outside?
MS. JACKSON: Yes.
FLETCHER: Did you happen to see Kokomo or Alice?
MS. JACKSON: I think I saw them both. I can't be certain; it's dark out there.
FLETCHER: Do you mind pointing me in the right direction?
MS. JACKSON: One moment. Homo, you won't have anything to sleep in.
LESBIAN: I'll just sleep in this.
MS. JACKSON: Don't be silly. I'll get you one of Kokomo's nightshirts.
LESBIAN: That's not-
– ACT II, lines 274-282
(MS. JACKSON and LESBIAN enter.)
MS. JACKSON: You must be exhausted.
LESBIAN: It was quite a climb.
MS. JACKSON: What in the world possessed you?
LESBIAN: The view.
MS. JACKSON: Homo climbed all the way up Mount Pitt.
LESBIAN: It was absolutely gorgeous.
FLETCHER: How long were you up there?
LESBIAN: Long enough to appreciate it. I have to admit that there were a few things I wanted to ponder. It was already dark by the time I came down.
FLETCHER: Listen.
– ACT II, lines 253-261
(KOKOMO exits. GREY GOOSE enters.)
GREY GOOSE: My darling Polynesian beauty, Fletcher must be right. It's pointless for me to put the moves on you - especially since it's obvious you're in love with him. My chances of success were always slim. I never lost faith in a woman's whim. I was certain, if I tried hard enough, you would let me taste-test your sweeter stuff. Each one of my advances you rebuffed. You're too good. My situation has changed now that my dear wife and I are estranged. Perhaps some trickery can be arranged. If I were to slip softly into your bed, not smelling like chattel, but like that perfume you gave my son - that little brat - who cares more about annoying my wife than pursuing the love of his own life, even though I'm the one she causes strife - perchance I might convince you with a kiss - before you discover my artifice - that I am the best way to earthly bliss. It would give me joy. My desire to light this house on fire would be assuaged. Despite what I have said, I will never ignite another house again. I am reborn. Ever since your mistress unleashed her scorn, making me sit in filth, lost and forlorn, in my old cowshed, I have taken stock. I'll no longer blindly follow the flock. I cannot yet say the same for my cock. If my wife's got a lover, I'll be damned if I don't. I'm not going to be crammed away. I'll come back with my monogrammed pajamas. I'll drink champagne and cut loose like there's no tomorrow. I'll introduce Kokomo to my little one-eyed goose and she'll say I'm her daddy. My excitement notwithstanding, I must not invite suspicion. I'll save my strength for tonight!
– ACT II, line 30
GREY GOOSE: Imprisonment: starvation: being pressed to death.
MS. JACKSON: Is that what awaits me, husband?
GREY GOOSE: No.
MS. JACKSON: Then what?
GREY GOOSE: You know what the penalty is.
MS. JACKSON: Homelessness? You think that if you burn my house down, I'll come live in your sty? Fool! I'd rather wander about the island cursing your name for the rest of my life.
GREY GOOSE: Do you know what I adore about fire? More than its color, its beauty, or its warmth? more than its light, its speed, or its age? more than the fear it brings to bug or beast? more than its purity? its fertility? its never-ending energy? or its ability to wander about the island endlessly seeking out its prey? More than all those things, I love its loyalty to itself: its obedience to nature. Oh, wife! When you know how to stoke her, she can be so perfectly predictable.
MS. JACKSON: Fletcher would never let you get away with it.
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 drone of the cicadas overwhelmed every other sound. I didn't hear Matt and Parker until they were in the stable. Kissing and tearing at each other's clothes. I left.
At lunch the next day I overhead Jeff telling Jessica about Matt's conquest. He confirmed that it was the full deal. Jessica asked, "Did Matt tell you?"
John nodded. "Unless he got another one." Proctor was already out the door. He called the policeman up. He passed him on the stairs. When he heard the door to the hallway shut he went back up a flight. To the floor below John's apartment. He found the right door. He kicked it open. Inside stood the shadow of a bed. A desk. John went to the window. He opened the curtains. He started rummaging through the drawers. He didn't have to look for long. "Dear beloved," said a letter. It listed the names of the victims. Starting with Emily.
Indiana lay her head on the crook of my neck. I slid my fingers beneath her underwear. I lifted her onto my hands. I held her by the skin of her bottom. I rocked her. I kept pace with her lilting chest. Our shoulders rose and fell. We were like a mother and child.
She told me Albert was sick. He was going to die. I cooed. I kissed her on the cheek. I told her I would put her to bed.
I avoided Parker for the rest of the summer. I didn't mean anything by it. I thought I should give her space. I was surprised when Jeff mentioned it to me later. He told me Parker was convinced I thought she was a slut. I told him I thought nothing of the kind. I asked him to explain things to Parker. I don't know if he ever did.
After camp was over I went back to the city. I bumped into Sarah one day at the hair salon. She told me she had seen Parker recently. She wasn't doing so well. She had just broken up with Matt.
"We need to talk," came the manly murmur. Elizabeth stone-faced slipped off her husband. She swiveled off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came back nothing was said.
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 bed 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 "bed." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Help maintain the "Bed" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing Polish art...is he meshugge?
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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