Michal makes films in the name of helping women... Does he expect gratitude?
Posted:
When I first walked into the Vagina Cafe, I was pleased that somebody had taken the time and the risk to put the principle of female empowerment ahead of everything else. I want to honor that. I want to support it and to help it spread by helping others learn how to listen.
Through hard work and perseverance, I've learned to start listening to women. I'd be proud to give everyone a chance to make that lesson stick for them.
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.
If the clip has trouble playing please try a version with a lower resolution.
Queen Kong
Part 1: Protest, meaning Strange Women
A group of right-wing Polish Nationalist sympathizers assembles on the square near the Vagina Cafe and begins to protest the existence of feminists in the country, claiming among other things that feminists are Nazis.
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.
Though as an artist I had been working on body acceptance since the start of my career, and as a one-time practicing figure model was used to being nude in a social setting, I had been left largely unexposed to the community of naturists and nudists working towards the same goal of promoting the human being. Visiting nude beaches and resorts along the East Coast and participating in events organized around New York by Young Naturists America, I was left hungry for more and had come to Europe to see things from their side of the pond. Margo was my introduction.
I was from America, land of the free...home of the brave. She carried the weight of Old Europe...domestic and religious poverties...stifled creativity. Anger. Sadness. Yearning.
Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned 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: Fiction Writing
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 Writing
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "fiction writing."
Video of me pronouncing "fiction writing."
Definition of Fiction Writing
Fiction Writing is the art of composing a non-factual or semi-factual narrative.
References for fiction writing
I have yet to find good references for Fiction Writing
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 #3586
i remember when kim kris's girls were writing bad checks. i asked her to put a stop to it. and she did. we had something. more than respect.
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.
"This is what you're going to do," said the Krupnik. "You're going to take a letter to the Accountant. This letter, written and signed by me - and signed by you," he said, pointing to the Nigel - "is going to say that he needs to redivide the shares. You're going to be paid in hard currency and unregistered bearer bonds."
We were taken to the second floor. In the foyer, I happened to notice a clock that was hanging on the wall. It said, at the very bottom, in cursive writing: 'High-Class Quartz Clock.' Decorated with fabric flowers and machine-pressed forms made of a kind of copper alloy, it was, at best, a dubious claim. The hands didn't even move; either a new battery was needed, or the clock simply didn't work. He must've taken it from the trash, I thought. I imagined him doing it.
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.
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.
Instead, you should considering writing something for me, instead of writing things for God knows whom, as I am your most eager audience. I have need. Never in my life have I felt quite so dangerously lonely. There is no one else in this house except for the television, and we are not on speaking terms; but out of desperation I may soon have to make concessions. A few months ago, I would've cringed at the thought of watching television. When I accepted Barbara's invitation, I was in a mood of perfect concentration. Through no fault of her own, I suspect that my excursion may have thrown my loneliness into such relief, making it so apparent, that what was once comfortable and conducive to work has now become almost unbearable.
Nike had to explain to Luka that I was not like other people, that I had no idea what they understood by the term 'work,' that I was not really a piano teacher - at least, not in the professional sense - but that I was, in fact, a writer pretending to be 'working' on a novel, which really meant that I was only "staring at the wall" or "consuming massive amounts of jellybeans, shitting coffee in every color of the rainbow," et cetera, et cetera, but certainly not doing work in the common sense of the term. According to Nike, the most I was doing was sharpening pencils. I thanked him for the explanation. "But really," I said, "is there anything you want to see in particular?"
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 3, Comparing Men, Paragraph 2
Oh my dear sister: if you are reading this, you already know under what circumstances this document must be written. I know that I will have called you, and you will most certainly have asked me what I've been doing, and I will undoubtedly have told you by the time you receive this letter that Albert is dying - but I have not yet told you, though I feel as if I were talking to you right now, and I must explain everything to you as if you were this paper, as if it were part of your body, the excess of your skin, temporarily grafted onto this cheap writing surface so that my pen, the natural extension of my steady hand, could make its furtive inscriptions, gently massaging your senses, while I prepare to hurt you, to harm your gentle skin, to break your heart by incising the horrible truth of my situation.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 2
Oh, but who am I kidding? It's obvious that there are still so many feelings left - contradictory and unpredictable. And I'm supposed to be telling you what happened at Nike's party. That is the reason for my writing this letter. And I am aware, as my shuddering body reminds me, that in order for you to understand what happened, I must relate to you what has been happening, or rather what has not been happening between myself and Macy, a relationship which must seem entirely innocent to you, as I have ever so rarely discussed it. And I do apologize profusely for that, but there was never a moment when I was not so entirely confused that I could possibly broach the subject with any hope of clarity. Ah, but I'm already making excuses.
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.
Neal chuckled. "The harder they come, the easier they fall. We've already made you a fan."
"I wouldn't bet on it."
Neal sidled up against her. "I'll tell you what: for every game you don't attend, I'll read one of your books."
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.
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.
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.
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: There was a girl who tried to kill me. She came after me with an axe. It reminded me of Susannah's story.
ALICE: What made you want to write a play about it?
FLETCHER: Mull.
ALICE: I'm sorry?
FLETCHER: Isn't that what you Australians like to call it?
ALICE: I guess.
FLETCHER: It's the modern artist's drug of choice.
ALICE: Even here on Norfolk?
FLETCHER: There was a time when every other artistically-inclined tourist I met asked me about it.
ALICE: Whether you had any?
– ACT II, lines 101-110
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
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
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.
– ACT II, lines 111-120
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.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
At the airlock Orbitz Número Dos shook hands with himself. He wished himself good luck. Orbitz Nombre Trois squeezed his hand and leaned in. He whispered, "It's surprising how easy it is to sacrifice everything." He pulled the hood of his skin suit over his head. He affixed his breathing apparatus. He took the body into the airlock.
Orbitz Número Dos stared as the outer doors of the airlock opened. He didn't know what to think. He watched himself leap into space with his own dead body hanging at his waist. It didn't make sense.
Sara Lee said no. Again the Astrazeneca disagreed. The Amazon was at a loss to explain it. He was summoned himself to a board of inquiry. It was attended by two more Astrazeneca. Much to the Amazon's relief they never hesitated in confirming his veracity. He honestly had no idea what happened. It was the fault of the Astrazeneca, he said. They had to be investigated.
"Heather Mills," said Orbitz. He kissed Sara Lee one last time. "You have to go," he said. He helped Sara Lee back into her skin suit. Before he put in her breathing apparatus he bowed his head and let her kiss him on the crown. It was a blessing. Orbitz watched the young woman sputter her way to the Nautilus. Of all the adventures they had ever had Orbitz loved these moments at Earth most of all. They had love and peace.
"Wait a minute," said Orbitz Número Dos. He took a cotton swab from the bowl next to the sink. He knelt by the body and passed the swab over the skin inside and outside the cheeks. "Take this to the lab and analyse it," he said. He handed the swab to Orbitz Number One. "Go," he said. "Now."
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.
St. Sebastian was a member of the Roman Emperor's praetorian guard who had the audacity to teach Christian values while on the job. I think active duty American military men and women who don't vote or who don't publicly express a political opinion because of the uniform are either being idiotic or are being cowed by the threat of punishment from a superior. Either way, they're eunuchs. My purpose in creating the St. Sebastian Series is to put the flesh and face of the true soldier front and center. The good soldier puts his mission ahead of himself. He often ends up dead. The true soldier knows a bad mission when he sees one and he isn't afraid to say it. Saint Sebastian was not a cow, despite what clever people would have you believe. Saint Sebastian is a patron saint for all protestors who face the arrows of the mob for speaking out.
Help me keep the "Fiction Writing" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing Polish art...is he daft?
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:
