Michal makes movies to promote female empowerment... Does he think women are weak?
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People lead by example. If people see me listening to women, it's possible that the next time they have an opportunity to do it, they'll take it - despite how hard it is to consider another person's needs as if they were your own. That's what it means to listen. It's not just about hearing the words coming out of a woman's mouth. You have to understand them. Then and only then can you judge wisely.
Despite the difficulty, I'm learning to listen to women. I think everyone should have the chance to face that difficulty too - and gain from it.
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 22: A Cold Wagon
Janina describes how their group built a roof to cover their open train wagon, contrasting their summer journey with the one faced by a teacher of hers earlier in the war, who was exiled to Siberia by Soviet forces and forced to travel in an unheated wagon in the dead of winter with an infant child.
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...
By the end of my first week in Europe in 2011, I had bought a car and out of the blue had met the woman who would join me on a 6,000 mile trek across the European continent, sharing the beat-up car that I had bought and the one small tent from Walmart that I had brought along with me on my flight.
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.
Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.
Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned how to listen.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Literature 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 Literature Stories
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "literature stories."
Video of me pronouncing "literature stories."
Definition of Literature Stories
I have yet to publish the definition of Literature Stories.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for literature stories
I have yet to find good references for Literature 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 #289
im at the store. i shouldnt have come. nasty.looking women are all over. im like a thirsty sailor. i can only stop myself for so long.
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.
There was no escape. America was everywhere: ubiquitous. People had to breath it, or else hold their breaths - choke, but there was no other way - unless, of course, you bought Cheap Alaskan Air. Now that was very good air - very good air, indeed - or, at least, air in very good bottles.
"Fake" hand-tinted photographs were everywhere: a whole system of underground painters worked day and night to fake old painting. Most of the middle class had "fakes," but if you were a Capitalist - or from a Capitalist family - and you possessed a "fake," you were liable to be disgraced. Your grandmother once happened to find a "fake" in her collection; it caused a great scandal. It even made the front-page news on a day when thirty Union soldiers from France were killed in a terrorist attack on Bremen's Town Hall. The shame of the whole affair was tempered somewhat by the fact that your grandmother made the announcement herself, took full responsibility for the outrageous tragedy, and refused, out of sheer kindness, to identify the seller, who, being a rich and respectable and therefore presumably innocent young man, had been duped, according to Madame Panzer-Tank's English-language publicists, by some terribly ambitious (and yet, terribly talented) underground and (as yet) underappreciated artist.
None of this would have mattered, of course, if safety guidelines had been appropriate: there was no need for bottled air on Earth: all you needed was a face mask with a filter! But people were just stupid! They needed to wear fancy bottles like the rich people on Mars. They had to be just like the Martians! They convinced themselves it was necessary! The bottled air industry helped, of course, but people did it to themselves! They were maniacs! It was, by far, the worst case of collective craziness in history: far worse than Tulip Mania, which only lasted a generation! This mania kept going: passing from father to son, mother-in-law to daughter-in-law: each one equally convinced that air bottles were absolutely indispensable. Finally, someone had to make it law: somebody somewhere in some treaty made it international law: every mask had to be attached (on purchase) to a bottle by a licensed mask and bottle distributor - just like on Mars, where it actually mattered: where your life depended on it. What crazy person made that happen? What greed was behind it? Nobody knew, and few people cared. The only real solution to this problem was cleaner air.
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.
Unfortunately, I did suspect, as I do now, that the appeal to dignity is far less effective than the appeal of adultery. It was a good thing that Ms. Walters decided to play religious works for the second half of the show: hopefully, it stopped your mind from wandering. But perhaps I am being unfair: I suppose it's entirely possible, if the weeping Indiana had accepted your offer, that you would have played her, like a true Catholic gentleman, the Stabat Mater. But even if that were the case, I would still have my doubts that consoling the poor woman was the only thing on your mind. Your failure to mention this episode to me is evidence against you; it has also made me question your innocence in that other episode, one of the ones you actually decided to mention (as it happened so long ago): the now infamous "look."
It was certainly amusing - and, I admit, I had to laugh the most - when our father introduced you, and, while Indiana stretched out her hand, you lifted that sopping wet arm of yours and seemingly offered her the most disgusting, dripping, weed-covered croquet ball I have ever seen. Now you may disagree, but if you had been in my position - which was not a safe one - but if you had seen things a bit more objectively and not through a cloud of unbearable pain, you would have sincerely thanked - and even, I daresay, rewarded - our dear little cousin - for it was most convenient that she ripped that ball away from your hands when she did: the joke was over, and since Indiana was still holding out her hand, and yours was still sopping wet, the situation would quickly have grown awkward had our cousin not broken its development.
My interpretation was graciously accepted, but I don't think anyone expected us to stay as long as we did. Luke was very happy with himself. Barbara was able to calm down soon enough to get drunk, and I? I being perfectly content to let the night continue ad nauseum, was very happy when it finally wore itself out in that manner. Not only did I get my money's worth, but I still have a date! It's yours if you want it; otherwise I told Barbara I would have her model for me.
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.
"Don't!" She stopped again. Silence. Nike squinted. "Where are you going?"
She thought about it. She said, "I'm." She looked off into the distance. She stared vacantly. She didn't seem to find an answer. She turned back. She whispered, "I don't know."
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: I forgive you. Be a man once more.
FLETCHER: With a man's heart, I thank you. No longer must you fear my advances. The object of our intimacy has been achieved. I intend to follow your lead and pledge my life to the woman I love.
ALICE: Do I know her?
FLETCHER: You do. I love Kokomo with all my heart. My soul yearns for her soul's touch.
ALICE: In that case, let's finish these scenes in celebration of your restored manhood and your love for Kokomo.
FLETCHER: I know just the right page from which to start. 'What a blessed thing it is to confess! The firmly wound nut, when leashed to its bolt, will weather every blow. No strain is so big, no pressure so strong, no hand so steady, nor no patience so long that would eventually break the metal's hold when applied to just one end. It would turn forevermore in tantalizing defiance. Bring two solid hands together - with two worthy hearts - one to hold tight the bolt, the other to untwist his soul - and you shall feel the immediate release that with it brings joy, the work of resolution, and the ease which maketh that work seem slight.'
ALICE: Well proclaimed, poet!
FLETCHER: If only the rest were so good.
ALICE: I have no doubt it will be.
FLETCHER: As a show of thanks for your faith, I hereby expunge certain kisses from this scene, restoring to its solitary glory the one final kiss of the scene's end - if I may be so bold.
– ACT II, lines 194-203
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
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.
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 learned later that the headman of the village had asked that I be replaced. He had claimed to the Ministry that I was crazy. That I talked to myself. That all the parents in the village were afraid to leave their children with me. I proved him wrong. If not for Putin and my three pupils, I would've been packing my bags for Moscow that very weekend. I would have lived in the village for all of two weeks instead of almost twenty years. I would never have stayed to teach a community of children how to grow up. I would never have married a local Russian girl. I would never have become the village headman. I would never have run for mayor.
I considered jumping off the balcony. The thought of Khalifa and the pain he suffered stopped me from doing it. A phone rang. I didn't realize it was mine. I thought it was a neighbor's. The hooligans had taken everything else. I picked it up just in time. It was the Education Ministry. They wanted me to report in person immediately.
I often wonder why the cruelty imposed on my brothers was necessary for my story. If not for what happened to Barack I would never have been frightened out of Moscow. I would never have had the courage to walk into the unknown. If Barack was not forced to live a life of constant pain, I would not have the life of love I enjoy with my wife. How can I thank him for that?
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.
Your support keeps the "Literature Stories" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art...is he loco?
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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