<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:19:26.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>escritos</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-8837960669174617739</id><published>2009-01-07T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T15:26:59.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Certa noite contei imensas estrelas no céu. Umas tinham mais brilho do que outras, mas eram todas incansáveis...despedi-me de umas para olhar para outras. São todas tão bonitas, tão misteriosas, tão distantes...&lt;br /&gt;Desejei que uma caísse naquela noite no meu jardim... só para poder olhar para ela mais de perto. Será egoísmo querer conhecer todos os pormenores de alguma coisa?&lt;br /&gt;Não sei...mas senti-me egoísta.&lt;br /&gt;Mas continuei a desejar que isso acontecesse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-8837960669174617739?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/8837960669174617739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=8837960669174617739' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8837960669174617739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8837960669174617739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2009/01/certa-noite-contei-imensas-estrelas-no.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-6549921676603118577</id><published>2008-08-07T03:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T19:17:06.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SJusiWYxBqI/AAAAAAAAABU/wRcyfufYQ9g/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SJusiWYxBqI/AAAAAAAAABU/wRcyfufYQ9g/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231965098245949090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje não quero dizer que te amo. &lt;br /&gt;Porque amar não passa de uma definição subjectiva definida por outros. Posso te amar segundo um ou outro autor, ou até talvez um conjunto de todos eles, mas não dispenso pormenores. Amar não é só o que está escrito e descrito em livros, panfletos, muros da rua ou em qualquer lado. Ou então não é amor o que eu sinto. Provavelmente é mais do que isso... ou uma forma diferente de amar, uma variante...não sei. Temos mesmo de nomear aquilo que sentimos para se tornar mais credivel aos nossos olhos ou aos das outras pessoas?!&lt;br /&gt;Eu não te posso simplesmente dar a mão, dar-te um beijo, mimar-te e olhar-te?! Não posso invadir a tua mente e descobrir os teus pensamentos? Abraçar-te e dizer que és importante para mim?Ou terei que nomear o grau de importância e fazer comparações inesperadas que são de relevância variada de mim para ti (e de nós para os outros)?!&lt;br /&gt;É bom ouvir um «amo-te»... é bom dizer o mesmo... mas hoje, sinto mais do que isso por ti...*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-6549921676603118577?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/6549921676603118577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=6549921676603118577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/6549921676603118577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/6549921676603118577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2008/08/hoje-no-quero-dizer-que-te-amo.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SJusiWYxBqI/AAAAAAAAABU/wRcyfufYQ9g/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-8963449623630612464</id><published>2008-07-28T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:00.001-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SI6G15UvjYI/AAAAAAAAABM/luPZbOEbv2Q/s1600-h/1_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SI6G15UvjYI/AAAAAAAAABM/luPZbOEbv2Q/s200/1_.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228264477902736770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saudade.&lt;br /&gt;De passarmos tempos infinitos numa guerra de gargalhadas sem fim... de me deitar com um beijo teu e acordar-te com um beijo meu...de passearmos na praia, ou em torno de nossa* casa, ou em outro sitio qualquer... dos teus cozinhados (e dos meus também), do anoitecer contigo e do amanhecer a teu lado... de discutir contigo pelo plástico da palhinha do leite achocolatado que teimas em não arrumar... &lt;br /&gt;Saudade do teu sorriso, do teu olhar,dos teus lábios, das tuas mãos... saudade de me falares ao ouvido, em segredo, para ninguém ouvir... vontade crescente de te ter a meu lado, de dizer a todo o mundo que te amo, sem sentir qualquer tipo de sentimento de vergonha ou hesitação em o fazer... &lt;br /&gt;Saudade que me faz ter ainda mais a certeza que és o homem da minha vida, pai do nosso filho...&lt;br /&gt;Saudades de ti.&lt;br /&gt;Té amo *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-8963449623630612464?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/8963449623630612464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=8963449623630612464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8963449623630612464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8963449623630612464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2008/07/saudade.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SI6G15UvjYI/AAAAAAAAABM/luPZbOEbv2Q/s72-c/1_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-9216489246071700567</id><published>2008-06-01T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:00.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SEL8nz_fb3I/AAAAAAAAABE/coIJGS-nrVo/s1600-h/untitled_.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SEL8nz_fb3I/AAAAAAAAABE/coIJGS-nrVo/s200/untitled_.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207001880095321970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disseram-me que para viver apenas precisava de um papel branco, um lápis e uma borracha.&lt;br /&gt;Nesse papel escrevi, desenhei, borratei, apaguei...&lt;br /&gt;Quando apareceste na minha vida quis comprar lápis com cores...amarelo, verde, laranja, vermelho, azul...quis escrever a tinta permanente com a certeza que mais tarde nao iria querer apagar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-9216489246071700567?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/9216489246071700567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=9216489246071700567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/9216489246071700567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/9216489246071700567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2008/06/disseram-me-que-para-viver-apenas.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/SEL8nz_fb3I/AAAAAAAAABE/coIJGS-nrVo/s72-c/untitled_.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-893369000448888071</id><published>2008-03-02T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:00.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/R8sjUdtfJWI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ThO8uyHNbxE/s1600-h/promise_of_you.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/R8sjUdtfJWI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ThO8uyHNbxE/s200/promise_of_you.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173267431444915554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Promete.&lt;br /&gt;Promete que não me vais magoar.&lt;br /&gt;Promete que vais escolher todas as palavras que vais usar em mim.&lt;br /&gt;Promete que não te esqueces de mim em momento algum.&lt;br /&gt;Promete que o desejo de estares comigo nunca vai acabar.&lt;br /&gt;Promete que o mundo não vai acabar amanhã e que seremos um, para todo o sempre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-893369000448888071?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/893369000448888071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=893369000448888071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/893369000448888071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/893369000448888071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2008/03/promete.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/R8sjUdtfJWI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ThO8uyHNbxE/s72-c/promise_of_you.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-9115669155658428859</id><published>2008-02-17T10:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T10:23:19.702-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sem saber como nem porquê, fizeste de mim prisioneira em todo o teu ser.&lt;br /&gt;Nomear tudo o que sinto por ti deixou de o ser possivel em palavras, limitado em gestos...&lt;br /&gt;Nao sei o que me aconteceu... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-9115669155658428859?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/9115669155658428859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=9115669155658428859' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/9115669155658428859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/9115669155658428859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2008/02/sem-saber-como-nem-porqu-fizeste-de-mim.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-1074907475649040496</id><published>2008-02-06T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:00.588-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/R6n-WYqlX1I/AAAAAAAAAA0/jYu_UryVzfw/s1600-h/pernas_legs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/R6n-WYqlX1I/AAAAAAAAAA0/jYu_UryVzfw/s200/pernas_legs.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163938108288622418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Já algum dia acordaram com o mundo de pernas para o ar?..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-1074907475649040496?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/1074907475649040496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=1074907475649040496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/1074907475649040496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/1074907475649040496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2008/02/j-algum-dia-acordaram-com-o-mundo-de.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/R6n-WYqlX1I/AAAAAAAAAA0/jYu_UryVzfw/s72-c/pernas_legs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-8193304700400579248</id><published>2007-11-03T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T12:43:38.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tu*</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A heterogeneidade dos dias absorve me na tua essência única que me acalma o sentimento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Querer te todos os dias e ter te sem o ter que pedir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Render me aos encantos do fogo de uma lareira e ao calor dos teus braços. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Querer ficar e não ir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentir que fazes parte de mim como uma musica que acompanha o ritmo da minha vida...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...uma dança sem sentido ao som do meu egoísmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-8193304700400579248?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/8193304700400579248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=8193304700400579248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8193304700400579248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8193304700400579248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/11/tu.html' title='tu*'/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-2409288386716282897</id><published>2007-09-06T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:00.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RuC15krZbdI/AAAAAAAAAAs/TnPblvtKEBA/s1600-h/DSC08752_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RuC15krZbdI/AAAAAAAAAAs/TnPblvtKEBA/s320/DSC08752_.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107281978141011410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see your picture, I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine.&lt;br /&gt;You have only been gone ten days, but already Im wasting away.&lt;br /&gt;I know Ill see you again&lt;br /&gt;Whether far or soon.&lt;br /&gt;But I need you to know that I care&lt;br /&gt;And I miss you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-2409288386716282897?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/2409288386716282897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=2409288386716282897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/2409288386716282897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/2409288386716282897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-see-your-picture-i-smell-your-skin-on.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RuC15krZbdI/AAAAAAAAAAs/TnPblvtKEBA/s72-c/DSC08752_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-3155406045635895374</id><published>2007-08-30T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T18:19:22.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;No dia passado senti um enorme aperto no coração. Senti me incapaz e vulnerável perante a fragilidade da vida. Uma amiga, uma grande amiga ... sentir que te ia perder minha querida*&lt;br /&gt;A A. presente na minha vida desde que me conheço, há uns anos atrás foi estudar para Espanha; desde aí todos os bocadinhos passados com ela eram fundamentais e sabiam sempre a pouco...&lt;br /&gt;Vieram as férias e com elas mais tempo para passarmos todas juntas (MSF sempre o/); passava-se que a A. tinha uma cirurgia marcada (nada de especial, mas é sempre uma cirurgia!!!) e depois desta as tardadas em casa dela eram uma constante...&lt;br /&gt;Só que a A. não parava de se queixar de dores e depois de muito insistir com o médico para a ver (que dizia sempre que era normal,nada de especial...),no mesmo momento em que fez a ecografia estava ele a ligar para o bloco para a A. ser operada de emergencia, uma vez que estava com uma hemorragia interna de 5L.&lt;br /&gt;A partir desse momento nunca mais a larguei...*&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-3155406045635895374?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/3155406045635895374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=3155406045635895374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/3155406045635895374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/3155406045635895374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/08/no-dia-passado-senti-um-enorme-aperto.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-7268267095204064185</id><published>2007-08-20T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:01.017-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/Rso9NZI9tqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/E-0Ihlwps3k/s1600-h/1187560150_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100956828246587042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/Rso9NZI9tqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/E-0Ihlwps3k/s320/1187560150_f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Tempo livre repleto de novos sabores, de fumos e sons vários. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;De noites trocadas por dias, conversas prolongadas por entre sorrisos, gargalhadas, lágrimas, álcool, areia e mar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Conhecer novas gentes e consolidar laços- restabelecer outros perdidos, outrora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Dançar, dançar e dançar, com música ou ao som do meu pensamento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Perder a cabeça" de vez em quando e falar dos assuntos proibidos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Conhecer melhor alguém que já pensava conhecer (melhor do que nunca). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Reencontrar melhores amigos e partilhar momentos únicos, pensava eu que já perdidos no tempo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Falar inglês com franceses e espanhóis, e finalmente com ingleses...conhecer novos primos e primas ( my sweet karen*) e embarcar numa noite memorável com tequilla à mistura ( e sal, muito sal!!!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Acampar só com o essencial e necessário e ser mordida por mosquitos a tempo inteiro...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;A mudança constante e inesperada de sítios... «o ir e voltar»... o lanchar no colmeia e as conversas com a mariana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;O não ter tempo para nada mas ao mesmo tempo ter tempo para tudo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Saber que tenho e devo passar algum tempo em casa, mas não o conseguir fazer de forma alguma...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Conhecer, conhecer, conhecer* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;...férias!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-7268267095204064185?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/7268267095204064185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=7268267095204064185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/7268267095204064185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/7268267095204064185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/08/tempo-livre-repleto-de-novos-sabores-de.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/Rso9NZI9tqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/E-0Ihlwps3k/s72-c/1187560150_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-4285633730538071971</id><published>2007-08-15T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T19:13:48.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Alguém um dia me disse que a nossa história é uma repetição de várias histórias até alcançar a perfeição ou quasi-perfeição.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sinto que por mais perfeita que a nossa história seja volta a repetir-se, ameaçando ser mais violenta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-4285633730538071971?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/4285633730538071971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=4285633730538071971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/4285633730538071971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/4285633730538071971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/08/algum-um-dia-me-disse-que-nossa-histria.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-8246826856169072946</id><published>2007-08-06T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:01.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RrfbdbNKfYI/AAAAAAAAAAc/c8DE1BdIiZk/s1600-h/rrr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095782801958665602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RrfbdbNKfYI/AAAAAAAAAAc/c8DE1BdIiZk/s320/rrr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro estar contigo desde o amanhecer até ao anoitecer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro fugir de casa só para poder passar a noite contigo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro quando me mimas e quando evitas faze-lo (só para me contrariar)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro quando exageras no teu perfume só para que eu note...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro quando me dás beijinhos na mão e juras não o voltar a fazer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro quando dizes que vamos ter montes de filhos e viver debaixo de uma ponte...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro beber do mesmo copo que o teu e partilhar sabores contigo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro quando não resistes aos meus beijos e eu me perco nos teus...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro te pela musica classica que ouves e me fazes gostar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro perder me na profundidade do teu olhar sem que ninguem repare...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro já não conseguir disfarçar mais ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;adoro poder amar-te em segredo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-8246826856169072946?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/8246826856169072946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=8246826856169072946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8246826856169072946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/8246826856169072946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/08/adoro-estar-contigo-desde-o-amanhecer.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RrfbdbNKfYI/AAAAAAAAAAc/c8DE1BdIiZk/s72-c/rrr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-2566017194831122516</id><published>2007-07-04T13:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:01.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RowHEfdEYNI/AAAAAAAAAAU/h1lhhGgEdlw/s1600-h/heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083445853138739410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RowHEfdEYNI/AAAAAAAAAAU/h1lhhGgEdlw/s320/heart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;A cada dia que passa sinto um pouquinho mais a tua falta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;A cada dia que estou contigo, mais dificil se torna deixar-te.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Em todos os momentos que me tocas sinto que nao te quero deixar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A cada dia que passa...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-2566017194831122516?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/2566017194831122516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=2566017194831122516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/2566017194831122516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/2566017194831122516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/07/cada-dia-que-passa-sinto-um-pouquinho.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RowHEfdEYNI/AAAAAAAAAAU/h1lhhGgEdlw/s72-c/heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-6606271093535862792</id><published>2007-06-06T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:58:01.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RmdSfQjY_mI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XsLsmEcAvOA/s1600-h/in_a_ball_of_yarn_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073114202228981346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RmdSfQjY_mI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XsLsmEcAvOA/s320/in_a_ball_of_yarn_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sentei no sol intenso e deixei me levar pelo vento quente...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Hoje queria que ele me levasse a coimbra...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Hoje apetecia me fazer o que já fiz há muito,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sentir-te junto de mim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Contar todas as estações, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Voar para ti, atravessando carris...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Detesto admitir que ainda gosto de ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que nunca deixei de o fazer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sei que estou a destruir me e o mais triste é que tenho a perfeita noçao disso...pior ainda é nao querer deixar de o fazer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-6606271093535862792?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/6606271093535862792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=6606271093535862792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/6606271093535862792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/6606271093535862792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/06/sentei-no-sol-intenso-e-deixei-me-levar.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NrcSyd8dQ0Y/RmdSfQjY_mI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XsLsmEcAvOA/s72-c/in_a_ball_of_yarn_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-117570877345871273</id><published>2007-04-04T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T10:46:13.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Deixei o meu maior vicio ha um ano e alguns dias.&lt;br /&gt;Ate entao.&lt;br /&gt;Nao volto a passar naquela rua.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-117570877345871273?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/117570877345871273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=117570877345871273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/117570877345871273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/117570877345871273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/04/deixei-o-meu-maior-vicio-ha-um-ano-e.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-117469440841262986</id><published>2007-03-23T17:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T18:00:08.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/1600/416946/pain__by_B1B1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/320/977873/pain__by_B1B1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have given, I have given and got none&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Still I'm driven by something I can't explain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's not a cross, it is a choice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I cannot help but hear his voice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I only wish that I could listen without shame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have been a witness to the perfect crime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wipe the grin off of my face to hide the blame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;It isn't worth the tears you cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;To have a perfect alibi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Now I'm beaten at the hands of my own game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;It isn't easy to be kind &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;With all these demons in my mind &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I only hope one day, I'll be free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I do my best not to complain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;My face is dirty from the strain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;I only hope one day, I'll come clean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Come take my hand, we can walk to the light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;And without fear, we can see through the darkest night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Let it rain, let it rain on me*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-117469440841262986?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/117469440841262986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=117469440841262986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/117469440841262986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/117469440841262986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-have-given-i-have-given-and-got-none.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-116985612019494569</id><published>2007-01-26T15:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T16:02:00.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/1600/286498/Hurt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/320/982989/Hurt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sem saber o que se passa comigo deixo fluir as palavras para onde nao quero que elas vao... deixo me levar por onde nunca deixei e perco me em pensamentos e razoes de nao o ser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Descontrolo me como nunca o fiz, ou como nao o fazia a algum tempo... perco noçao do tempo e da realidade, deixo me levar para onde nao quero que me levem e luto contra isso embora tudo indique que em vao.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;A minha razao abandona me por momentos e tento reencontra la em palavras acertadas escritas em tempo, com valor imortal, carregadas de sentimentos que nao quero voltar a sentir. Alivio uma dor com outra, aumento a minha tolerancia à dor, como se de uma droga se tratasse...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Afinal valeu a pena um passado controverso quanto mais nao seja para relembra lo e renascer com forças acrescidas que me impedem de (voltar a) cair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-116985612019494569?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/116985612019494569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=116985612019494569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116985612019494569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116985612019494569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/01/sem-saber-o-que-se-passa-comigo-deixo.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-116810276469998204</id><published>2007-01-06T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T08:59:24.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Cansaço. E a sensação do corpo não acompanhar o pensamento... A música que me arrepia...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;E ouvir tocar chopin no quarto da minha mãe. Obra póstuma. Após a morte revelada. O sentir que este som ecoa em mim. Talvez vibre com ele. (por simpatia...) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Talvez a física se entreponha demais. Talvez tudo isto sejam invenções patéticas que justifiquem a existência.E, no fundo, tudo o que deveríamos fazer seria amar. Independentemente da matéria ser consituída por fermiões. Da luz ser onda e partícula. Do chão poder ceder e libertar infra-sons. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Independentemente da nossa evolução e do que nos faz viver. E do que nos mata.Pôr tudo de parte e entregar-me a um olhar. Que talvez contenha tudo o que é necessário. Mas é tão efémero...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; O conhecimento, se não se transforma em sabedoria, causa angústia. Às vezes torna o olhar mais límpido e isso dói. Porque se consegue detectar a insegurança. E perceber demasiado bem certos gestos.Melhor será deixar isso em suspenso... Anestesiar. Deixar prolongar sem doer...até que tudo caiba na palma da minha mão...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-116810276469998204?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/116810276469998204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=116810276469998204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116810276469998204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116810276469998204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2007/01/cansao.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-116716620203311292</id><published>2006-12-26T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T18:33:27.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Natal*</title><content type='html'>Natal foi acordar com o cheiro a canela e rabanadas, bolos e bolinhos… foi ajudar a minha avó e a minha mãe a preparar a mesa de natal e ver as famílias (que fazem parte da minha grande família) a chegar cá a casa… (sim, porque este ano o natal foi em minha casa)&lt;br /&gt;Foi acender a lareira e tornar o ambiente quente…Porque Natal é estar com a família, com as pessoas de quem mais gostas…É abraçar os tios, os primos, os pais e avós.É ver a minha avó encarnar o velhinho de barbas longas, vestida de vermelho e branco, a tentar iludir as minhas pequeninas de que o Pai Natal existe...&lt;br /&gt;... É ouvir os acordes da viola do M., da guitarra do R. e do piano da C.; os gritos de alegria e de sono da C. e da E..&lt;br /&gt;É cantarmos musicas de natal e a típica música das pêras... (E PÊRAS!!!)É ouvir a S. a dizer que não gosta de bacalhau e a roubar uma lata de atum na cozinha, é comentar que o T. está cada vez mais alto (mais alto do que o tio R.) e que o D. vai ser alto garanhão (se já não o for).É rir me com os ' E quê???' da D. e as palhaçadas da C., é ouvir o tio F. a cantar o 'meu amigo..' e a tia T. a fazer um teatro que faz todos os anos mas que ainda não percebi muito bem o que significa..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É jogar cartas com a tia S. e ser mimada por ela... (que é tão bom...)É observar o típico beijo na boca entre os meus tios antes de começarem a jantar... é ouvir o discurso (chatinho) do meu tio T. e os concelhos da minha tia T.... e depois a minha tia D. que me puxa para dançar com ela (e a parte em que o D. me salva...)Mas, este Natal também foi chorar pelo P. não poder estar connosco e querer ficar eternidades a falar com ele ao telemóvel…* &lt;br /&gt;Natal é dizer a todo o mundo que amo a minha família e que faço tudo por eles… mas é acima de tudo, dizer isso a eles próprios…para que nunca duvidem*&lt;br /&gt;Bom Natal para todos*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/1600/283532/natal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px" height="116" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/320/859132/natal.jpg" width="232" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-116716620203311292?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/116716620203311292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=116716620203311292' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116716620203311292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116716620203311292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/12/natal.html' title='Natal*'/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-116560600035640773</id><published>2006-12-08T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T11:26:40.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/1600/459456/1150926325_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6410/2244/320/80647/1150926325_f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O tempo que nao passou sem eu pensar em ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Um unico dia que fosse... mas passou... foi passando.. e assim como um "amor nunca passa com outro amor", o "tempo resolve tudo".. e resolveu.. foi resolvendo e tudo aquilo que eu pensava sobre ti continuo a pensar...mas a sentir de uma forma diferente ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E depois, vieste tu sem eu saber ... sem ninguem saber, mas a sentir,sentir algo inquietante dentro de mim quando aparecias, falavas, tocavas... sempre a marcar a tua presença com uma indiferença algo estranha como possivelmente tambem o faço a alguem, mesmo sem perceber..sem querer...formas de defesa, enfim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Percebi que penso em ti todos os dias, em todos os momento,nas pequenas e minimas coisas ... que "adormeço e acordo a pensar em ti", que se calhar me apaixonei e ninguem se apaixonou por mim; que sou so eu a tentar que olhes para mim, que me voltes a dar a mao (mas desta vez de uma forma diferente..)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Quero ter te comigo, junto a mim, para mim .. quero nao ter que te partilhar com ninguem durante dias ,conhecer e reconhecer contigo o mundo, sentir de novo a chuva, agarrada a ti, ver e sentir o mar, estar contigo... e sinto me tao egoista e nem sequer te tenho para mim, nem sei se algum dia irei ter... e sei, sei o bem que o mais provavel é vir a sofrer,mas desta vez em silencio porque é um segredo so meu e nao o quero partilhar com ninguem...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Hoje, finjo que escrevo estes versos para ti ... *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-116560600035640773?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/116560600035640773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=116560600035640773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116560600035640773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/116560600035640773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/12/o-tempo-que-nao-passou-sem-eu-pensar.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-115236088403845951</id><published>2006-07-08T05:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T05:14:44.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/rita.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="217" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/rita.0.jpg" width="168" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A tua presença faz o meu coraçao bater mais rapido...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Faz despoletar a actividade num circuito neural mais elevado no meu cerebro...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Provoca a alteraçao temporaria do estado do meu corpo e das estruturas cerebrais que o mapeiam e suportam o meu pensamento...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-115236088403845951?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/115236088403845951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=115236088403845951' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/115236088403845951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/115236088403845951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/07/tua-presena-faz-o-meu-coraao-bater.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-115127246232923219</id><published>2006-06-25T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T14:54:22.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Strange thoughts...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/1150214975_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/1150214975_f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                                                                                  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;...Strange feelings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-115127246232923219?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/115127246232923219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=115127246232923219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/115127246232923219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/115127246232923219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/06/strange-thoughts.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-114566267643092339</id><published>2006-04-21T16:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T16:37:56.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/cai.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/cai.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Caí.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-114566267643092339?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/114566267643092339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=114566267643092339' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114566267643092339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114566267643092339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/04/ca_21.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-114502991166170908</id><published>2006-04-14T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T18:28:08.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/P6120001.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sentei me numa escada de vento pintada em tons de azul e senti a brisa quente daquele dia que mais parecia de Verão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Fechei os olhos e senti o sol… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espreguicei os meus pensamentos numa tentativa frustrada de me libertar de uma constante que me tinha perturbado já antes de adormecer. E inevitavelmente lembrei-me que alguém um dia me disse o que significava adormecer e acordar a pensar na mesma coisa… recusei tal significado, provavelmente teria resultado de mais uma tentativa frustrada de fazer história…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/P6120001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 10px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 4px" height="179" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/P6120001.jpg" width="284" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-114502991166170908?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/114502991166170908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=114502991166170908' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114502991166170908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114502991166170908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/04/sentei-me-numa-escada-de-vento-pintada.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-114269819258740578</id><published>2006-03-18T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T18:22:58.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/Rita%20smiley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 2px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 8px" height="147" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/Rita%20smiley.jpg" width="179" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Duas semanas alheia ao mundo grande, inspirada pelo mundo pequeno que me ofereceste. Que me foste dando a cada dia. Em cada dia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sentir o teu sorriso e cheirar o mar, acordar a meio da noite com uma vontade enorme de correr até ti - e nao descansar enquanto nao o fizer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sentir a pessoa que tu és.. a pessoa que nos somos, as pessoas que nos eramos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sentir, sentir, sentir...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sinto o que penso, o que pensas e deixo que te enganes ao pensares que não o sinto...porque quero.. so porque eu quero..*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-114269819258740578?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/114269819258740578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=114269819258740578' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114269819258740578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114269819258740578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/03/duas-semanas-alheia-ao-mundo-grande.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-114021777958905623</id><published>2006-02-17T14:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T15:09:39.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/Chuva-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/Chuva-thumb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Perdida entre viagens atribuladas «São João da Madeira-Porto - Porto-São João da Madeira», respirei fundo já no comboio rumo a Aveiro, às 20h35 do dia 14 de Fevereiro, que segundo a experiencia da isa demoraria exactamente uma hora e dois minutos a lá chegar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E assim foi.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Preparava-mo-nos então para ignorar o festejo daquele dia e gritarmos pelo Dia Nacional do Doente Coronário (bem mais interessante...). Depois de rever as minhas «gentes» de aveiro e de conhecer outras gentes que por ali passavam, tivemos o dito golpe de sorte de encontrar um amigo à muito desaparecido que nos levou para o Porto (a bela cidade do Porto...) num carro comercial (pelo que metade da viagem foi sentada no banco do carro, outra metade algures pela mala do mesmo..) onde prolongamos a noite que em aveiro acabava às 2h. E depois de quatro horas de sono, a quarta feira prolongou-se com amigos, vizinhos, conhecidos... que se juntavam para a chamada 'festa da maluqueira', depois de ter ido assistir ao baptismo da minha ex-afilhada, mas sempre afilhada *&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E a quinta feira nao podia ter sido mais perfeita... primos e amigos que vieram de viseu, aveiro e coimbra para um jantar ( que nao sabiamos que seria) com a malta da FEUP, que terminava naquele dia os exames, seguindo em fila pouco ordenada para a festa de medicina onde encontrei a minha menina dos olhos lindos da católica e fingi ser «british» a noite toda... só porque a Rosa se lembrou de me apresentar como sendo inglesa...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E quando a musica terminou, o silencio deu lugar às ruas junto à praia , com o tipico nevoeiro matinal e o toque do mar frio, terminando numa padaria aconchegante que me aqueceu com o seu café da manha.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando fui para casa passava uma musica na radio.. nao sei de quem era, nem a sei cantar... mas tinha um poder que quando conjugado com a chuva que me batia na cara, me fazia chorar- nem sei bem porquê...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-114021777958905623?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/114021777958905623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=114021777958905623' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114021777958905623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/114021777958905623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/02/perdida-entre-viagens-atribuladas-so.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-113949226622194454</id><published>2006-02-09T05:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T05:37:46.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>João Pedro</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Desde que me conheço que és uma constante na minha vida…&lt;br /&gt;O irmão com    quem subia às árvores, aventurava me a fazer saltos, a jogar futebol na rua, a fazer corridas de bicicleta e a fazer teorias sobre a vida das outras pessoas …&lt;br /&gt;A infância passou, fomos acrescentando e retirando alguns amigos na nossa vida, mas éramos sempre um para o outro: entravamos e saiamos juntos de qualquer lado que fosse …&lt;br /&gt;Depois começamos a ser mais crescidos… namoros para aqui, namoros para acolá e eu fui perdendo o ‘meu joão pedro’ para as outras raparigas que imploravam a sua presença constante…&lt;br /&gt;Mas o dilúvio foi a entrada na faculdade que nos separou terrivelmente… via mo nos ao fim de semana, é certo, mas nada voltaria a ser como antes…&lt;br /&gt;Foi minha surpresa portanto, quando ontem recebi a visita inesperada do joão Pedro, que bateu à minha janela e disse como se nada fosse ‘ ainda continuas a preferir estudar de noite..’.&lt;br /&gt;Fomos então para o terraço de minha casa fumar um cigarro, onde outrora nos encontrávamos para o ‘faz-de-conta’, em que assumíamos o papel de investigadores de um crime que teria acontecido algures na nossa imaginação…&lt;br /&gt;‘Os tempos mudam-se, as vontades também …‘&lt;br /&gt;Nesse tempo que para nós foi tão escasso… passaram-se 3 horas e já estava quase a amanhecer… descobri que embora não passemos as 24h de um dia sempre juntos, que há coisas que nunca mudam… o seu ar pacato, a postura de jogar sempre pelo seguro, em contraste com o meu ‘agir sem pensar’… e como a minha mãe diz ‘vai haver sempre um joão Pedro na tua vida’, e este é decerto, eterno… apesar das namoradas, apesar da faculdade… do tempo perdido *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-113949226622194454?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/113949226622194454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=113949226622194454' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/113949226622194454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/113949226622194454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/02/joo-pedro.html' title='João Pedro'/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22113773.post-113935893064131288</id><published>2006-02-07T16:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T16:35:30.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/1600/Hiding_from_the_Sun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6410/2244/320/Hiding_from_the_Sun.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escrevi, baptizei novas cores...&lt;br /&gt;Agora sou, sinto, cedo em blocos de tinta amarela,&lt;br /&gt;Reflexo de um novo sol em mim! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22113773-113935893064131288?l=escrit0s.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/feeds/113935893064131288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22113773&amp;postID=113935893064131288' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/113935893064131288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22113773/posts/default/113935893064131288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://escrit0s.blogspot.com/2006/02/escrevi-baptizei-novas-cores_07.html' title=''/><author><name>rita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01009169129920332556</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
