Michal makes films in the name of helping women... Does he expect gratitude?
Posted:
Women are not weak. Most of them have ten hands. What many of them lack in comparison to men is aggression. Men like to act without listening. I want to empower women so that they can influence men to act more favorably for justice, equality and peace.
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.
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Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern Poland
Chapter 2: Emigration
Janina describes her grandfather's large family and the fashion for emigration from what was then Austria to the New World that began around the turn of the century and which continued for decades up until the time she was born in what had by then become part of southern Poland.
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...
On Monday, I arrived in Europe. By Wednesday I had bought a car. By Friday I had met the woman who a few months later would end up having travelling 6,000 miles across Europe with me.
I had come to Europe to experience European naturism, a movement whose philosophy matched my aesthetic of body acceptance and whose organizational structure and leadership I had thought almost exclusively restricted to the western half of the continent. I was shocked to learn that naturism had an official home in Poland, a country not especially known for its liberal culture. I was less shocked to discover that the home was owned by a Dutchman, but even more shocked to learn that it had been largely built by Margo.
I was American. Freshly arrived in Europe and the new owner of a '97 Ford Escort made in Germany. The only thing I had to complain about was the fact that the owner's manual was in German. She was from Poland, and a German-language owner's manual for a car bought in Poland wasn't the only thing she had to complain about. Something as small as that didn't even register.
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.
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: Friendship 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 Friendship Stories
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "friendship stories."
Video of me pronouncing "friendship stories."
Definition of Friendship Stories
I have yet to publish the definition of Friendship Stories.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for friendship stories
I have yet to find good references for Friendship Stories
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 #4092
disney girls name is anne. her girlfriends name is robby. theyre eating ice cream now. for brunch. how decadent.
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.
"You know what? I was almost fourteen years old by the time I got my first bra - by the time I even knew what a bra was: how pathetic! - and it wasn't because I didn't need one before that. I was going around clutching my breasts in pain. I was thirteen years old: I didn't know what a bra was, and my breasts hurt. One of my father's friends finally said, 'Zoe, why are you holding your breasts like that? Don't you have a bra?' No: my mother is a drunk and a failed mother.
"No, of course not," I laughed. "That reminds me though: I was told by some friends of mine that, for the first few weeks, you were swamped by reporters, and then, suddenly, they disappeared - like magic. How did you do that?"
The Marshall of Parliament waited five long years (and became Marshall of Parliament) before he was judged a liar for the second time (this time, on appeal). He appealed once again and initially resisted calls for his resignation, but even his own party, to whose leadership he had just been elected three days earlier, was unwilling to support him. They had entered government a few years before with fifty percent approval ratings in national polls and were now down to five. They were suffering not only from the whole Russian spy-chairman of the board debacle, but also from a film producer's corrupt solicitation of potentially very beneficial legislation to a large media firm allegedly in the name of the Prime Minister and his cronies, and also from a case where two Parliamentary deputies revealed state secrets by warning their friends in local government of impending arrest, and also from a case where the husband of one of the Prime Minister's cronies was arrested for taking money in exchange for arranging the privatization of a public power plant and then using that money to finance his wife's political campaign. In that particular case, the woman's sister-in-law and niece were simultaneously arrested for conspiracy and immediately confessed to their own guilt. It was very refreshing.
Copies of the Black Madonna, which remained in regional circulation, required from a faithful Catholic his hospitality and sincere devotion. It just so happened, after four long years, that the copy, which Jesus's grandmother had watched previously, had found its way back to Treblinka, back to Jesus's own apartment building, and, quite specifically, back to Jesus's own apartment on the very night before Columbus showed up on Jesus's doorstep with a Krupnik. Now, according to procedure, the Black Madonna is to be hosted for a period of twenty-four hours. Having accepted her from his neighbors at six o'clock the previously evening, having placed her in the main room, having prayed to her (and with her, to God [$%BLAAA*FUCK%^]) with his family and friends for three hours (including his father and his uncle [%$BLAAA*^MUFK-FAGGOT!]), and, at nine o'clock, having sang:
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 know that I've always been playful, which is something that a modest person does not usually reveal until well acquainted with another. Perhaps it was the misguided intimacy - the forceful breach of inhibition - that tightened and then relaxed our excited bodies. I suppose not everyone enjoys being playful, but I believe that boy was thrilled, and perhaps he, thinking me a student, sincerely hoped for another, less ephemeral encounter. But I knew it would not happen, and he, poor fool, may have dreamt of it last night. I certainly have had dreams on less hopeful prospects. How odd it is, how strangely odd, that the basis for romance and friendship must seem so fantastically random, and the requirements which permit these things to blossom, the structure of tastes and considerations, being so irrationally determined, or else so deliberately particular, how odd indeed that any relationship take strong root and thrive at all.
I began to wonder whether Luka might not be as timid, or shall we say, as easily persuaded, as the man who shares both his name and his friendship to Nike - that is to say, his potential counterpart in America. It would prove quite a success for Nike, because that creature which we call Luke, after befriending, or shall we say, becoming side-kick to Nike, became sort of a lackey for everyone - until of course, the situation became so egregious that even Nike felt sorry for him, and he began forcing himself to treat Luke with a little more respect - but, unlike Luke, Luka is not an insecure young man: he is a man approaching middle age, with technical expertise in computers and programming, a skill that continues to give him steady employment (for the time being, he says) but which up till now has granted him a sizeable income, and - thanks to France - plenty of vacation, which means that Luka has also pursued his favorite hobby quite seriously, leading to his present claim of status as gentleman-farmer, which Nike can only jokingly dispute, since his current partner has indeed accumulated plenty of produce and livestock, gradually investing less of his time in programming and more of his money into establishing a lively homestead outside of Paris - a very attractive location, especially for a household whose most recent member is a cousin of Nike's, a man who - as we know - is not only in Paris with nothing to do, but who appreciates the sweetly buzzing sound of success, and there is no doubt that Luka will soon outgrow his current small-holdings, especially if both Nike and his cousin have something to do with it.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 3, Comparing Men, Paragraph 7
Don't tell me you're upset every time your mother asks you when you're going to marry a nice girl, because she has every right to ask you that - regardless of how you identify yourself. My mother has the same right. In fact, she has every right to expect me to say: 'yes, mother, very soon, I assure you.' Because I am the last of my name: my father's father's only grandson. I have a duty to preserve the honor of that name: a name which represents a blessed sacrifice, a friendship that brought my grandfather here to London: to Europe to France to Austria to help deliver my mother's people from the slavery of Nazism.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 1, Greenery & Land Reform, Section 5, Surrendering the Debate, Paragraph 10, Clauses 8-13
Macy had adopted a very serious demeanor; leaning back on the couch across from me, the distance between us now unfathomable, I knew, even from the corner of my failing eye, that the tension on his face was betraying the turmoil of his body. My head turned itself back to his, and with my twitching eye under his control, a feeling of dread began to well in my stomach; I wondered what I had done. As he said my name, twice, softly and slowly, he lifted himself and said, "I have always loved you, always - from the very beginning. I stressed and sweated my love, hoping that our friendship would somehow in someway, in whatever context, allow me to say that I loved you. But you were always too careful, and I was too afraid to risk our relationship. You were too precious." These were not his exact words mind you. I paraphrase for the sake of poetic brevity, but I do assure you that my reconstruction captures the essence of his speech.
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.
"You realize she's my cousin. She doesn't put out?"
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: Good. My mother's been trying to stop her. I don't blame her for that. I feel sorry for the poor girl. Her story is a sad one. Kokomo's grandmother was raped by the Japanese while they were occupying the island of Upolu in Western Samoa. That's where Kokomo was born. Her mother was the product of that horrendous crime. Though they were the victims, both mother and child were ostracized by their tribe. Even after her mother had grown up, only the Catholic priest would take pity on them. Kokomo was the product of that pity. Eventually, she went to American Samoa to work as a prostitute for the tuna canners. One day, she came home with fifty thousand dollars and a baby. It turned out her pimp had threatened to kill her if she didn't have an abortion. Unfortunately, Kokomo made the ill-advised decision, once the baby came, to run away with the pimp's money. He ended up tracking her down. When he showed up at the mother's hut, Kokomo, in a state of pure shock, burned the money. The guy flipped out, killed her mother, slit the baby's throat, burned down the hut and forced her onto his boat. On their way to Pago Pago, they were hijacked by a bunch of pirates from Fiji. They killed the pimp and then realized he didn't have anything worthwhile except for the girl. While they stood around, trying to decide what to do, Kokomo offered them the greatest sex they would ever have in their entire lives: on the condition that they release her. They figured: why not? They could do whatever they wanted with her no matter what happened. Kokomo blew their minds. They were so satisfied, they stuck to the deal. They let her go in Fiji, where they begged her to stay and work as a prostitute. Kokomo agreed to do it, but only until she made up the fifty thousand dollars that she burned: the money that killed her mother and her newborn baby.
– ACT I, line 770
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
FLETCHER: That's a good story.
MS. JACKSON: From what could be gathered.
LESBIAN: I was taken advantage of once. I was at the Kammermusiksaal one day - actually, it was the night: the evening. It was fall: late fall: October. I had just attended a concert - a very good one - chamber music: it's my favorite. Anyway, this was Berlin and everything is very neat there - at least in that part of the city: the cultural part with the museums and everything. I didn't think it dangerous just to cross the street: Tiergartenstraße - to take a stroll in the park - Tiergartenpark. It's not like it was that late or anything. It was October. Naturally, the days were short.
FLETCHER: And the nights were very long-winded.
MS. JACKSON: Fletcher!
LESBIAN: I'm sorry. I don't think it's going to be very good.
MS. JACKSON: Please continue, Homo.
LESBIAN: This man came up to me in an overcoat and exposed himself. Can you believe that?
FLETCHER: Nice.
ALICE: How big was it?
– ACT I, lines 180-189
(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
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.
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 want to meet the beautiful Branca someday. In Hong Kong. On the hill. With a view of the harbor. I'm sure she's just as charming as Rebelo himself. Chinese face. Portuguese name. British accent. Living symbol of a land in flux.
When I go to Moscow and I see Barack twitching and in pain, I curse his enemies and I mourn his suffering. But when I am outside on the streets, and I hear the words "dirty chocolate" and "wipe your face," I cannot help but laugh. I look up with my chin held high and I smile and smile like a fool.
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Help me keep the "Friendship Stories" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting art...is he cuckoo?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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