Michal's HeadlinesFictional Short Stories

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Sauna Cezar

Bielsko-Biala, Poland

Photographs by Michal Slaby
A map showing Bielsko-Biala's position within Silesia
Bielsko-Biała lies in the corner of Silesia
Margo behind a tree

Fictional Short Stories, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Michal enjoys making films for women... Is he some kind of...you know... ?Filmy dla Kobiet poster

I'm the kind of guy who for the most part will urinate standing up. That's not to say that I don't enjoy a good sit-down once in a while when I'm peeing. I do think I'm in touch with my feminine side. Regardless of that, I think that female empowerment is good for men. Out of my own self-interest, I started learning how to listen.Pointer

Through discipline, I've learned to start listening to women. I'd like to give others a chance to gain from that discipline too.

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.

Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern PolandPointer

Chapter 36: "Write Letter!"

Janina relates how the Austrians kept up their contact with her husband and the kindness they showed during the economic deprivations experienced by the country while under the threat of martial law and their cooperation in qualifying him for a pension from their respective governments which he would receive until his passing at the turn of the century.

Help End Rankism 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

On the second to last weekend of June, 2011, I had joined my fellow naturists at a gathering of the Naturist Society in rural Pennsylvania. The next day I left on a flight for Europe. By the end of the week I had unexpectedly met another naturist, a woman, who was destined to accompany me on a tour of Europe's great naturist resorts.

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 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.

I've never gone hungry without deserving it. I've never been systemically beaten by a parent. I've never been fondled by a priest. That doesn't mean I can't listen to somebody who has had to experience such abuse and it doesn't mean I can't try to understand. Margo and I traveled 6,000 miles together. We slept in the same tent. We had to listen to each other. A person shouldn't need 6,000 miles to do it. We should be able to listen to each other just because we want to. We should've been taught to do it. If we haven't been taught, we should be learning how to do it and learning fast.

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

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

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Day 12
7/31/2011
 11༛25/24

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Camping Trenta

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Trenta, Slovenia

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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:
Fictional Short Stories

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 Fictional Short StoriesMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "fictional short stories."

Video of me pronouncing "fictional short stories."

Definition of Fictional Short StoriesMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish the definition of Fictional Short Stories.

I'm sure it won't take too long.

References for fictional short storiesMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Fictional Short Stories

     

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.

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

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 #5474

the island has all kinds of doctors. specialists in every field. but no equipment. and judging from my tablet. a shortage of medicine.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

23 November, 10:15 AM

Frame #3385

the only basis for chase's theory is a stolen cooler. and a pair of shorts gone from a clothesline. cause mcdonalds's the only hobo around.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

5 September, 9:55 AM

Frame #32

i will now shorten hey you guys to just hey.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

26 July, 10:52 AM

Frame #6293

the evidence for resonance effect is the fact that the walls of the caldera formed by the collapse get shorter the farther north you go.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

23 December, 10:08 AM

Frame #659

harley did drop a hint. i wonder if she meant to. she said she wants a job at the hawaiian gardens casino. shes looking for a shorter commute.

Justin Bieber

2 August, 7:41 PM

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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.

She was there and radiant. She was in Group Fifteen, holding onto the thick, gray-colored electromechanical transducer wire that stretched from the priest in front to the loudspeaker being carried behind. She was supposed to be in Group Twenty-five - silly girl: what a silly girl she was! What a huge forehead - and no chin! What a beautiful silly girl: those Japanese eyes! those huge lips! that short, straight, and yet, upturned nose. That mouth of hers was hanging open. How funny it was that she couldn't close her mouth! How absurd - and yet, so valuable! So endearing! and yet, so trivial. It made her look almost innocent. Like the guilty fool, she was difficult to judge. Was she beautiful or not? Was she beautiful when she smiled? Yes, she was beautiful. Was that huge mouth of hers beautiful? Yes, it was beautiful. Was she beautiful when she puckered her tiny, little chin by crooking her humongous jaw? Well, kind of: her little chin was beautiful (it complemented, among other things, her huge forehead) but sometimes she made her chin look sort of strange, as if she were trying to make herself look ugly or else to communicate something - perhaps, befuddlement. It was very unclear - unlike her eyes, which communicated things with unabashed honesty - like curiosity, for example - or, more appropriately, the beginnings of rapture, which, in this case, made themselves evident in the wideness of her eyes, in their feigned concentration on the dirt road underneath her feet, and, especially, in the way they pushed her black pupils and brown irides into the beautiful almond-shaped corners of her lids, following that mysterious image, that masked rider, your father, dressed in black body armor, who kept watching her pass him along the side of the road as he stood waiting in the fallow field, galloping forward every time she turned back her head.

Verse 266 from the chapter called Security

My neighbor's son was a short man with a monkey-like face. That night, he scrunched it. He wasn't quite sure what to do. The knife slicing the lemon was confusing.

Verse 321 from the chapter called Adolescence

"Let's go!" she yelled - and she hopped over Jesus's feet, running down the trail dangerously close to its edge. The ridge was short, Jesus thought to himself, but a fall would still be painful. Nevertheless, he said nothing. He didn't even move. He watched calmly as Zoe's right foot fell onto a sandy patch along the ridge's edge, which broke away instantly, making her whole body fall both down and to the right, her right hand flailing helplessly until her left hand touched ground, which, only then, began to ease her sudden descent. Her left leg having collapsed, her left elbow also touched ground, then her head, until, finally, her right shoulder was level with the ground, her left knee was pointing at her face, her head was buried in the sand, and her right leg was dangling down the precipice. Jesus laughed. Meanwhile, your mother, finding some kind of ground underneath her right foot, was able to extract herself from this rather awkward position by lifting herself up ever so slightly and removing her squashed left leg from underneath her torso and placing it next to her right. By digging into the side of the precipice, your mother gained enough support to lift her head from out of the sand and say, "Thank you."

Verse 471 from the chapter called Security

Forgive me, child, when I say that I found her, at first, only somewhat attractive. Her forehead was huge; her chin, nonexistent. Only later did I fully realize how well the two complemented each other - it required a sophisticated taste, one which I did not yet possess - but, nevertheless, even the most sophisticated taste would have required some sort of refinement to accept her beauty for what it was: complex and unrepentant. Unearthly was the best word. She was half-Japanese and half-Martian, which made her broad and narrow at the same time. It gave her a short and straight and yet upturned nose that anywhere else would've been ugly, but which on her was essential to the whole. It was a package of such unexpected brilliance that the parts were too bold to allow for quick and easy appreciation of the angelic splendor that shone from within and without. She was light. She was truly an angel. Hers was the most serene and gentle complexion I would ever come to value, and, at first, it struck me as rather odd. It was square and round, flat and curved, with almond-shaped eyes whose lids folded around her eyeballs - they were beautiful eyes. I came to love them with all my heart. What a strange and complex face your mother had.

Verse 442 from the chapter called Bohemia

"Look at me," she whined. "I'm the most misproportioned woman on the planet. I've got huge Martian feet; short, stubby Japanese legs; a gigantic forehead; no chin."

Verse 794 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.

LUKA: How old is your sister?

ANDY: She's my age; we're twins.

LUKA: Oh, really? What is that like?

ANDY: It's fine.

LUKA: I know, but -

ANDY: It's fascinating.

LUKA: What's her name?

NIKE: Her name's Jo.

LUKA: Jo?

ANDY: Yeah, it's short for A. Jo Ann.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 8, Affording Private Health Care, Paragraphs 79-88

For a moment, I wondered why. Maybe I thought they were applauding my courage. But then, instinct was more powerful, and I was the first to rip my hand away and start clapping. I was looking out the corner of my eye. It took Indiana quite a long time to start clapping. I took note of that. But immediately after the applause, without looking directly at Indiana (throwing my head in her direction but stopping short, looking obliquely, at the back of someone's chair in the preceding row), I quietly excused myself and ran to the restroom - for no purpose: I didn't have to do anything. So I got a drink of water instead.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 13, Apprehension, Paragraph 7

At the door, I tried to make him stay, but to no avail. I watched him walk away, down Prospect Street; standing in the doorway, with cool morning air all around me, watching him dip down, then climb up, stopping once to turn around and wave, he made me very happy - inexplicably happy. I smiled and waved back, unconsciously aware that we would not meet again for a long time. Shortly after that night, I was graduated. Leaving campus, I left for Europe with you and we did not come back for a long time.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 7, Trying to Kiss, Paragraph 14

That's why the most ironic thing about Nike's new partner is that he looks a little bit like Luke. He's a short man with curly, dark hair. He's portly. The main difference between them is that Luke has an almost handsome rat face, while Luka has the face of an almost handsome hippopotamus, being both round and square at the same time.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 5, A Man's Features, Paragraph 2, Clauses 1-4

Ah, but I already made a mistake: I wrote that my dream was shorter: that's not entirely true. Fewer things happened, yes - but, as far as I could tell, everything took place in the same amount of time - that is, the dream lasted as long as the first two, but everything was even more protracted, and, considering the content, I think it qualifies for a nightmare.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 1, Our Constitution & Constitutional Reform, Section 1, Losing Oneself, Paragraph 2

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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.

Nike could not harm this creature: this woman floating in shadow: this blur of something horribly sacred-a strange beast of different fabrics, white and black-a veil was it? on top of a disembodied head? a bright strip of white fluttering behind? a bird with a shimmering tail? What kind: a dove? A penguin? A canvasback pochard in flight-about to be shot?

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a frank discussion of the beautiful world of Paris

She was running on the balls of her feet, bouncing away from our mysterious motorcar. She went not knowing where she was headed. Nike positioned himself in the way. The woman crashed into his arms. There was no time to be afraid. I could feel the gust of her breath. It swept me off my feet. Nike held tight.

"Are you alright?" he asked. The woman stared. She was overcome with shock. Nike squeezed her.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring the sex trade

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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.

ALICE: Did somebody die?

FLETCHER: Don't ask.

ALICE: Yes.

FLETCHER: Even if your husband had died?

ALICE: It would.

FLETCHER: I've been wanting to confess this for so long. The island makes it hard. Who would have understood me if I had spoken? My mother? I pay my penance every time I hear her cry. She has no idea what part I played in that fire. I can't help feeling that, if I had stopped it, this family would never have had the problems it's had. Nobody died in that fire except for me. It was my own soul burning. As far as the house is concerned, restitution's been made. As for me, who would not find my weakness and ignore it? for the sake of convenience if not for shame. Who would restore my strength from the ashes?

ALICE: Let it be me. I will restore you.

FLETCHER: This is why I've been pursuing you. I knew you'd never give in to me. I saw your strength the moment you arrived: its grace: its beauty. I fell in love with it. I desired it - not for myself, but for its ability to release me from this guilt.

ALICE: Let me release you, Fletcher Christian. I will make you whole again.

FLETCHER: You will forgive me my crime?

– ACT II, lines 184-193

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

GREY GOOSE: Open your eyes. Do you know what I was trying to do here? Look at this place. It's a god-damn mess.

FLETCHER: You were only trying to help.

GREY GOOSE: I wasn't. I was trying to please Kokomo. That dishwasher wasn't a gift for your mother. It was a gift for her.

FLETCHER: Don't expect me to believe Mother's story that all this time you've been chasing after the cook.

GREY GOOSE: Things changed the moment your mother convinced herself that she's falling in love with that Kiwi.

FLETCHER: Lesbian is not going to stay here. I doubt Mother would just pack up and leave. All we have to do is be patient. We have to ride this thing out without losing our heads and without letting anybody catch the two of them going at it - whatever the hell it is they do together, which can't be much. They probably just kiss and talk about running off to get married in Spain. Regardless, we can't afford to take any chances - not with our reputation as low as it is.

GREY GOOSE: I argued with her today - not because it was necessary - because I desired it. I shouted what I should never murmur without her permission.

FLETCHER: What are you talking about?

GREY GOOSE: I called her a whore - not because I was roping Luke -because she turned me on. It made me angry to feel so helpless. I argued with Kokomo so that I could be close to her: so that I could breathe in her scent. That's all this stupid dishwasher business was about. Did I say it was a gift? It wasn't a gift. It was a ploy.

FLETCHER: Stay away from her.

– ACT I, lines 1237-1246

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

(GREY GOOSE exits. ALICE and FLETCHER enter with scripts in hand.)

FLETCHER: Thank you for doing this. I appreciate it immensely.

ALICE: It's my pleasure. I love supporting new plays and new playwrights. Is this a comedy or a tragedy?

FLETCHER: I suppose it's more of a romance.

ALICE: Which part am I playing?

FLETCHER: You are Tera-ura. I'm playing Thursday October: Fletcher Christian's son.

ALICE: Cute name.

FLETCHER: He was named after his birthday, despite the fact that he was born on the third day of the week. I guess Wednesday October would've sounded more like a girl's name.

ALICE: Am I a Tahitian woman?

FLETCHER: You're not just any Tahitian woman; you're my ancestor.

– ACT II, lines 31-39

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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.

I opened the school the next day. There were birds nesting in the furnace. I thought it was a good sign. I left them there for the sake of the students. I wanted us to remove them together as a way of bonding. No students came. I sat in the room by myself until the afternoon with nothing but chirping to keep me company. I asked the headman if the villagers knew I had come. He said he would take care of it.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes the reality of this planet no matter who you are

The following day the man came back. He asked me what I was talking to myself about and I told him I was mulling over current events. Politics in Moscow. He wanted to discuss it with me but I refused to talk to him unless he came inside. So he came inside. He said his name was Putin. Which I told him was similar to my own name Bongani. I asked him where his friend was and he told me that his friend had a lover. I told him I hoped he wouldn't say the same thing about me. We laughed over that. He left in good spirits.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story inspired by events that in some places were reported, though the details are fictional

Love is the answer...

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

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

Filth, Portraiture

Censorship says everything...as should modern wall art

It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Help me maintain the "Fictional Short Stories" page up and running...

If you love women and art...

Michal is importing Polish art...is he meshuga?

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