Michal's films are meant to help women... What does that mean?
Posted:
A businessman prides himself on being able to move something from one point to another in the fastest and most economical way possible. It doesn't necessarily pay to look pretty doing it. An artist's function is to express a beautiful idea. It doesn't come fast or cheap. Its value lies in its completeness. It takes time and sacrifice. It must be considered. I consider a woman to be a beautiful idea. That's why I keep teaching myself to listen to women, no matter what the cost.
Having learned to consider a woman's needs as if they were my own - no matter how ridiculous - I've given myself a chance to grow. I want to give that chance to others.
I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.
Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.
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...
My plane touched down in Poland on June 20th. A month later I was in Austria. Two days later, Slovenia. The next day, Croatia. A week later, Italy. The next day, Switzerland. The next day, France. The next day, Germany. The next day, Belgium. The next day, Holland. All with a woman I had met my first weekend on the Continent.
Call it an accident. Call it divine will. I was never supposed to meet Margo...if not for one man's random criminal act...another abuse piled upon humanity by a fellow human. A robbery. A purse-snatching of a purse that happened to contain a passport. An assault on the human body. One of society's bad habits that I had come to fight as an artist working for body acceptance.
I 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.
There were times during our trip when I thought there might not be a happy ending. There were times when disaster was close and I wondered whether I hadn't made a mistake. I wondered whether fear, anger or sadness might triumph and one of us would have to finished the journey alone. Though I dangled from the cliffs of Normady I was saved. Though the lights went out I rode on. Though I ran the tires down to the wire I was okay. We drove home in one piece. We came home happy. We had started the process of learning how to listen and the sound of it was beautiful. We could be sure that we were ready to conquer the devils that abuse us no matter how long it would take.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Fiction Writers
I fondly remember the Scholastic Book Club catalogs I got in elementary school when I was a kid. I was always looking forward to getting them. It was fun to read all the descriptions and figure out what types of literature interested me the most, although it was particularly upsetting if a world literature anthology I liked was too expensive to even think about buying. I had to make informed decisions. Otherwise it meant a trip to the library and the hope that somebody else wouldn't have checked out any of my books-to-read.
There was one book that was always at the library but that I never had the courage to check out. It wasn't science fiction. It was a book about sex. I was afraid to hold it. Opening it made my heart race. I was afraid to be seen standing in the aisle. I had to switch aisles. I was a long way from the children's section but this was the one place in my world where I could see what a naked girl my age looked like. In the photograph she was standing in a line of girls and women, each progressively taller, older, rounder, fuller. If I had been able to at the time, I would've given this book a nobel prize just for this photograph. I wanted to know what girls were hiding and this was the one book that had the courage to show me the truth. Just having the chance to see the truth was satisfying, not to mention the fact that I was fascinated by the changes represented in those bodies. That I had to hide myself in a corner of a public library in Lincoln, Nebraska in order to see this truth opened up many questions for me.
The last time I was in a library I saw a grown man sitting in front of a computer unashamedly clicking through pictures of large breasts in bikinis on Facebook. If this man were able to do it, I'm sure he would give Facebook a nobel prize for providing this type of literature. He and I are products of a culture that fetishizes the human body. All primitive cultures fetishize something. They give it a specific charge, either positive or negative. It's the "why" that drives a community. Cowboys drive a herd of cattle by negatively fetishizing the land on either side. Men are driven the same way. For us to build a truly free society, one marked not just by sophisticated technology but also by a sophisticated culture, we will have to destroy the fetishes that drive us.
It doesn't matter what types of literature you like. Whether you like reading science-fiction or sampling world literature of an adult nature, just keep in mind that your choice is a little nobel prize of its own. Your choice dictates what kind of writing takes place. If you want humanity to live like cattle, do nothing. If you want to be a cowboy like me, see the fetish for what it is. Destroy its power.
Pronunciation of Fiction Writers
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "fiction writers."
Video of me pronouncing "fiction writers."
Definition of Fiction Writers
Fiction Writers are artists working in the medium of non-factual or semi-factual narrative composition.
References for fiction writers
I have yet to find good references for Fiction Writers
Samples of Fiction from Michal's 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.
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 #345
one lousy bar fight and what happens. i lose my badge. i lose my license to carry. im forced to write the story of my life in tiny messages.
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.
As prosaic as Jesus's suggestions were, Zoe had to admit: they were the simplest and the best - foolproof. As for her own, they were conjugally inspired. Zoe's plan for keeping the Krupnik occupied was to write her would-be wedding vows in Polish and to have her would-be father-in-law proofread them. "That'll keep him occupied for hours!"
"I am not a hangman," I said. "I will not be carrying out my own sentence. I am not a judge. I am a servant of the highest court, the one in which the Nation, not the State, must bring the charge, and He who sits in judgment has made me His bailiff. His writ of summons will be delivered and executed only if I can do so with a clear conscience, otherwise it is not meant to be, cousin. Do you understand? I am not on my own side. I am on God's side."
"Was it God who commanded you to tempt Panzer-Tank?"
Next to the Xerox, in the margin, Yoga Balls had written: this is the true copy of the original certificate of citizenship - stamped and signed by Yoga Balls, notary public.
The order's Rule was modeled after the Benedictine and was cowritten by Jesus and the Pope, who took a very serious personal interest. The Cosmonauts were divided into four classes: two ranks of combatants - knights and sergeants, who were necessarily members of the Brigade - and two ranks of non-combatants - chaplains, who were consecrated priests, and servants, who were either tenants in charge of management or nurses in charge of health care. Requirements for admission to these ranks were stipulated by the Rule, and, though initially the Pope was allowed to choose, albeit it with Jesus's approval, the number and identity of the chaplains, afterwards, on Mars, only the Grand Master would need decide. Jesus was allowed to choose his own servants and sergeants but candidates for the knighthood would have to be approved by the chaplains. Vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience only had to be permanent for chaplains and knights. Everyone else could take temporary vows if he or she so desired. The vow of chastity, as it pertained to non-clerics, did not include celibacy but allowed for marriage within the order.
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.
Oh, but that's all so confusing. Why am I wasting my time writing about it? Oh, that's right: I'm avoiding the subject. I really don't want to tell you about this dream. But I know I must.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 1, Our Constitution & Constitutional Reform, Section 1, Losing Oneself, Paragraph 6
We shall have to keep discussing this later. I do not think I can write any more: I am almost unconscious. Besides, I think I've written enough. It's been a week since I began my daily journal - that is plenty.
Tomorrow morning, I'll send you my work. I hope you'll enjoy it. But, of course, by the time you read this, it will no longer be tomorrow morning. So I rephrase: I hope you have enjoyed my work.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 7, The Seventh Day, Part 1, Strength & Security Sector Reform, Section 2, Facing a Choice, Paragraphs 23-24
My dear sister: I had a terrible dream last night. It started early - right after I finished writing to you - when I began tossing and turning - and lasted all through the night. The dream was a protracted one; many things took place but these things took longer than necessary. And I was aware of time being distorted. I saw how things - which otherwise take place in quick succession - were being strung together separately - like photographs developing - one by one dangling from the twine of unconsciousness - as if the events themselves were brief - captured in a single moment - but time itself was stretching and stretching till morning broke. And despite the light caressing my face, I awoke unhappily, knowing that I should not have gone to bed so feverish: that whole day yesterday was spent remembering those tantalizing things, those quietly torturous things you just read. I was reliving them, and if they weren't bad enough the first time, I was doing so by a dying man's bedside.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 1, Visiting London, Paragraph 1
ANDY: Hard Rock Mead?
NIKE: Look: I'm serious here. Take Greek restaurants, for example: I'll sell them Ancient Greek Hydromel. I'll put ancient Greek writing on the bottle - they'll go crazy for it.
ANDY: Planet Hollymead?
NIKE: Alright: it's obvious: you're unwilling to appreciate my genius.
Abandoning the frame to its former position, I knelt down and picked up the two photographs. One was a picture of a dog in a fantastic costume. I guessed it was a poodle dancing on its hind legs. There was nothing written on the back.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 8, Financial Instruments, 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.
Junior tried to get serious. He started dating an unmarried thirty-year-old black professional. He had to keep it a secret. His mother would not have approved. He might have been written out of the will like his older brother. He had married a Catholic.
The handmaidens filed out of the tent in silence. Fear was written on their faces. The guards asked the last one about Magog. She said the queen consort wanted time alone with the goddess. She was not to be disturbed. Nobody saw the heifer escaping through the back. In the darkness, it was hard to see. Its hide had been scorched black.
"Are you sure you have to go?" asked Neal. "It gets lonely like this." Tatum apologized. She turned away. She tried not to walk too fast. It was too late, she thought. Neal knew something was up. He was part of it. He could have written the note. Tatum asked herself, Why? What was the meaning of this ridiculous game?
Tatum went back to her apartment with a vicarious feeling of accomplishment. She decided the assignment wouldn't be so bad after all. Monkey Ball would get her writing again. Reaching her door, Tatum swiped her keycard. The lock beeped. The light turned green. Tatum pushed the door open.
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.
LUKE: What's the difference between the two?
MS. JACKSON: Bounty families are descendant from the original Bounty mutineers, who settled on Pitcairn Island-
FLETCHER: With their Tahitian consorts. I'm sorry. I meant their Tahitian wives. And their Tahitian slaves. I mean, their male Tahitian friends.
MS. JACKSON: The Pitcairner families are descendant-
FLETCHER: From three adventurers - to be more precise, from two ack-willy whalers and a soldier-of-fortune.
LUKE: That's a ridgy-didge pedigree. Too right!
FLETCHER: It gets better. Being a direct descendant of my namesake, Fletcher Christian, the illustrious chief of the mutiny on the Bounty, I am therefore descendant from the ancient rulers of the Isle of Man.
LUKE: A reg'lar Pommy!
FLETCHER: My father's mother was a Quintal. That means half of him is descendant from a drunken scoundrel who set his ship on fire, drove his wife to suicide, and threatened to kill the entire island population. That's not the side of the story we like to tell. We prefer the story of how John Jackson turned to Christianity and taught his children to read and write. Jackson, I'll have you know, was a Christian before he became a Jackson. He changed his name the moment the British rediscovered the island. My mother admires his cowardice so much, she did the same thing.
– ACT I, lines 93-101
FLETCHER: You thought Norfolk had a checkered past. Being a former prison colony's prison colony is nothing next to Pitcairn.
ALICE: I would never have imagined it was like that. I thought it was a paradise.
FLETCHER: I'm writing a play about it - specifically about the woman who chopped off that man's head. She's an ancestor of mine. Maybe later we can go over a few scenes.
ALICE: I'd love to.
FLETCHER: If your neck doesn't still hurt.
ALICE: I'm feeling much better now, thank you.
FLETCHER: If you strained it, you strained it. I have to say, you have surprisingly little tension.
ALICE: It's my honeymoon. I've been having lots of sex.
FLETCHER: You shouldn't have reminded me.
ALICE: Why not?
– ACT I, lines 626-635
ALICE: I thought I was your wife.
FLETCHER: As long as I'm playing Thursday October.
ALICE: I have a son.
FLETCHER: That's Quintal's boy. We end up having seven children of our own. You were thirty at the time. I was fifteen.
ALICE: I see. This is how you imagine the two of them getting together. Did you just write this?
FLETCHER: I've been adding to it recently.
ALICE: Since I arrived?
FLETCHER: Since about five minutes ago.
ALICE: You have us kissing.
FLETCHER: Uh-huh.
– ACT II, lines 40-49
ALICE: Repeatedly.
FLETCHER: Yes.
ALICE: Why is that?
FLETCHER: Why not?
ALICE: Don't you think that's excessive?
FLETCHER: We don't have to do it if you don't want to do it. It's only pretend.
ALICE: You might as well have written in a sex scene.
FLETCHER: That's not a bad idea.
ALICE: I'm not going to support your work if this is your way of having your work support you.
FLETCHER: Perfect. Keep that tone of voice. We're both confused by this strange courtship. 'Susannah' - that's your English name - 'why do you fear my boat?'
– ACT II, lines 50-59
FLETCHER: Or whether I knew where to get some. I became so curious as to its inspirational qualities I had to try it out for myself.
ALICE: Did you like it?
FLETCHER: I loved it. I was full of incredible ideas. Unfortunately, afterwards I couldn't remember a single one.
ALICE: You didn't write them down?
FLETCHER: I was in no mood to write things down - not with any amount of clarity.
ALICE: You must have had some great revelations.
FLETCHER: That it wasn't worth my while: a point later made very clear to me by the axe which Kokomo was wielding.
ALICE: The mysterious axe-woman was Kokomo.
FLETCHER: She found my stash. It upset her.
ALICE: I couldn't imagine lifting an axe, let alone threatening you with one.
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 ship exploded. As Orbitz hurtled towards the tesseract he realized why he was doomed. The radiation from the explosion was travelling with him. It would accompany him all the way back in time. The small amount that had sterilized Heather Mills would be enough over the course of the journey to kill him. He also realized how he had lost Sara Lee. In his moment of gloating behind Heather Mills's back he had given her a chance to read his mind. She knew she was sterilized. She knew infecting Sara Lee would be futile. She did it anyway out of spite. She did everything she could to alienate her. It was justice. Orbitz had robbed Heather Mills of her only love. She would make him pay the same price.
After days of detention the shopkeeper started to panic. He claimed he had a pet. He said if the pet was left unfed he would never forgive the government. He demanded to be released. The Astrazeneca did not dispute his claims. The Amazon wondered what and where the pet could be. It was not at any of the shopkeeper's registered domiciles. The man stubbornly refused to say where it was despite his apparant alarm. The Amazon realized he had the answer. The pet was not a dumb animal. The shopkeeper was not afraid for its well-being. He was afraid for himself. The creature was capable of revenge. It was sentient. It was strong enough to free itself yet weak enough to be imprisoned. It was a telepath.
The Amazon called his team. One half was still following Orbitz on the cruise ship. The other half was in front of the shop. He ordered them into the neon building. They walked up to the second floor. The team leader paused. He could hear something in the room ahead. It sounded like a man rapping his fingers on a desk. He pushed open the door. There was no desk. There was no man. There was clutter everywhere. Strange objects of art and furniture stacked on top of each other loomed from every corner. The rapping continued. It was slower now. It was more cautious. The men squeezed into the room. All of them were transfixed by the sound. It was coming from behind a low curtain. The curtain was draped over what seemed like a crate. Or a cage. The men crowded in front of it. The leader reached out his hand. He grabbed a corner of the curtain. He lifted it.
Inside the cage stood a pretty little girl with the legs of a giant spider. From behind those legs a hairy abdomen suddenly poked down. It spewed a thin secretion across the faces of the men. They cried out and dropped to the floor. They started writhing in pain. Their movements jerked more and more until their limbs finally locked in a rigid posture. They heard helplessly the sound of a man calmly climbing up the stairs. It was Orbitz. The men recognized him. Unable to express their shock their eyes blazed with confusion and fury. Orbitz knelt among them. "I'm sorry," he said. "The creature poisoned you with a paralytic. At this dosage it's fatal. I didn't want any of you to die. It wasn't up to me. She didn't want to take any chances with her freedom. I wish I could stay with you until the end. Unfortuately the creature has a short refractory period. I have to surgically remove her gland before she's capable of killing me."
Any investigation into Captain Orbitz's activites and allegiances would have to be handled delicately. To most of the people privy to the situation it seemed a foregone conclusion that the Wiki-ens were engaged in disinformation. They were trying to discredit Captain Orbitz in the eyes of the military while simultaneously drawing on his fame to promote their own cause. There was only one question. How did they get the DNA? The Admiral in charge of the courier service was tasked with the odius mission of trying to find a leak in his own department. It went nowhere. The higher-ups assigned a Amazon to the case. Philyrans are notorious for their pig-headedness. He insisted on interrogating Orbitz.
To promote democracy, the strong must empty themselves of their strength. The weak must be granted the opportunity to grow strong. We cannot force the end of patriarchy. To do so simply perpetuates feudalism under a different name.
Help keep the "Fiction Writers" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's importing Polish art...is he bats?
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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