Michal's deliberating on the idea of enhancing his overwhelming Fiction Corpus with a book about fiction books; cites fatigue
Posted:
I can't reject the feasibility of exercising English as a global lingua franca. I don't accept the uninspiring fashion in which the English tongue is taught.
Boosting one's expertness with a language isn't like making a safer match. A language - a living tongue - isn't merely an instrument that you can learn to wield with a greater amount of precision. A living language cannot be unyoked from the shared logic of a group of people of which it is a description. A language isn't recited; it happens - and keeps happening as long as a circle of people keeps using it.
To make a person recite English is to rob her of its cultural context. A good instructor must develop a plan for introducing it; the bravest student goes out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will define a language based on a specific corpus, a body of written works of varying scope and consistency. They could include everything from a book about literature to some real kid stories. I burned many candles creating my "awe-inspiring" Fiction Corpus in order to form a distinct type 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 fashioned a million words and I have tabulated them, reformulating them - not simply to teach the English language but to promote the human soul, and to encourage that spirit or soul not just to recite but to happen.
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
One week after arriving in Europe, I met a woman in the sauna on the ground floor of the large villa she shared with her ex-husband. Four weeks later she was sharing a small rain-soaked tent with me in Vienna, our little gas-fired stove barely capable of boiling a cup of water. It wasn't until we reached Croatia that we decided to invest in a large electric kettle. It was quite the luxury and it made me very happy.
As an artist, from the beginning of my adult career, my work had been devoted to the problem of body acceptance, a goal that I would later learn was shared by a whole community of people called naturists, a humble portion of which I discovered residing in Poland, a country whose cultural conservatism does not lend itself readily to forward thinking. One of those forward-thinking Polish naturists happened to be Margo.
I had 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.
6,000 miles. One car. One tent. We started learning how to listen. We started learning how to open up. We started cooperating. Even when we were angry, even when it was so difficult that it didn't seem like it would turn out well, we stuck it out. We completed the trip and we came back happy. We had beaten the devil on the road. Back home more devils were waiting to abuse us. More anger. More fear. More sadness. This time we were prepared. This time we had each other and we could harken back to the joy and the trust and the suprise that 6,000 miles had created. We could remember what it was like to live in one tent.
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 Bridge
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 bridge in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word bridge, 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 bridge is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Bridge
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word bridge.
Video of me pronouncing "bridge."
Definition of Bridge
A bridge is usually a dry place that connects two opposite banks of a waterway but it can also carry you over a road or even just a hole in the ground. As an artifact it can even carry you in a figurative sense over any sort of distance or gap. It can also refer to the act of traversing such a distance or closing such a gap.
Common use of bridge in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word bridge.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word bridge.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word bridge.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word bridge.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Bridge 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 bridge.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Bridge."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word bridgeand 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 bridge, 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 #6472
im told the bridge is almost done. the last modules are in the water.
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.
The town of Treblinka lay before them like a storybook, the right page already flattened out against the ground, stretching northward all the way to the town of New Court, the left page still hanging in mid-air, supported by the belfries of Town Hall, the Church of Sts. Peter and Paul, and St. Hedwig's Basilica, lifted by the hilltop neighborhoods of Bridge Street, and especially by the one on Casimir the Great, which rose directly to the southwest, almost blocking the view, but, nevertheless, below the horizon, its many-colored houses perhaps wishing for greater heights, but, unfortunately, constrained by the fact that each house was indivisibly connected to the other: a block of townhouses on the hilltop, anchoring the landscape and yet reaching high, as if its exclusive inhabitants were uncertain whether it were truly time to turn the page.
The Martian, thanks to Stalin's forethought, turned up on his own. He was among the dead after we stormed the Radisson Hotel, which Stalin suggested we do posthaste. If not for that assault, he might have escaped through the park. No doubt the Krupnik had made some kind of shady arrangement for his partner's sake by bribing one of the checkpoints, but, fortunately, Jesus's Confederation had men stationed on every bridge and every checkpoint around the Old Town, making sure that no deals were made. By then, the Martian, realizing his plan had gone to hell, must have figured out that the park was his only chance. The Radisson had no doubt been a center of operations for terrorists on that side of the city.
"The Old Town is surrounded. All the bridges from the north - Sikorski Bridge, Pomorska Bridge, University Bridge, Sand Island Bridge, Peace Bridge, Grunwald Bridge - they're all defended with machine guns. There's no way we're going to cross into the Old Town from Center City - it's impossible, alright? We have to go north, take the bypass and swing around to the south."
Reserve Army units were small and efficient. They were specialists. Perhaps these weapons were for them. I had seen Reserve Army troops guarding University Bridge. What were they doing here? thought Jesus. Were they here to help the Brigade? Where the hell was the Brigade? The streets were almost empty. So was the alley, until there came a white electric truck floating around the corner.
So we drove, meter by precious meter, crossing the bridges over City Canal, the old river, and Bitterling Canal, one after the other, until, finally on the other side, the soldiers at the checkpoint let us through. We turned west, towards the cemetery, and, while passing its measured groves, Jesus said, "Where's the artillery?"
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
In that other document - that infamous one - among the many privileges of marriage that are listed as concrete reasons for having the right to marry, there is listed the exclusive marital benefit that bestows "presumptions of legitimacy and parentage of children born to a married couple." Now how are we to extend that privilege to couples for whom such things are impossible? There is indeed "one unbridgeable difference" between those couples and traditional married couples.
You should, however, go down to Jermyn Street and find me something. I don't care what it is exactly, so long as it's something mannish, something you would like. It's not for me to wear: I want to spray it around the house, all over the furniture, the bathrooms, the studio, and especially my bed. Obviously I'll refrain from entering the other bedrooms - don't worry about that. Besides, you're not planning on coming back any time soon, so there's no reason why you shouldn't do it. If you don't want to go all the way to St. James then go to Mayfair. Although I suppose that would be the same thing. Go to Knightsbridge - but stay away from Harrod's: I don't want you doing business there. Although, come to think of it, why would I have you do business anywhere in the West End?
How challenging it was at that very moment, when, in my troublesome state, my eye carelessly fell upon its rectangular form: how promising did that running tape recorder seem! how reckless my judgment! how beautiful its mechanical uprightness! I actually entertained thoughts of diversions, of stealing away that tape and running down Prospect Street, hiding in dark alleys, listening in frustration, running all the way to the bridge and throwing its unhelpful carcass in the river. I thought of feigning sickness, and climbing down from the second story - to what purpose I do not know, but I did think of it.
I amused my company with a story about how I first came to London, and how I took the Underground to Leicester Square, and then proceeded to walk toward Shakespeare's Globe for a performance. "According to the Underground map," I said, "it was only a hop, skip, and a jump across the footbridge. But, after crossing the River, there were absolutely no signs for the Globe. And, with half an hour to go, the South Bank kept stretching in front of me, until finally I had to run for it. That was the first and last time I used a Tube map to navigate. It took an Olympian effort to make that show, especially since I didn't even have tickets. Luckily, they were able to squeeze in another groundling; but after hauling myself across that bank, no matter how good they were I could hardly stand the performance."
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 11, The Underground, Paragraph 7
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.
The woman cried, "I will." She picked up the weapons. She added, "As soon as I have stood on the bridge and peered into the underworld." She faced Gog with her legs astride. "For now, I am a warrior. We have a land to conquer."
Gog was impressed by this audacity. He accepted the woman as his consort. The people recognized her as Magog, living embodiment of the light of Mithra.
Cresting the summit, Gog saw what seemed like a small valley. It was shrouded in fog. He was overjoyed. He was sure he would find the palace of the Bhag. He would stand on the bridge that spans the underworld. He would see his ancestors. Mithra would have no excuse. She would have to sleep with him.
The woman's eyes narrowed. She said, "The bridge of Judgment that spans the underworld: does it not lie in the shadow of High Harrah?"
"So say those who drink the Haoma [i.e., in this case, the plant worshipped by early Iranians as a divinity, thought to bestow upon them immortality.]"
The woman put down her dagger. She looked into Gog's eyes. She said, "Take me with you." Gog squinted.
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.
"Bridge" does not make an appearance in Sorry Miss Jackson.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Orbitz pulled up the hood of his skin-suit. Destiny lay aboard the Nautilus. Orbitz sputtered his way towards the stern of the ship. By the time he got to the airlock he could see the flashing red lights of an intruder alert. Marriott had done her job. Orbitz boarded the ship. He looked at the clock. There wasn't much time left before his bomb would explode. He headed carefully towards the gallery. He wasn't sure how this was going to happen. When he got to the hatch he saw Heather Mills. All eight of her legs were stretching to their limit. She was craning her head over the edge of the window, straining to see the Argo. She lifted herself a little higher with the hand bar. She dropped her doll. It didn't matter. She was fascinated by the ship's slow spinning descent. It was already transitting the planet. "That's why she doesn't see me," thought Orbitz. "She's distracted by the view. She knows there's an intruder but she's acting like nothing's wrong." Orbitz wondered for a moment if he had told himself too much. If Heather Mills might know what was happening. He tried to remember what he had told himself so many years ago. He smiled. He had mentioned the sauna. He had tried in vain to change his past. He had said go to the sauna. It was the one piece of the ship that went back in time. Heather Mills had read his mind on the bridge. That's why she was here. She had come to be next to the sauna. It was on the other side of the hall. Like a child she had been distracted. Orbitz realized his entire destiny pivoted on the childishness of this pathetic little girl. It made him give the lightest of chortles. Heather Mills jerked her head. She saw Orbitz's reflection in the dark part of the glass. Before she could turn around he had shut the hatch. He locked it. He turned and walked into the sauna.
The orbits of Captain Orbitz as told and retold by trillions of Orion systemizens, indeed systemizens from across many a galaxy, never fluctuated from their purpose of helping Captain Tycho "Tych" Orbitz conquer his home galaxy. Tych was firm from the day he resigned his commision as a courier in the Star Alliance to the day he vanished into space. Many were afraid he would come back. Many more hoped he would. They thought he was out pirating somewhere with Lalunia, his pheromonically irresistible great-great-great-great-niece, or ruling a planet with the beautifully blue Sara Lee, or fighting the jilted queen of the Astrazeneca or playing chess with CAROline the computer that loved him. They didn't know he was dead. They had no idea he had died long before he had even resigned his commission. Before he hijacked the tesseract marking the beginning of his rebellion or piloted the stolen ship Nautilus into the singularity the man had physically removed his own dead body from the bridge. He had no choice. At the time the ship was scheduled to be inspected by Star Alliance sanitation officers.
Orbitz arrived at the Houston space elevator. He took no bags through customs. Nobody questioned him. At the orbiting platform he bought a fancy skin suit. He chartered a shuttle to take him to his ship. Within an hour he saw the widowmaker stretching out towards the galactic pole. Forestays came into view. They glittered from the main mast in quick succesion like spectral strands. Stone tentacles emerged. From every direction they clustered into the humongous figurehead of the Nautilus Pompilius. Its one brooding eye kept careful watch above its gaping hyponome. Orbitz pulled the hood of his skin suit over his head. He affixed his breathing apparatus. He disembarked directly into space. With a single canister of propellant he reached the airlock nearest to the bridge. He climbed aboard.
On the bridge the life support system was already running. Orbitz turned on a monitor. He took out a small keyboard and typed, "Marriott, are you monitoring the ship's systems?"
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 bridge 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 "bridge." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
Life is a spinning sphere with Joy at one pole and Sadness at the other. Each continuously feeding its pair. Joy flanked by the emotions of Trust on one side, Surprise on the other. Trust leading to Anticipation; anticipation leading to Fear. Surprise leading to Disgust; disgust leading to Anger. Anger and Fear fueling our Sadness. Sadness giving way, in time, to Joy; through Hope, an orientation towards Love. Love, an openness towards Joy, Trust and Surprise; the sum of emotion; emotion amplified by others. Multiplied and divided, in equal parts. Such that to those from whom it has been subtracted, we must add. Until we are whole.
Help maintain the "Bridge" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art...is he mental?
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.
Michal Recommends:
