Michal's HeadlinesFlash Fiction

Michal presents 4Occupy, an online art gallery and culture blog

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Occupy Sandy

New York & New Jersey

from the InterOccupy Hub page
An overlay of Occupy Sandy recovery locations over NOAA's aerial imagery of affected areas
Distribution centers in Brooklyn & Staten Island
Margo behind a tree

Flash Fiction, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Michal keeps making films for women... Is he trying to lose money?Filmy dla Kobiet poster

I want to convince everybody that learning how to listen is worth the effort. Society is not a zero-sum game. If a man takes the time to consider another person's interests as if they were his own, he will be better for it. He will feel better. He will be a stronger and more steady individual and all people will benefit.Pointer

By getting myself to start listening to women, I want to give others a chance to do the same thing.

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.

MCS Blues Band in "Hard Dollar"Pointer

Part 2: Night

The blues band from Hungary playing outside the Vagina Cafe finally attracts an admiring crowd eager for more but night has settled in and it's time for the band to rest.

Help End Negligence With ArtOne of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

Strength and dignity are her clothing...

Proverbs 31:25

Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...Pointer

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.

Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter Margo.

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.

Margo and I spent over 40 days on the road. We started out as basically strangers, but in those 40 days we started listening to each other. We started teaching ourselves how to cooperate. Our journey across Europe may have ended, but our journey towards each other continues. No amount of fear, anger, sadness, disgust or anticipation can stop hope. Slowly but surely, we're learning how to beat the devils that abuse us.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

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Day 15
8/3/2011
 14༛25/24

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La Betulle

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La Cassa, Italy

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THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...Pointer

a collection of modern art prints and posters

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:
Flash Fiction

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 Flash FictionMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "flash fiction."

Video of me pronouncing "flash fiction."

Definition of Flash FictionMargo on a trampoline

Flash Fiction is writing that you don't have to scroll down to read.

References for flash fictionMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Flash Fiction

     

Samples of Fiction from Michal's CorpusMargo on a trampoline

An image of young Michal sitting on a potty in front of a typewriter

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.

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Samples of Fiction from Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind

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 #2432

im in barstow. by the yard. i see the flashing lights. a lot of them. at least the cops are taking us seriously. which never helped before.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

21 August, 1:07 AM

Frame #3792

im in the water by the pier. the drones is flashing lights. that cant be good. and its making some kind of humming noise.

Chase Credit

15 September, 6:34 PM

Frame #1305

its getting pretty dark. i should go back to the car and get a flashlight.

JC Penney

10 August, 8:02 PM

Frame #3261

what a day. there was a guy dealing cards downtown who looked like bieber. i kept seeing flashes of him everywhere.

JC Penney

3 September, 6:17 PM

Frame #1932

rainclouds are coming. its getting dark. theres a warning about flash floods. in the desert. let it flood. let it carry apple away with it.

JC Penney

17 August, 11:51 AM

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Samples of Fiction from The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars

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.

Those days are over. What man keeps his own cow nowadays? Who's going to milk her? Sell her to the dairy farm; let the machines do it. Who's going to sell their own milk and cheese and butter? So many health regulations apply, only the biggest farmer can do it. The Sanitation Department would crush you. That's what they're there for: to protect the public health: to put small farming out of business. Sell your farms! Move to the city! Sleep with rats in your bed instead of your barn. "Don't you realize?" they say. "You can't live off your own land if you're not an agribusinessman! You need to go and be a clerk! File papers! Deal with people! Serve! Don't grow! (Please: we'll give you money not to grow.) Go to the city! Get a job! Manage a firm! Sell cars, rocks - I don't know. We need more cosmetics! More clothes! My shirt is dirty - make me a new one: something flashy, something new. Don't you understand? We don't have enough knick-knacks: go and make some. See if you can sell them! Good luck! We'll see you at the opera! What? You can't make it? What a shame! It's the best! It's culture! That's what we're here for: to make things and watch opera."

Verse 144 from the chapter called Childhood

When the border guard came on board, we were quiet; at least one of us, if not more, was deathly afraid of being caught with pornography - your father had wrapped his in bright, white office paper and had stapled it - but, fortunately, after going all the way to the back with a flashlight, the man said nothing; no bags were checked, and he left the bus with our teacher. We waited. Then, our teacher came back. As politely as possible, she told Jesus to get up, take his bags and leave. Everybody was quiet. Jesus got off the bus in a relatively stoic manner. The kids waited, but he never came back. The bus left, and the trip continued.

Verse 14 from the chapter called Adolescence

Jesus jumped. Like the wolf, he leaped onto the man's chest, embracing his arms, and, leaning his head down into his neck, as if to kiss him, he grabbed a hold of his tender flesh; his teeth squeezed muscle and vein (the sternocleidomastoid to be exact, and the jugular) which Jesus ripped from the man's neck. Blood was everywhere. Flesh hung from your father's teeth. The man dropped in screeching cries of anguish. Jesus leaned over and took the gun. The door to the Accountant's room flew open. Jesus fired. The man who had taken his letters fell down. The light in the Accountant's room went out. Jesus picked up the lamp (the one he had dropped before he leaped). He threw it into the Accountant's room. He turned around and crouched. The doorman appeared from around the corner with a flashlight. Jesus fired. The flashlight fell down. Jesus got up and turned back. The lamp was still lit inside the room. Jesus approached obliquely. Someone's leg was trying to reach the lamp from behind a desk. Jesus put the rifle's butt by his shoulder and shot the leg. Somebody cried. Then, someone shot, but to no avail. There were two people inside that room at least. Jesus slowly crabbed among the tied-up soldiers. There was a man inside: behind the desk, aiming a pistol through the doorway. Jesus smiled: the man couldn't see a goddamn thing. So Jesus shot him in the head. The other man lifted himself up from behind the desk, swinging his arm around and ready to shoot anything. Jesus shot him in the heart. That was it: five men dead: four guards and one Accountant. Jesus carefully checked every corner with the flashlight. That was it. Everybody else must be robbing the bank, Jesus thought. The real terrorists had no idea. Jesus smiled; he chuckled: there was no one else - just him, and a platoon. Perfect.

Verse 277 from the chapter called Arms

Generations upon generations afterward, man's children came forth from darkness by defying their fear of flame. Who first approached that smoldering trunk that the boom-flash had broken? Was it man? or woman? a child? How many times did it have to happen? Were the flames big or were they small? What drove that first man or woman or child? Was it heat? curiousity? fascination with the flame? or, perhaps, rebellion? insubordination? Was he an outcast? Was she a rebel? Was the child just stupid? Only in the afterlife shall we discover when and where and who and how many, how often, what circumstances allowed man to discover that fire was good, that fire was man's best friend. What cannot be denied is that fire became sacred. Only later - much later - did we take it for granted. In those days, it had to be passed down from one caretaker to the next.

Verse 2 from the chapter called Security

With fire also came a new and unprecedented form of torture. Sticks could pierce and rocks crush, but fire burned. This hurt. No longer did man need to restrain his victims for fear of doing them irreversible damage; he simply needed to catch up and shine that beautiful burning torch in their eyes and poke them once or twice - as often as necessary. With fire, the weak could extort from the strong; the one could extort from the many. The threat of fire was great: unlike sticks and stones, the flame spread and hungered. It was necessary to protect it, to hide it from one's enemies - whoever one's enemies were. Information was key. Who had fire and who didn't? Whose fire was still burning and whose had gone out? When was the last boom-flash and when would there be another one? These were very important questions.

Verse 4 from the chapter called Security

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Samples of Fiction from Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed

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.

I thought about the impending party. Naturally, I wondered why I hadn't just gone straight to Nike's house, which, of course, would've been the natural maneuver.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 2, Letting It Steam, Paragraph 2, Clauses 4-6

But he was always telling his stories to other people. Some of them I would hear several times, depending on the company we shared, but never, not once, was I personally privileged with a story. His opinions I would hear, sometimes even his principles; he always shared his feelings, which is something I rarely did and only with great difficulty; on the other hand, he rarely gossiped, but he offered countless anecdotes, often involving other people; none of these, however, were stories, which included all these elements and more besides.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 5, Falling in Love, Paragraph 4, Clauses 4-7

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Samples of Fiction from Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla

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.

He didn't even follow the investigation. He didn't know it was ruled a suicide. He didn't know that the mother, who was all over the papers, was unconvinced. When a staffer came into his office one day, interrupting a very important game of solitaire by shouting, "Hey, Patsy, Liberty Girl's mother is here: take care of it," Patsy said, "Who?"

– from “A Cop Named Patsy,” a funny story featuring a strange serial killer

He thought surely somebody would see him now. The floors below the forty-ninth were all office space. Patsy realized how hard-working the Japanese were. With his last remaining ounce of strength, he whispered, "Take a break." For the first time in his life, perhaps rightfully so, he cursed the Capitalistic virtue of productivity, thinking, "Why couldn't I have gone to France?"

– from “A Cop Named Patsy,” a funny story featuring a dog and a nude beach

They talked differently amongst themselves. Gog's informers told him, "They say, 'Who is he to command us? He killed his entire family. If they had wanted to challenge Sargon, they would have come themselves. They sacrificed each other because they knew it would be hopeless. All they needed was a fool who wouldn't realize it.

"Gog needs to know, if we continue in this manner, we will lose everything. Are we expected to push our herds over every hill until we reach High Harrah? It is madness."

– from “In the Beginning, There was Gog,” a fantasy story set in ancient mesopotamia

"You will find it in yourself," said Tae. "I know that. Out of all of us, you are the strongest. You were tested. We indulged our weaknesses. You alone faced a challenge. In failing, you learned the difficulties of overcoming pressure."

"What about Jutsu," asked Bo, "or his wife, Bei? They are far more deserving than me."

– from “How Tae & Bo Took Over the World and Kung & Fu Didn't,” an apocryphal bible story featuring a bunch of prisoners sent to a planet to fend for themselves

Shephard aimed his gun at the man. He wasn't that close. If Pepsi missed, he would turn around and shoot her. "What about the other one?" he thought. "He could see the rock in the corner of his eye." He switched aim. He second-guessed himself. He switched back. There was no time. Pepsi was swinging her arm. "Damn it," thought Shephard. She threw. Shephard switched aim again. He fired. His target fell. The officer turned. Shephard aimed at him. He ran out of sight. Somebody else fired. It was Pepsi's guard. Shephard looked. Pepsi had not only missed, she had fallen into the yard. The guard was running towards her. Shephard aimed. He fired. He shot him.

– from “Two Dudes and a Chinese Desert,” a friendship story featuring foreign espionage

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Samples of Fiction from Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall

A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.

(KOKOMO exits. GREY GOOSE enters.)

GREY GOOSE: My darling Polynesian beauty, Fletcher must be right. It's pointless for me to put the moves on you - especially since it's obvious you're in love with him. My chances of success were always slim. I never lost faith in a woman's whim. I was certain, if I tried hard enough, you would let me taste-test your sweeter stuff. Each one of my advances you rebuffed. You're too good. My situation has changed now that my dear wife and I are estranged. Perhaps some trickery can be arranged. If I were to slip softly into your bed, not smelling like chattel, but like that perfume you gave my son - that little brat - who cares more about annoying my wife than pursuing the love of his own life, even though I'm the one she causes strife - perchance I might convince you with a kiss - before you discover my artifice - that I am the best way to earthly bliss. It would give me joy. My desire to light this house on fire would be assuaged. Despite what I have said, I will never ignite another house again. I am reborn. Ever since your mistress unleashed her scorn, making me sit in filth, lost and forlorn, in my old cowshed, I have taken stock. I'll no longer blindly follow the flock. I cannot yet say the same for my cock. If my wife's got a lover, I'll be damned if I don't. I'm not going to be crammed away. I'll come back with my monogrammed pajamas. I'll drink champagne and cut loose like there's no tomorrow. I'll introduce Kokomo to my little one-eyed goose and she'll say I'm her daddy. My excitement notwithstanding, I must not invite suspicion. I'll save my strength for tonight!

– ACT II, line 30

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: How do you manage?

KOKOMO: With gourmet coffee, with freshly baked strudel, and with sweets: when they put you in charge of the kitchen, the world is yours.

ALICE: Don't they look at the bill?

KOKOMO: Deciphering a budget one no longer handles is more difficult than knowing the composition of a meal one has never cooked. If you can make trevally taste like wahoo, you can make dimes turn into dollars.

ALICE: Are you saying we had trevally for lunch?

KOKOMO: Everybody thought it was wahoo.

ALICE: I wish I could cook meals. I'm not very domestic.

KOKOMO: I had to learn the hard way. My mother was sick for a long time.

ALICE: I'm sorry to hear that.

KOKOMO: She's better now.

– ACT I, lines 820-829

GREY GOOSE: I've waited long enough, woman. I deserve an answer.

MS. JACKSON: I will not answer you.

ALICE: Why not?

GREY GOOSE: She's guilty.

MS. JACKSON: I've done nothing wrong.

GREY GOOSE: Swear to it.

ALICE: There's no reason not to tell the truth.

GREY GOOSE: Unless you're a rat.

ALICE: Remember what I told you. There are three things which everybody is owed: honesty, gratitude, and remorse. As my grandmother taught me, one must say, 'Thank you,' and 'I'm sorry,' and, by gosh, one has to mean it. If you've had cause to hurt somebody, you should tell that person you're sorry and you'll try to make sure it never happens again. Unless you know it will - in which case, you recognize that something is difficult. If it's something to which your partner is contributing, you make a resolution to cooperate on that. Eventually, things work out. If you've done nothing wrong, you thank your partner for his interest, humbly deny any involvement, and proceed to send him off on his merry way. I took marriage lessons with Luke for a year. They were quite helpful.

MS. JACKSON: Thank you.

– ACT I, lines 1101-1110

FLETCHER: (placing the towel on the table) I would rather you get the towel dirty than your clothes.

ALICE: Is that the reason?

FLETCHER: Have you thought of a better one?

ALICE: Not quite.

FLETCHER: I'm trying to ensure the efficacy of this massage.

ALICE: If you insist.

FLETCHER: Not so fast: do it slowly.

ALICE: Don't tease me. Turn around.

FLETCHER: Must I?

ALICE: You do.

– ACT I, lines 556-565

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Samples of Fiction from Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats

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 gruff voice asked, "Can I help you?" There was a moment of silence.

Orbitz spoke. "I'm here for it," he said. More silence. The shuffling of feet.

The gruff voice asked, "What?"

"You're the shopkeeper, aren't you," said Orbitz. "I hear you have an assistant."

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance written out of respect for Stanislaw Lem, if you know who that is

The wedding was postponed. Steve O got a chance to look deep into his heart. He explored his feelings. Adam helped Steve O realize that enjoying a finger up the bum had nothing to do with being gay. If Steve O had romantic feelings for Adam, as Adam might still have for Steve O, there were ways in which they could develop those feelings in a non-sexually threatening way.

– from “A Finger Up The Bum,” a gay fiction story that shouldn't cause a fuss, but what you make of it is up to you

On the third date, although Steve O didn't like to call it that, he made a point of asking about Adam's house. Adam told him it was being fumigated. On the fourth date there was a gas leak. Steve O began to suspect that either Adam was hiding a homeless man in his house or he was in fact homeless.

Steve O learned the truth on the fifth date. Adam brought Steve O home. He introduced him to his fiance. He was marrying a man. The invitations had been sent out. Months ago.

– from “A Finger Up The Bum,” a gay fiction story that nobody should think twice about, but what you make of it is up to you

Love is the answer...

What are we waiting for? Let's accept it!

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

Still Life, Patriarchy

Contemporary wall art to remind us that Father always says Father knows best

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.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Help keep the "Flash Fiction" page up and running...

If you love women and art...

Michal's exporting Polish art...is he touched?

Michal's Sales Pitch
Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts

  1. T-shirt fundraiser for sale

    Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser for sale.

    Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed. Pointer

    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.

  2. Felt handbag for sale

    Handcrafted felt handbag for sale.

    Felt bag by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  3. Decorative collar for sale

    Handcrafted decorative collar for sale.

    Decorative collar by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  4. Seamless handbag for sale

    Handcrafted seamless handbag for sale.

    Handbag by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  5. Patchwork quilt for sale

    Handcrafted patchwork quilt for sale.

    Patchwork quilt by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  6. Nuno-felt shawl for sale

    Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl for sale.

    Shawl by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  7. Clara the doll for sale

    Handcrafted clara the doll for sale.

    Clara by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  8. Noah the doll for sale

    Handcrafted noah the doll for sale.

    Noah by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  9. Black suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted black suspenders for sale.

    Black suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  10. Orange suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted orange suspenders for sale.

    Orange suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  11. Green suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted green suspenders for sale.

    Green suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  12. Felt earrings for sale

    Handcrafted felt earrings for sale.

    Felt earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  13. Round ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted round ceramic earrings for sale.

    Round ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  14. Oblong ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings for sale.

    Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  15. 'Coral' necklace for sale

    Handcrafted 'coral' necklace for sale.

    Corals by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser
Handcrafted felt handbag
Handcrafted decorative collar
Handcrafted seamless handbag
Handcrafted patchwork quilt
Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl
Handcrafted clara the doll
Handcrafted noah the doll
Handcrafted black suspenders
Handcrafted orange suspenders
Handcrafted green suspenders
Handcrafted felt earrings
Handcrafted round ceramic earrings
Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings
Handcrafted 'coral' necklace