Michal is debating the concept of complementing his imposing Fiction Corpus with a fable about writing the perfect online story; cites fatigue
Posted:
I trust in the soundness of exploiting English as a global lingua franca. I don't think highly of the tepid routine with which the English tongue is presented for study.
Enhancing a person's adeptness with a language isn't like introducing a stronger rope. A language - a common language - is not merely a tool that you can learn to manipulate with greater amounts of precision. A shared language can't be partitioned 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 pupils recite English is to cheat them out of its cultural context. A proper teacher must develop a strategy for introducing it; the insightful student goes out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe a language based on a specific corpus, a body of written works of various scope and consistency. This corpus may contain everything from a book about literature to an entire set of british literature books. I created my "insignificant" Fiction Corpus in order to form a specific kind 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 sculpted a million words and I have divided them, reshaping them - not merely to teach the English tongue but to defend the human soul, and to encourage 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...
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 inspired by a young woman's struggle with self-esteem and bulimia, body acceptance had always featured prominently in my aesthetic. Having recently discovered naturism and its mantra of body acceptance in the United States, I was eager to explore the style and philosophy of naturist clubs and the beauty of naturist campsites in Europe. By a trick of fate, I found myself first in Bielsko-Biała, Poland. Margo's home.
From America I brought with me the American can-do spirit. She saw the car that I had bought, the terrible camp stove I had borrowed, and my sundry canned goods and challenged me to make-do. In my optimism I assured her that if we lacked for anything I would make up the difference. She assured me that if she lacked for anything she would find her way to the nearest airport and fly home. Luckily that never happened.
Do unto others as you would have done unto you. But how to judge what we would want done to us if we've never been in somebody else's shoes? If we've never been abandoned by our mother, how do we treat somebody who has? Somebody who seems to constantly suffer the repurcussions of it? Margo and I had 46 days and 6,000 miles to try on each other's shoes. We had one car and one tent in which to hear each other's words. We learned to cooperate. We started learning how to listen.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Understanding the word Hole
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 hole in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word hole, 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 hole is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Hole
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word hole.
Video of me pronouncing "hole."
Definition of Hole
I have yet to publish the definition of hole.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of hole in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word hole.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word hole.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word hole.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Hole 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 hole.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Hole."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word holeand 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 hole, 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 #3298
the whole boat smells like rotten squid. i cant get any sleep. what is chase doing.
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 was told," continued Sapper, "that after we passed Wroclaw, we would exchange places - but no: he was too proud. And you know what? The windshield vents must have been broken or something: I had to wipe the vapor off with a towel every five minutes. When the towel was soaked, I used up all the tissues; then, toilet paper. It was ridiculous. In the morning, I noticed that there was a defrost button; I don't think my grandfather even knows it's there. If I had seen it, I would've turned it on - or at least, I would've tried to - but the night was pitch black! And the windshield was soaked: halfway through the trip, I ran out of paper. My grandfather had to use his hand. He took off his glasses 'cause he couldn't see! Leaning forward, he was squinting out of his one good eye. It was just about the scariest thing I've ever had to live through: tractor-trailers, one after the other, squeezing us, passing us. When they went in the opposite direction, they would blow us so much wind, I thought we would tip over: the whole car would shudder.
"The oil companies," my grandfather's nephew said. "They're the ones who paid Panzer-Tank to 'capture' a 'Martian' - that's where the whole thing started. What the hell do we have against Martians?"
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.
Indiana just came by for a visit. She didn't stay long: apparently, she came by to make a request. A few minutes ago, she asked me whether I could take care of her children tonight. I agreed. Apparently, according to Indiana, she made a deal with the babysitter, who wanted Friday off in exchange for working on Saturday - or maybe, that's what Indiana wanted - I don't know - either way, I'll be spending my night with Fabric and Olympia. Much looking forward to it, dear sister: I haven't taken care of children since our cousin stayed with us for the whole month of August - remember? when you were in Austria and our mother was constantly working on Ramapo? I don't think I did a good job then: I don't think I'll do a good job now, but, anyway, it must be done - for the sake of the greater good or whatnot.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 2, Science & Reform Schools, Section 6, Making a Request, Paragraph 1
ANDY: Who said I was singling anybody out? Are you that confused, Macy? Are you that blind: you can't see what I'm saying? Sexual desire is sexual desire no matter whom you're lusting after. The man who fucks his wife with a condom is just as selfish as the man who buttfucks his boyfriend. The truth is, Macy: a man needs a womb; a woman needs a seed - and that need, in itself, has nothing to do with sexual desire. Now, when a man gives up his seed and a woman offers up her womb, they are giving something to each other - something which they may or may not desire, but, hopefully, if they do, they will receive what they want and they will keep it. Procreation is the only thing that justifies having sex; it is the only thing that makes it not selfish. Now, I don't know why we have to be divided into two sexes. I did not invent humanity. If we were like the birds and the bees, Macy, we would all be fucking our assholes - and women wouldn't even need men to have children.
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
From somewhere beyond the immediate crowd of well-dressed and flashy college students, from somewhere on the periphery there came a deep and unfamiliar voice to stake its claim: "Fitty dolla!" said the voice, causing the whole room to twist its drunken neck and heave its giant head. With such a generous frame, it didn't take me long to register the image of a large black man on the edge of the crowd; but it took the sniggering and the open laughter of a large part of it before I realized: this was no ordinary black man. It was a beggar from Prospect Street.
End this agitato. End this agitato. End this crescendo, diminuendo, crescendo poco a poco reaching the heights of human ecstasy, flittering our fingers, curling our toes and floating, floating down, too heavy to fly, shattering, and falling like rain in a million pieces down, to the ground, away from God's majesty - dashing madly across the keys my fingers flying ran the crescendo up in haste: no love to feel, no love to seize, my heart dying of disease - no time to waste - headlong falling into a pool and treading water, trying to swim, trying to leave but something pulling, pulling down, I forced my way up and out, climbing but slipping, falling, and then regaining myself and then stopping now...ritenuto...oh ritenuto: give me God's mercy: give me God's mercy: give me a moment now, end me my heartache now, end me my heartache now, please give, now: sotto voce, ben legato, molto più lento: o lullaby, sweet lullaby, bring me to sleep, sweet lullaby. Sing away my fears, put aside my tears - please, the Lord and I need to rest a while. O lullaby, bring a dream to me, let me see a dream, and regarding dreams, let me guard my dreams, let me live my dreams, let me, lullaby, dream - oh, what a beautiful melody fills my heart and wraps around me. How in love I was that night! How furious were my body, mind and soul arguing with each other. But, for a moment, playing this trio, life was quiet. My heart was tranquilized. My thoughts were suspended, my soul bathing in joy. And my eyes were drinking it. They came a long way to find themselves a watering hole, and finally, the time was right - no enemies nearby, no traps to catch me - everything was peaceful. And that was no surprise: for who should be standing guard? Indiana was! and may she continue in my dreams: for she was standing in front of me like a figure from the grandest of my dreams, like she were surrounded by fog, and only her own body could escape its grayness. She stood there in the doorway like grace itself, the light from the kitchen granting her man's electrical mandorla.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 3, The Third Day, Part 2, Prayer & The Reformation, Section 13, The Role of Music, Paragraph 6, Clauses 6-19
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.
Ferrari heard a hawk cry. He considered the poor nightingale. What was he doing so far from the riverbank? He smiled. He loved watching his mother's belly dance the tarantella with her breasts. Throwing her down, he penetrated her from his knees. Thrusting as fast as he could, he made her whole body jiggle.
When they were finished, Ferrari's mother grew sad. Tears welled in her eyes. "He wept bitterly," she whispered.
"Tell that to the locals. Weren't you listening to Polina? The desert's been growing for two thousand years. The Communists made it worse. There are sand storms in Beijing now. They say they're building a Green Wall of China. Good luck. It'll take them a hundred years to dig the holes."
"Look at the desert highway," said Shephard. "They lined five hundred kilometers with shrubs. It didn't take them that long."
The woman kicked. She tried to break free. Luka wouldn't let go. He got the fingers back inside. It was so warm. He thought, "Yes." He took the fingers out. He tugged the woman's wimple. He stuffed a bit of it into her mouth. He held it. He yanked on the veil. The crown came tumbling off. He placed the end of the black fabric on the woman's mouth. He wrapped the whole thing around. The other end was still pinned to the crown. The under-veil got into his face.
As proficient as he was, there was something odd about Purse. He almost worked too hard, the way some nutjobs perpetually address the ball even though the hole is only two inches away. "What's the matter," asked Junior. He playfully tickled the bottom of his wingman's clubhead. "Can't you find your shot?" Purse grimaced. Junior realized his palm was sticky. Things turned awkward.
Shephard reached the hole. Dismounting his camel, he climbed in. He felt a draft. It was wonderful. The chamber was dark. Shephard ventured deeper. He stretched his hands. He felt a wall. It was brick. It was cold. Shephard smiled. "It's a building," he said. "It's been buried by sand."
"I can't see anything," said Clark. He was standing in the hole.
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
FLETCHER: It was tough. They didn't have many farming tools. In fact, all they had was a broken shovel. They did have some hammers and some crowbars. They used that to bore a hole through a rock. They put their gunpowder inside and blasted themselves a cistern. They were lucky that the ship's armorer was part of their crew. He could use the ship's bellows and the anvil to make new tools. Unfortunately, soon after they got there, his Tahitian consort fell from a cliff and died - apparently while she was gathering birds' eggs. It didn't take long before he was threatening to leave unless they allowed him to take one of the Tahitian men's wives. Nobody was very happy about that, but he was the blacksmith. They couldn't afford to lose him.
– ACT I, line 612
FLETCHER: 'You don't float around staring off into space? You don't flinch when I reach out my hand? You are a fish. You're a catfish. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you. I'm serious. I want to know what's wrong. Are you sick?'
ALICE: 'No.'
FLETCHER: 'You certainly don't seem healthy. I'm going to Father. Maybe he knows what's wrong with you.'
ALICE: 'Fait, Toc. I fay tay you.'
FLETCHER: Toc is my name, by the way; they're my initials. Father is John Jackson, the last of the mutineers - not our real father. 'Alright: speak.'
ALICE: 'Many year aro when you were ritter, te women try to escape in a poat fur of hor. Te men say tat tey fix it, put tey not fix it. Tey laugh when I catch te crap ant ah te women fa in te vater.'
FLETCHER: 'I know this story. Susannah, you're no stranger to water. Don't tell me you're afraid that I would put holes in my canoe and make you fall in.'
ALICE: 'After tis, ah te women talk apout is kirrin' te men. Ant two of tem try.'
FLETCHER: 'You're not saying that you might actually kill me if I humiliated you?'
ALICE: 'I tey you, Toc. You ask me; I tey you.'
– ACT II, lines 81-90
(ALICE enters.)
ALICE: Excuse me.
FLETCHER: Not at all.
KOKOMO: Not at all.
ALICE: I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm finished.
KOKOMO: Thank you.
FLETCHER: I should try to fix that dishwasher before it floods the whole island. Excuse me.
– ACT I, lines 1358-1363
(MS. JACKSON exits.)
KOKOMO: Oh, bittersweet news! That I might have my mistress's blessing to wed her son - her firstborn and only son: her pride and joy - and make a Catholic out of a Christian, when she knows her line - her ancient English stock - would rest entirely in my womb, fills me with great joy; but since that stock, if Madam's fears be true, is filled with an urge to plant one's seed in every jar and hole - to roam rakishly over the countryside regardless of warmth at home - I must gird myself to the possibility that my loins will not be enough: that fear of the yoke will upset my plan to reveal with success this very night my feelings to my beloved Fletcher!
– ACT II, line 28
(KOKOMO exits.)
GREY GOOSE: Excellent! The day of reckoning has come at last. For too long now, the crimes of my distant past have tarried and o'er me their shadows cast. Restitution's been made, Heavenly King! Grant that my wife be open to forgive a reformed man, who only wants to live in his own home - not like a fugitive on an island full of gossiping cows, who whisper lies, make innuendo, roll their eyes and giggle nonsense, and yet dole out their judgments as if they were a whole judge and jury. Let them bear witness that no woman will run me out of my own home - even if I have to burn it down!
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
A magnum condom lay on the top of the dresser. Fortunately still in its wrapper. The top drawer was ajar. I peeked inside. There was a whole box of magnums waiting for action.
"Do you leave the condoms out for all the girls to see?" I asked sardonically.
"No," said Proctor. "There's more. It seems that John may or may not have had a fling with my wife back in the day. I still haven't talked to her about it. The whole thing is upsetting. I need to be taken off the case. I'm sorry. I need to protect Elizabeth. If there's any chance the killer might go after her." The captain agreed. He granted Proctor some time off.
The beautiful Branca was the first child born to Sir Lima. The first of ten. I'm sure she was and remains his pride and joy. I wouldn't know. I've never met the man. Or Branca. Everything I know about her and her family comes from the boy who lived down the street from them. The boy who grew up to be a priest. A professor. The boy who to this day at the sheer mention of the name Branca leans back his head, inserts hand into shirt and begins violently pumping the fabric as if pistons were about to explode through his chest. I wish he wouldn't do it. If he tears a hole in his shirt I won't buy him a new one. His tastes are too expensive. That's his Hong Kong upbringing. His vow of poverty hasn't done much to squash it.
"At the beginning of midnight mass, Albert jumped on the chair. Everybody stared. They were shocked. Nobody had ever done it. They looked at him like, "What are you doing?" He stared at me. He smiled. He said, 'That woman is the witch." He pointed at me. He said, 'She is the most beautiful witch in the whole world. She has bewitched me.' Albert asked me to marry him - right then and there.
"It's funny." Indiana wagged her finger. "There is another thing we did on St. Luca. The whole village would start to make a chair. One family would make one leg. Another family would make another. It was a way of strengthening the community. Like the apple, we had to do something every day - even if it was only a bit of sanding. We couldn't finish until Christmas. When it was done, we would put the chair inside the church. If somebody was brave enough to step on it, he would be able to see who in the village is the witch.
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 hole 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 "hole." 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.
Your help keeps the "Hole" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting art...is he brainsick?
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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