<?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-1790821021843547687</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:54:13.261-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Twenty Times Myself</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, such as I am: though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, to wish myself much better; yet, for you I would be trebled twenty times myself..."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>183</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4463241164942061184</id><published>2012-02-16T01:00:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-16T01:09:23.097-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fast</title><content type='html'>I don't think there's such a thing as going too fast... I think life sometimes takes us in its own rithym and it's up to us to follow.. or to stay behind and think about it. It's best &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; to think about it... it takes too much time to think, and timing can make things happen, or just make those precious moments swing by us without notice..  'cause "I could've been another minute late/ And you never would've crossed my path that day/ And when it seems true love is hard to find/ That's when love comes along just in time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4463241164942061184?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4463241164942061184/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4463241164942061184' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4463241164942061184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4463241164942061184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/02/fast.html' title='Fast'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8214820747108413881</id><published>2012-02-14T12:34:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-14T12:36:07.620-02:00</updated><title type='text'>As Lovers Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;She said "I've gotta be honest,&lt;br /&gt;You're wasting your time &lt;br /&gt;if you're fishing round here."&lt;br /&gt;And I said "you must be mistaken,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'm not fooling, this feeling is real"&lt;br /&gt;She said "you gotta be crazy,&lt;br /&gt;What do you take me for? &lt;br /&gt;Some kind of easy mark?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, you've got wits, you've got looks,&lt;br /&gt;You've got passion, but I swear &lt;br /&gt;that you've got me all wrong."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All wrong, all wrong&lt;br /&gt;But you got me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be true, I'll be useful&lt;br /&gt;I'll be cavalier, I'll be yours my dear&lt;br /&gt;And I'll belong to you&lt;br /&gt;If you'll just let me through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(chorus): This is easy as lovers go,&lt;br /&gt;So don't complicate it by hesitating&lt;br /&gt;And this is wonderful as loving goes,&lt;br /&gt;this is tailor-made, whats the sense in waiting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I said "I've gotta be honest&lt;br /&gt;I've been waiting for you all my life"&lt;br /&gt;For so long I thought I was asylum bound,&lt;br /&gt;But just seeing you makes me think twice&lt;br /&gt;And being with you here makes me sane,&lt;br /&gt;I fear I'll go crazy if you leave my side&lt;br /&gt;You've got wits, you've got looks&lt;br /&gt;You've got passion but are you brave enough &lt;br /&gt;to leave with me tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;You've got me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be true, I'll be useful&lt;br /&gt;I'll be cavalier, I'll be yours my dear&lt;br /&gt;And I'll belong to you&lt;br /&gt;If you'll just let me through...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:: Dashboard Confessional&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8214820747108413881?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8214820747108413881/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8214820747108413881' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8214820747108413881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8214820747108413881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-lovers-go.html' title='As Lovers Go'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5854428754540821078</id><published>2012-02-11T03:49:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T03:52:39.396-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>I give up trying to figure it out... it's just too damn confusing... all that I know is that for now nothing's changed... but at the same time, everything is different... and how can that be possible? I can't make any sense out of it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5854428754540821078?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5854428754540821078/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5854428754540821078' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5854428754540821078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5854428754540821078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/02/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4163926220489191432</id><published>2012-02-10T02:35:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-10T02:41:43.807-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Nobody Knows</title><content type='html'>Não vivemos de passado. Não vivemos de rancor. Tá tudo bem. E nesse tudo vai o coração, o peito, o gesto, o resto. I'll be on my way. Hope it leads to somewhere worth going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things are better left unsaid. And some things have their own time to be put out into words. Just wait for it, and it's gonna be legendary... it has to...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4163926220489191432?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4163926220489191432/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4163926220489191432' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4163926220489191432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4163926220489191432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/02/nobody-knows.html' title='Nobody Knows'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3141989881710071531</id><published>2012-02-01T01:30:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-10T02:35:29.316-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Importância</title><content type='html'>Fica estranho dizer que tudo na vida tem motivo, porque fica parecendo que estou falando de destino ou coisa parecida. Mas dizer "o que tiver que ser, vai ser" também segue esse mesmo raciocínio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que o que posso dizer então é que a gente faz acontecer o que a gente quer que aconteça, e deixa acontecer o que a gente não quer evitar. Porque fazemos, mudamos, pensamos, decidimos. Nós que decidimos os caminhos que queremos pisar, ou deixamos de evitar os que não sabemos onde vai dar. Temos o poder de parar o que está errado, mudar de rumo, tentar fazer diferente. Temos o poder de desistir. Mas nunca o de voltar pra trás.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E seja decorrente de escolhas ou de não-escolhas, acabamos chegando em algum lugar. O importante é poder dizer depois "I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.", como diz a quote aí do lado, do Douglas Adams. Where I NEEDED to be, not where I WANTED to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então agora, depois de decisões tomadas, aqui estamos. E o mais engraçado é que comecei esse post hoje de manhã, já com esse título, sem saber o que o dia de hoje me traria. E os dias tendem a nos surpreender quando não esperamos nada deles. As pessoas tendem a nos surpreender quando já não esperamos mais nada delas. Porque eu realmente achei que não tinha mais importância... que não tinha mais sentido...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas acho que faz todo o sentido do mundo que tenha sido assim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faz todo o sentido que a gente abra páginas antigas da vida e encontre coisas novas. Que a gente traia o nosso bom senso. Que falemos "the hell with it!" pra tudo e façamos o que deu vontade independente de achar se é certo ou não, se devo ou não, se vai fazer alguma diferença ou não. E as vezes faz diferença. Fez diferença. Mas ainda assim, não muda nada. Porque continuamos onde estamos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Independente do que for acontecer" na minha cabeça é só uma tradução de "Come what may".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3141989881710071531?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3141989881710071531/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3141989881710071531' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3141989881710071531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3141989881710071531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/02/importancia.html' title='Importância'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7892691211592750071</id><published>2012-02-01T00:59:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-01T01:21:19.797-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Outros Tantos Passarinho</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;"We should also respect the enemy within our friend."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Relógio quebrado. Os ponteiros estão sempre lá, mas o tempo não passa. Não muda. Mudam-se os caminhos, muda-se a vida. O tempo não muda o relógio, o relógio que muda com o tempo. A não ser quebrado, que assim segue o mesmo não importa o que passe, o quanto passe, como passe. O mesmo porque não importa o resto. Não importa a vida. O que importa é o relógio em si. Indicando destinos com ponteiros, idéias com números. Então é bússola, não relógio! É solução! É o que aponta o lado quando se está a vagar sem rumo, ou com rumos demais. Que diz "por aí não... tenta por ali...", e faz repensar tudo o que existe, dentro e fora de nós mesmos. Que faz querer ouvir. Querer contar. Que sabe demais, mas ao mesmo tempo ainda sabe tão pouco. Que dá raiva e medo e solidão e companhia e colo e amor... que vai embora. Mas que volta. E volta como se nunca tivesse ido. Porque a verdade é que nunca foi. E se foi, é porque na verdade nunca esteve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muitos passarão...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7892691211592750071?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7892691211592750071/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7892691211592750071' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7892691211592750071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7892691211592750071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/02/outros-tantos-passarinho.html' title='Outros Tantos Passarinho'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6892718464670543701</id><published>2012-01-30T00:33:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T00:48:06.019-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Coisas</title><content type='html'>Coisas ganham e perdem importância na vida num piscar de olhos. Coisas e pessoas. Percebemos então que nossas prioridades podem mudar, como se apostassem corrida entre si, e uma hora uma passa na frente, e outra está tão cansada de correr que acaba sendo deixada pra trás. E eu estou num momento estranho de ausência de prioridade. Ausência de importância. Ausência de significado. E não é ruim. Como se eu pudesse reescrever minha corrida do zero, colocando pra correr tudo o que quiser colocar, e deixando no banco o que não quero que faça parte de mim agora. Deixo no banco tudo aquilo que faz sofrer, levo comigo o que me faz bem. Bons amigos, novos caminhos, novos carinhos, novas chances. E o mundo parece outro. Me faz até esquecer um pouco a onda maligna de acasos negativos que tem abatido minha costa... caso, carro, celular, pneu, dinheiro, doença, presença, saudade. Tudo passa. A vida acontece. Sempre. E o grito na garganta as vezes pode ser engolido, digerido, destruído, até não incomodar mais. Tudo fica bem, afinal, se quem faz bem somos nós mesmos. É só escolher o caminho antes que a vida tome conta do restinho de controle que me resta. Apesar de todo controle ser pura ilusão. Toda certeza, toda razão. There's only us, there's only this, forget regret.. or life is yours to miss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6892718464670543701?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6892718464670543701/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6892718464670543701' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6892718464670543701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6892718464670543701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/01/coisas.html' title='Coisas'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1355886641317723633</id><published>2012-01-18T04:46:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T04:47:29.147-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it over?</title><content type='html'>"I'm down a one way street with a one night stand, with a one track mind out in no man's land. The punishment sometimes don't seem to fit the crime. Yeah there's a hole in my soul but the one thing I've learnd: for every love letter written, there's another one burned. So you tel me how it's gonna be, this time..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1355886641317723633?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1355886641317723633/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1355886641317723633' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1355886641317723633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1355886641317723633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/01/is-it-over.html' title='Is it over?'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2456725513481601250</id><published>2012-01-09T20:02:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T20:09:27.845-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Letters</title><content type='html'>"Love sweetens Life, and Life sometimes destroys Love." :: from John Adams to Abigail Smith, 20 April 1763&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2456725513481601250?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2456725513481601250/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2456725513481601250' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2456725513481601250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2456725513481601250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/01/letters.html' title='Letters'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4475991987423830526</id><published>2012-01-08T17:54:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T17:55:35.971-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;“For some people, love doesn't exist unless you acknowledge it in front of other people.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4475991987423830526?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4475991987423830526/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4475991987423830526' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4475991987423830526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4475991987423830526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/01/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8135688144733512906</id><published>2012-01-06T16:50:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T16:51:39.683-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes...</title><content type='html'>... it lasts in love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;and sometimes it hurts instead....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8135688144733512906?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8135688144733512906/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8135688144733512906' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8135688144733512906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8135688144733512906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2012/01/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8967351741009404785</id><published>2011-12-27T23:04:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T23:05:03.173-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you a man, or a potato?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sx40th975xA/TvprODDbYnI/AAAAAAAAAfE/v4woAMCWETA/s1600/982737_700b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 372px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sx40th975xA/TvprODDbYnI/AAAAAAAAAfE/v4woAMCWETA/s400/982737_700b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690978968218067570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8967351741009404785?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8967351741009404785/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8967351741009404785' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8967351741009404785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8967351741009404785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/12/are-you-man-or-potato.html' title='Are you a man, or a potato?'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sx40th975xA/TvprODDbYnI/AAAAAAAAAfE/v4woAMCWETA/s72-c/982737_700b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7198486186923480174</id><published>2011-11-09T13:32:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T13:35:25.917-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Poética</title><content type='html'>"Estou farto do lirismo comedido &lt;br /&gt;Do lirismo bem comportado &lt;br /&gt;Do lirismo funcionário público com livro de ponto, protocolo, expediente e manifestações de apreço ao senhor diretor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou farto do lirismo que pára e vai averiguar no dicionário o cunho vernáculo de um vocábulo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abaixo os puristas. &lt;br /&gt;Todas as palavras sobretudo os barbarismos universais &lt;br /&gt;Todas as construções sobretudo as sintaxes de exceção &lt;br /&gt;Todos os ritmos sobretudo os inumeráveis &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou farto do lirismo namorador &lt;br /&gt;Político &lt;br /&gt;Raquítico &lt;br /&gt;Sifilítico &lt;br /&gt;De todo lirismo que capitula ao que quer que seja fora de si mesmo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De resto não é lirismo &lt;br /&gt;Será contabilidade tabela de co-senos secretário do amante exemplar com cem modelos de cartas e as diferentes maneiras de agradar &amp;agraves mulheres, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero antes o lirismo dos loucos &lt;br /&gt;O lirismo dos bêbados &lt;br /&gt;O lirismo difícil e pungente dos bêbados &lt;br /&gt;O lirismo dos clowns de Shakespeare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Não quero saber do lirismo que não é libertação."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;:: Manuel Bandeira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7198486186923480174?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7198486186923480174/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7198486186923480174' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7198486186923480174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7198486186923480174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/11/poetica.html' title='Poética'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2732668531779034722</id><published>2011-11-09T11:24:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T12:02:41.522-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember, Remember the 8th of November</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Sou mulher, sou estudante, sou classe média burguesa, sou uspiana. Quero segurança, quero paz, quero a possibilidade de ir e vir pela cidade universitária sem medo, medo de assalto, medo de estupro, de furto, de assassinato.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas acima de tudo, quero a liberdade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A liberdade de ser esquerdista, antimilitarista, humanista, democrata, consciente, desalienada. Quero o direito à discussão, ao questionamento - em qualquer plano ou contexto-, à evolução, à mudança, ao ser criança curiosa e inquieta ao mesmo tempo em que adulta revolucionária e desacomodada. Quero a pura ingenuidade do desconhecimento que gera a busca pela sabedoria. Quero um espaço meu, e de todos como eu que ainda tem a possibilidade e a vontade de mudar o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poder escutar. E ser escutada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que o grito dos estudantes possa ecoar pelas paredes dos institutos, faculdades e escolas dessa universidade, dessa cidade, desse país, quer os ouvintes o aceitem ou recusem. Mas que o ouçam. Que a paz universitária seja deturpada se em busca da construção e da &lt;i&gt;re&lt;/i&gt;construção.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero o direito à revolução.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque não há como parar e por-se a esperar que tudo gire em torno de nós. Porque para que haja mudança é preciso promover a mudança. Voz passiva é voz rouca, que não age, não decide, não pensa, não diz o que quer dizer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Estou farta. Farta da passividade comedida, remediada, com livro de ponto, protocolo, expediente e manifestações de apreço ao senhor diretor. Há momentos em que é preciso se impor ao código, em que se torna altamente necessário redigir as próprias regras e conceitos, tomar quase que literalmente as rédeas de nossas vidas. Foda-se o diretor.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;De nada adianta ter visão de mundo, se não se contrói um pensamento em cima dessa visão. E o pensamento, por sua vez, de nada adianta se não se age de acordo com ele. O que somos, se não podemos nem ao menos ser e fazer aquilo que acreditamos? Quem somos, se deixamos a escolha por conta de outros, e baixamos a cabeça a uma vida que não é a nossa? Que mundo é esse que cresce nas costas com bagagens que não são nossas para carregar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exagero faz parte, se a gente não exagera não se expressa, que idéia contida nem idéia é direito. E idéia que não é idéia vai virar úlcera no estômago de alguém. De mim que não vai, porque exagero a vida, que minha às vezes nem vida chega a ser...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Agora não é tempo de angústia, é tempo de grito. E isto sou eu gritando, esperneando e quebrando vidros, pois antes um escândalo que destrói a um silêncio mastigado, contido, engolido, que nada constrói.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Grito que se esconde na garganta vira cuspe na cara de quem não merece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não quero pagar pelos erros que não cometi, pelas inquietações que não ouvi. Se terei consequências, que sejam consequentes de atos, não de não-atos.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Vem, vamos embora, que esperar não é saber!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Libertar é preciso, viver é preciso. Posso pensar, mas se não ajo não existo. E ponto. Não importa o que o sábio dizia, não me importa se há mais coisas entre o céu e a terra do que supõe nossa vã filosofia, importa que em meu peito bate uma alma livre e meus braços me levam a alçar vôo, se assim eu desejar.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Deseje o mundo, mas faça com que ele seja teu, que sonhar é sina de quem sofre.&lt;br /&gt;E eu sento sonho sinto sofro e sei, só sei, que nada sei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finalmente, ser livre é poder perguntar. Mas na vero, na vero mesmo, a liberdade é a ausência de respostas.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2732668531779034722?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2732668531779034722/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2732668531779034722' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2732668531779034722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2732668531779034722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/11/remember-remember-8th-of-november.html' title='Remember, Remember the 8th of November'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5833592597052168415</id><published>2011-10-01T17:59:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T18:01:22.804-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Little bit...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;"If you see me gettin' smaller&lt;br /&gt;I'm leavin' don't be grieving&lt;br /&gt;Just got to get away from here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you see me gettin' smaller&lt;br /&gt;don't worry I'm in no hurry&lt;br /&gt;I've got the right to disappear"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;:: Jimmy Webb&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5833592597052168415?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5833592597052168415/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5833592597052168415' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5833592597052168415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5833592597052168415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/10/little-bit_01.html' title='Little bit...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-9220437686071644396</id><published>2011-08-29T20:57:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T21:05:25.305-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuga</title><content type='html'>É possível que o nascimento de uma espinha incrivelmente dolorosa na altura do meu osso temporal possa significar uma tentativa perfeitamente compreensível de meu encéfalo de se tornar ausente do meu crânio por pura exaustão justificada?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No meu universo esta é uma pergunta perfeitamente razoável.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gq3ijxAWxVs/TlwpI_NTIRI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/NCmaofbjDnI/s1600/_BrainBunny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gq3ijxAWxVs/TlwpI_NTIRI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/NCmaofbjDnI/s400/_BrainBunny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646433267198664978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-9220437686071644396?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/9220437686071644396/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=9220437686071644396' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/9220437686071644396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/9220437686071644396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/08/fuga.html' title='Fuga'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gq3ijxAWxVs/TlwpI_NTIRI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/NCmaofbjDnI/s72-c/_BrainBunny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1660534651961463856</id><published>2011-08-09T23:28:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T23:38:16.342-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Vontade</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bENfhlxn-FQ/TkHtJ3mKVPI/AAAAAAAAAdI/R-UExyxrCY4/s1600/1311087984_choco_cupcake.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 128px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bENfhlxn-FQ/TkHtJ3mKVPI/AAAAAAAAAdI/R-UExyxrCY4/s400/1311087984_choco_cupcake.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639048962243187954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p align="jusitfy"&gt;Fiquei pensando. As doutrinas disciplinadoras baseiam-se no "passar vontade", um autocontrole avaliado como bom comportamento. Mas qual o problema das nossas vontades? O que há de errado com o desejo? Por que deve-se negá-lo em prol da moral e dos bons costumes? Desde que não sejamos assassinos psicopatas com coceiras nos dedos de matar pessoas, ou que nossos desejos não tragam nenhum mal a outrem, que mal fazem nossas vontades ao mundo? Viveríamos muito mais felizes se pudéssemos subir nas mesas da vida e cantar quando desse na telha, ou pelo contrário, pudessemos nos despedaçar e chorar quando sentimos que as lágrimas vêm, sem precisar segurar e impedir qualquer sentimento de vir à tona, independentemente da companhia, do ambiente, do momento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E tudo isso pra dizer que, porra, se eu estou com vontade de cupcakes não existe no mundo regime nenhum que me impedirá de satisfazer meu desejo. E ponto.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1660534651961463856?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1660534651961463856/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1660534651961463856' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1660534651961463856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1660534651961463856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/08/vontade.html' title='Vontade'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bENfhlxn-FQ/TkHtJ3mKVPI/AAAAAAAAAdI/R-UExyxrCY4/s72-c/1311087984_choco_cupcake.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2757554578492439678</id><published>2011-07-29T01:45:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T01:46:29.561-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Aqui...</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;"Qui si convien lasciare ogne sospetto;&lt;br /&gt;ogne viltà convien che qui sia morta."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2757554578492439678?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2757554578492439678/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2757554578492439678' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2757554578492439678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2757554578492439678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/07/aqui.html' title='Aqui...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4535893045534419727</id><published>2011-07-25T01:36:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T01:52:08.699-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Worth</title><content type='html'>I guess in the end we just have to embrace ourselves, and chose not to waste anything that is worth something, or waste ourselves with worthless things. Our time, our saliva, our grief, our suffering, shouldn't be put to the test for little things... and our resentment should be saved for evilness like holocaust evil, and nothing less, cause anything else is forgivable. People won't always exceed expectations, that's the factory of special moments, of good surprises and wonder, 'cause in the end we live in and for the common, the mundane, the routine. But we endure this life 'cause we live in the expectation of those moments that would take our breath away. And if we ever face that point in a relationship where there's no perspective of losing our breaths, not even for a second, that's it. As I said, we all want to be swept off our feet, it is necessary, and it is the reason my heart keeps beating. Foolish, you'd say, to live for love, isn't it? But better for love than for money or something as concrete... and we shakespearian romantics won't give love up, no matter what. It is our goal and our soul. And fuck the little things that get us upset. Get over it, girl, it's just not worth it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4535893045534419727?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4535893045534419727/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4535893045534419727' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4535893045534419727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4535893045534419727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/07/worth.html' title='Worth'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8217301478769809313</id><published>2011-07-12T14:19:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T14:59:22.801-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fazendo contas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Sempre falam sobre esse balanço, o cálculo do déficit ou superávit... pegamos todas as coisas boas, subtraímos desse total as coisas ruins, e analisamos o resultado. Se ♥ &gt; 0, continuamos. Se ♥ &lt; 0, hora de seguir em frente. Mas e quando esse cálculo se mostra impossível? O que acontece quando, mesmo tentando recordar e somar todos os momentos bons e ruins, o que temos na verdade é um único momento indivisível em si mesmo, e que representa &lt;i&gt;tudo&lt;/i&gt; sem somas ou subtrações? O que pensar de algo que já teve seu começo, meio e fim, e é uma unidade sólida no pensamento? Diria-se talvez que por ter tido um fim, não interessa mais. Mas assim negaríamos a possibilidade de recomeços, de mudanças. Talvez essa unidade possa somar-se a outra, uma outra que dessa vez seja infinita, e que usará a primeira como base de construção para uma nova vida, um novo mundo, desde que seja capaz dessa sustentação. Então o que resta agora não é cálculo nenhum, mas uma simples análise final, que vai dizer se esse pilar é forte o suficiente pra segurar um novo começo, que no final não vai ser do zero, do chão, porque já tem muito chão andado pra subir em cima. Ainda assim a conclusão não é exata. Porque mesmo que o pilar sucumba e caia por motivos exteriores a ele, há a possibilidade da vontade ser tão grande, e o desejo tão intenso, que limpamos os destroços, olhamos em volta, e decidimos tentar mais uma vez. Dessa vez de mãos dadas. Cada um contribuindo com um tijolinho de cada vez. Mas acredito também que as vezes limpar os destroços acaba sendo trabalho tão cansativo que no final a exaustão vence a vontade, e não resta mais nada pra construir, se esgotam as forças. As possibilidades são tantas e tão diferentes que transcendem de forma descomunal toda essa brincadeira do déficit/superávit, que no final só serve praquilo que é superficial e fácil de enxergar. E não há muito o que fazer, a não ser escolhas... escolher que caminho se vai seguir... e abraçar essa escolha, sem hesitações e pés atrás... porque pela metade nada se faz, o completo tem que ser indivisível. E só.&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8217301478769809313?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8217301478769809313/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8217301478769809313' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8217301478769809313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8217301478769809313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/07/fazendo-contas.html' title='Fazendo contas'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6128499118596723774</id><published>2011-02-16T11:58:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T12:00:26.819-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Drown</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Josef:&lt;/b&gt; I thought um, you and I, maybe we could go away somewhere. Together. One of these days. Today. Right now. Come with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hanna:&lt;/b&gt; No, I don't think that's going to be possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Josef:&lt;/b&gt; Why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hanna:&lt;/b&gt; Um, because I think that if we go away to someplace together, I'm afraid that, one day, maybe not today, maybe, maybe not tomorrow either, but one day suddenly, I may begin to cry and cry so very much that nothing or nobody can stop me and the tears will fill the room and I won't be able to breath and I will pull you down with me and we'll both drown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Josef:&lt;/b&gt; I'll learn how to swim, Hanna. I swear, I'll learn how to swim.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6128499118596723774?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6128499118596723774/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6128499118596723774' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6128499118596723774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6128499118596723774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/02/drown.html' title='Drown'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2368747326582827797</id><published>2011-02-12T04:40:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T04:41:24.043-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://letras.terra.com.br/van-halen/41534/"&gt;I Can't Stop Loving You&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2368747326582827797?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2368747326582827797/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2368747326582827797' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2368747326582827797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2368747326582827797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/02/cant.html' title='Can&apos;t...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6295810364288754096</id><published>2011-02-09T00:27:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T00:31:42.613-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Acorda, amor...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;"Se eu demorar uns meses convém às vezes você sofrer&lt;br /&gt;Mas depois de um ano eu não vindo&lt;br /&gt;ponha roupa de domingo e pode me esquecer"&lt;/p&gt;Life is so just goddamn unexpected... and happiness can come from anywhere... as long as it comes from somewhere inside yourself, instead of depending on someone else... e demora pra gente conseguir se desprender daquilo que Espinosa chama de paixões tristes, mas enquanto tivermos outras paixões e afetos a verdade é que a vida simplesmente continua.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6295810364288754096?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6295810364288754096/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6295810364288754096' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6295810364288754096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6295810364288754096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/02/acorda-amor.html' title='Acorda, amor...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4665781779693921209</id><published>2011-01-31T12:06:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T00:57:28.498-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Adeus</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;Adeus! P'ra sempre adeus! A voz dos ventos&lt;br /&gt;Chama por mim batendo contra as fragas.&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou partir... em breve o oceano&lt;br /&gt;Vai lançar entre nós milhoes de vagas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recomeço de novo o meu caminho&lt;br /&gt;Do lar deserto vou seguindo o trilho...&lt;br /&gt;Já que nada me resta sobre a terra&lt;br /&gt;Dar-lhe-ei meu cadáver... sou bom filho!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vim cantando a mocidade e os sonhos,&lt;br /&gt;Eu vim sonhando a felicidade e a glória!&lt;br /&gt;Ai! Primavera que fugiu p'ra sempre,&lt;br /&gt;Amor - escárnio!... lutulenta história!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem vês! Eu volto. Como vou tão rico...&lt;br /&gt;Que risos n'alma! que lauréis na frente...&lt;br /&gt;Tenho por c'roa a palidez da morte,&lt;br /&gt;Fez-se um cadáver - o poeta ardente!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adeus! P'ra sempre adeus! Quando alta noite,&lt;br /&gt;Encostado à amurada do navio...&lt;br /&gt;As vagas tristes... que nos viram juntos&lt;br /&gt;Perguntarem por ti num beijo frio,&lt;br /&gt;Eu lhes hei de contar a minha história.&lt;br /&gt;Talvez me entenda este sofrer do inferno&lt;br /&gt;O oceano! O oceano imenso e triste,&lt;br /&gt;O gigante da dor! O Jó eterno!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fazia um ano. Era o dia&lt;br /&gt;Do fatal aniversário...&lt;br /&gt;Ergui-me da cova escura,&lt;br /&gt;Sacudi o meu sudário...&lt;br /&gt;Em meio aos risos e à festa&lt;br /&gt;E às gargalhadas da orquesta,&lt;br /&gt;Que eu tinha esquecido, enfim,&lt;br /&gt;Tomei lugar!... Solitário&lt;br /&gt;Quis rever o meu Calvárí­o&lt;br /&gt;Deserto, tredo, sem fim!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabes o que é sepultar-se&lt;br /&gt;Um ano inteiro na dor...&lt;br /&gt;Esquecido, abandonado,&lt;br /&gt;Sem crença, ambição e amor...&lt;br /&gt;Ver cair dia... após dia,&lt;br /&gt;Sem um riso d'alegria...&lt;br /&gt;Sem nada... Nada... Jesus!&lt;br /&gt;Ver cair noite após noite,&lt;br /&gt;Sem ninguém que nos acoite...&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém, que nos tome a Cruz?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ai! Não sabes! Nunca o saibas!...&lt;br /&gt;Pois bem; imagina-o só...&lt;br /&gt;E então talvez compreendas&lt;br /&gt;A lenda escura de Jó.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porém de súbito acordou do ergástulo&lt;br /&gt;O precito, que ali jazia há pouco...&lt;br /&gt;E o pensamento habituado às trevas&lt;br /&gt;Atirado na luz... - pássaro louco!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Vi de repente o passado&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Erguer-se em face de mim...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A rir... a rir, como espectro,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;De uma ironia sem fim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A orquestra, as luzes, o teatro, as flores&lt;br /&gt;Tu no meio da festa que fulgura&lt;br /&gt;Tu! Sempre a mesma! A mesma! Tu! Meu Deus!&lt;br /&gt;Não morri neste instante de loucura...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Quebra-te pena maldita&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Que não podes escrever&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A horror de angústias e mágoas&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Que então me viste sofrer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mesma fronte que amei outrora!&lt;br /&gt;O mesmo riso que me vira um dia!&lt;br /&gt;O mesmo olhar que me perdera a vida!&lt;br /&gt;A mesma, a mesma, por quem eu morria!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que saudades que eu tenho do passado,&lt;br /&gt;Da nossa mocidade ardente e amante!&lt;br /&gt;Meu Deus! Eu dera o resto de existência&lt;br /&gt;Por um momento assim... por um instante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Mas não! Entre nós o abismo&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Se estende negro e fatal...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;- Jamais! - é palavra escrita&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No céu, na terra, no val.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu - já não tenho mais vida!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Tu - já não tens mais amor!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Tu - só vives para os risos.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu - só vivo para a dor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Tu vais em busca da aurora!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu em busca do poente!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Queres o leito brilhante!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu peço a cova silente!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Não te iludas! O passado&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;P'ra sempre quebrado está!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Desce a corrente do rio...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;E deixa-o sepulto lá!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Viste-me... E creste um momento&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Qu'inda me tinhas amor!...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Pobre amiga! Era lembrança,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Era saudade... Era dor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Obrigado! Mas na terra&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Tudo entre nós se acabou!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Adeus! ... É o adeus extremo...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A hora extrema soou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quis te odiar, não pude. - Quis na terra&lt;br /&gt;Encontrar outro amor. - Foi-me impossí­vel.&lt;br /&gt;Então bendisse a Deus que no meu peito&lt;br /&gt;Pôs o germe cruel de um mal terrí­vel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto que vou morrer! Posso, portanto,&lt;br /&gt;A verdade dizer-te santa e nua,&lt;br /&gt;Não quero mais teu amor! Porém minh'alma&lt;br /&gt;Aqui, além, mais longe, é sempre tua.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;:: Castro Alves, 17 de novembro de 1869&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4665781779693921209?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4665781779693921209/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4665781779693921209' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4665781779693921209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4665781779693921209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/adeus.html' title='Adeus'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2837422231485811092</id><published>2011-01-26T02:35:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T02:36:43.109-02:00</updated><title type='text'>heart issues</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Blair:&lt;/b&gt; I followed my heart all last year and it led me nowhere. Now I need to follow my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chuck:&lt;/b&gt; You don't need to chose between them. Look at Brad and Angelina. They take turns on top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Blair:&lt;/b&gt; Yeah, but she won an Oscar first. I'm sorry, but I have to be Blair Waldorf before I can be Chuck Bass' girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chuck:&lt;/b&gt; I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Blair:&lt;/b&gt; I love you too. I don't expect you to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chuck:&lt;/b&gt; If two people were meant to be together, eventually they'll find their way back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Blair:&lt;/b&gt; Do you really believe that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chuck:&lt;/b&gt; I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Blair:&lt;/b&gt; So do I.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2837422231485811092?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2837422231485811092/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2837422231485811092' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2837422231485811092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2837422231485811092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/heart-issues.html' title='heart issues'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8657964173597501</id><published>2011-01-23T03:52:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T03:52:39.445-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh darling...</title><content type='html'>I'll never make it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8657964173597501?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8657964173597501/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8657964173597501' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8657964173597501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8657964173597501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/oh-darling.html' title='Oh darling...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6690109556252382816</id><published>2011-01-21T00:50:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T00:50:46.218-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrong</title><content type='html'>'cause you didn't make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6690109556252382816?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6690109556252382816/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6690109556252382816' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6690109556252382816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6690109556252382816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/wrong.html' title='Wrong'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-581742471137109101</id><published>2011-01-17T12:34:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T12:34:49.796-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Total eclipse of the heart</title><content type='html'>I give up... is that what you wanted?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-581742471137109101?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/581742471137109101/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=581742471137109101' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/581742471137109101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/581742471137109101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/total-eclipse-of-heart.html' title='Total eclipse of the heart'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7337640164483503278</id><published>2011-01-12T00:53:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T01:03:23.568-02:00</updated><title type='text'>all I needed to hear...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-7f1c9ce8a96ba5ee" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D7f1c9ce8a96ba5ee%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D455A6A12D8BE7408F2E48FBD6A407AB44FB955DF.5D91A8E7E0CD71F7874A3045EFCCFEB490C67B32%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D7f1c9ce8a96ba5ee%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dx6vqPw5tonjhk7AraMjnJWqIiDo&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D7f1c9ce8a96ba5ee%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D455A6A12D8BE7408F2E48FBD6A407AB44FB955DF.5D91A8E7E0CD71F7874A3045EFCCFEB490C67B32%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D7f1c9ce8a96ba5ee%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dx6vqPw5tonjhk7AraMjnJWqIiDo&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7337640164483503278?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7337640164483503278/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7337640164483503278' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7337640164483503278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7337640164483503278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/all-i-needed-to-hear.html' title='all I needed to hear...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3320811462638330293</id><published>2011-01-02T21:37:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T21:44:55.260-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Another year begins</title><content type='html'>One million five hundred and seventy six thousand eight hundred minutes... e de repente me vem um ano que começa sem você. Mas a onda ainda quebra na praia, espumas se misturam com o vento e o chão se estende aí na frente sob os meus pés, me dando frios na barriga e me fazendo seguir em frente. Aprendendo a gostar de friozinhos na barriga, sigo me seguindo nesse mundo roda-gigante de amor-guarda-chuva enquanto a esperança dança e em cada passo dessa linha pode se machucar. Ah, mas o show tem que continuar, e o meu está só começando...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3320811462638330293?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3320811462638330293/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3320811462638330293' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3320811462638330293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3320811462638330293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-year-begins.html' title='Another year begins'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-420593314664714060</id><published>2010-12-27T23:43:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T21:31:35.075-02:00</updated><title type='text'>O jeito...</title><content type='html'>O segredo, que na real nem é tão secreto assim, é viver um dia de cada vez. E se cercar de pessoas queridas. E só.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do resto, o tempo cuida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-420593314664714060?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/420593314664714060/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=420593314664714060' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/420593314664714060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/420593314664714060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/o-jeito.html' title='O jeito...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6009532727847029570</id><published>2010-12-23T21:28:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T21:37:15.135-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Serendipity</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;"Jonathan Trager, prominent television producer for ESPN, died last night from complications of losing his soul mate and his fiancee. He was 35 years old. Soft-spoken and obsessive, Trager never looked the part of a hopeless romantic. But, in the final days of his life, he revealed an unknown side of his psyche. This hidden quasi-Jungian persona surfaced during the Agatha Christie-like pursuit of his long reputed soul mate, a woman whom he only spent a few precious hours with. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure. Yet even in certain defeat, the courageous Trager secretly clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. Uh-uh. But rather, it's a tapestry of events that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan. Asked about the loss of his dear friend, Dean Kansky, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and executive editor of the New York Times, described Jonathan as a changed man in the last days of his life. 'Things were clearer for him,' Kansky noted. Ultimately Jonathan concluded that if we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in what the ancients used to call &lt;i&gt;'fatum'&lt;/i&gt;, what we currently refer to as destiny."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6009532727847029570?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6009532727847029570/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6009532727847029570' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6009532727847029570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6009532727847029570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/serendipity.html' title='Serendipity'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-347987619093500820</id><published>2010-12-20T21:11:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T21:11:56.537-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Im Telech...</title><content type='html'>"Im telech mi yechabek oti kacha&lt;br /&gt;mi yishma oti besof hayom&lt;br /&gt;mi yenachem veyargi'a&lt;br /&gt;rak ata yode'a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ve’im telech lemi achake bachalon&lt;br /&gt;besimla shel chag&lt;br /&gt;sheyagi'a, yechabek oti kacha,&lt;br /&gt;kmo she’ata magia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K’shetelech lashemesh etze,&lt;br /&gt;basade hamuzhav, boker va’erev&lt;br /&gt;yare'ach ya'ir et panai&lt;br /&gt;shecholmot kol hayom alecha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uch'shetavo&lt;br /&gt;tisa oti bishtei yadecha,&lt;br /&gt;misade lanahar,&lt;br /&gt;tirchotz et panai vetagid li milim&lt;br /&gt;l'mo sherak ata yode'a"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-347987619093500820?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/347987619093500820/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=347987619093500820' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/347987619093500820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/347987619093500820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-telech.html' title='Im Telech...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6642611993666485223</id><published>2010-10-05T23:46:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T19:01:53.746-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Surround system</title><content type='html'>é engraçado, mas quando se trata de pessoas que eu escolho para estarem à minha volta, aparentemente eu adoto um sistema inconsciente de escolher aquelas mais inéditas possíveis, se levarmos em consideração o quanto têm a ver comigo. Aquelas que vêem o mundo com olhos tão diferentes dos meus que nossos olhares se cruzam à beira da incompreensão; que vivem sem angústias, porque sentem a vida simples e fácil; que preferem às vezes não olhar o caminho por onde andam, pra fingir que não percebem os obstáculos que têm que enfrentar eventualmente; que vivem de sonhos alcançáveis; que dormem bem à noite...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e o mais estranho desse meu sistema, é que eu me escondo atrás dessas pessoas inusitadas. escondo o meu eu até que eu pareça tanto com elas que tudo se torna menos complicado, e a vida mais leve se desloca dos ombros pra pairar centímetros acima da minha cabeça, como um sonho que me acompanha, mas do qual não faço parte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eu entendo por que tendo a fazer isso comigo mesma.&lt;br /&gt;a dúvida é, por quanto tempo eu aguento escondida sem pular pra fora gritando?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6642611993666485223?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6642611993666485223/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6642611993666485223' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6642611993666485223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6642611993666485223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/10/surround-system.html' title='Surround system'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-12003976181946082</id><published>2010-09-29T19:44:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T19:44:29.062-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Correndo</title><content type='html'>"Look at us, running around, always rushed, always late. Guess that's why they call it the human race. But sometimes it slows down just enough for all the pieces to fall into place. Fate works its magic. And you're connected. Every once in awhile amid all the randomness, something unexpected happens and it pushes us all forward. And the truth is, what I'm starting to think, what I'm starting to feel, is that maybe the human race isn't a race at all."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-12003976181946082?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/12003976181946082/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=12003976181946082' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/12003976181946082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/12003976181946082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/09/correndo.html' title='Correndo'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8486177716362393822</id><published>2010-09-19T20:51:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T20:52:16.874-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Não se submeta...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do It&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Lenine&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tá cansada, senta&lt;br /&gt;Se acredita, tenta&lt;br /&gt;Se tá frio, esquenta&lt;br /&gt;Se tá fora, entra&lt;br /&gt;Se pediu, agüenta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se sujou, cai fora&lt;br /&gt;Se da pé, namora&lt;br /&gt;Tá doendo, chora&lt;br /&gt;Tá caindo, escora&lt;br /&gt;Não tá bom, melhora&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se aperta, grite&lt;br /&gt;Se tá chato, agite&lt;br /&gt;Se não tem, credite&lt;br /&gt;Se foi falta, apite&lt;br /&gt;Se não é, imite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se é do mato, amanse&lt;br /&gt;Trabalhou, descanse&lt;br /&gt;Se tem festa, dance&lt;br /&gt;Se tá longe, alcance&lt;br /&gt;Use sua chance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se tá puto, quebre&lt;br /&gt;Tá feliz, requebre&lt;br /&gt;Se venceu, celebre&lt;br /&gt;Se tá velho, alquebre&lt;br /&gt;Corra atrás da lebre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se perdeu, procure&lt;br /&gt;Se é seu, segure&lt;br /&gt;Se tá mal, se cure&lt;br /&gt;Se é verdade, jure&lt;br /&gt;Quer saber, apure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se sobrou, congele&lt;br /&gt;Se não vai, cancele&lt;br /&gt;Se é inocente, apele&lt;br /&gt;Escravo, se rebele&lt;br /&gt;Nunca se atropele&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se escreveu, remeta&lt;br /&gt;Engrossou, se meta&lt;br /&gt;Quer dever, prometa&lt;br /&gt;Prá moldar, derreta&lt;br /&gt;E não se submeta.."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8486177716362393822?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8486177716362393822/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8486177716362393822' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8486177716362393822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8486177716362393822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/09/nao-se-submeta.html' title='Não se submeta...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1989550685365949797</id><published>2010-08-27T02:50:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T02:52:06.265-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sabe quando...</title><content type='html'>... você se sente como se uma bifurcação se abrisse no caminho à tua frente e ambos os caminhos te parecem igualmente aterrorizantes e sedutores??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1989550685365949797?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1989550685365949797/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1989550685365949797' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1989550685365949797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1989550685365949797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/08/sabe-quando.html' title='Sabe quando...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1048206581559727257</id><published>2010-08-20T00:30:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T00:33:37.802-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Alt + G</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Deixe a Menina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Chico Buarque&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não é por estar na sua presença&lt;br /&gt;meu prezado rapaz&lt;br /&gt;mas você vai mal&lt;br /&gt;mas vai mal demais&lt;br /&gt;são dez horas, o samba tá quente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a morena contente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a menina sambar em paz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu não queria jogar confete&lt;br /&gt;mas tenho que dizer&lt;br /&gt;cê tá de lascar&lt;br /&gt;cê tá de doer&lt;br /&gt;e se vai continuar enrustido&lt;br /&gt;com essa cara de marido&lt;br /&gt;a moça é capaz de se aborrecer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por trás de um homem triste&lt;br /&gt;há sempre uma mulher feliz&lt;br /&gt;e atrás dessa mulher mil homens,&lt;br /&gt;sempre tão gentis&lt;br /&gt;por isso para o seu bem&lt;br /&gt;ou tire ela da cabeça&lt;br /&gt;ou mereça a moça que você tem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei se é para ficar exultante&lt;br /&gt;meu querido rapaz&lt;br /&gt;mas aqui ninguém o agüenta mais&lt;br /&gt;são três horas, o samba tá quente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a morena contente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a menina sambar em paz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não é por estar na sua presença&lt;br /&gt;meu prezado rapaz&lt;br /&gt;mas você vai mal&lt;br /&gt;mas vai mal demais&lt;br /&gt;são seis horas o samba tá quente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a morena contente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a morena com a gente&lt;br /&gt;deixe a menina sambar em paz"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1048206581559727257?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1048206581559727257/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1048206581559727257' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1048206581559727257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1048206581559727257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/08/alt-g.html' title='Alt + G'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4987954449792740953</id><published>2010-08-12T22:05:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T22:14:11.535-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Lamentações</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TGSbtBdF2uI/AAAAAAAAAao/VPgNh678Lpc/s1600/kotel+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TGSbtBdF2uI/AAAAAAAAAao/VPgNh678Lpc/s400/kotel+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504695842340461282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;"The Jerusalem stone, so resilliant and supple, bows to the transient follies of humankind, bearing testimony like a hundred witnesses, and yet, remains silent."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4987954449792740953?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4987954449792740953/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4987954449792740953' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4987954449792740953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4987954449792740953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/08/jerusalem-stone-so-resilliant-and.html' title='Lamentações'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TGSbtBdF2uI/AAAAAAAAAao/VPgNh678Lpc/s72-c/kotel+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4498510337273736152</id><published>2010-08-12T20:46:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T20:54:14.099-03:00</updated><title type='text'>It happens...</title><content type='html'>It happens that sometimes we get confused..&lt;br /&gt;it happens that sometimes we get a little sad..&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we fight with people for no good reasons...&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we're sorry for some things...&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we gain some weight...&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we get lost and stand with no sures of what we're gonna do from now on...&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we don't know our future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happens that when everything is kinda ok we don't get to write as much... cause we have no need of talking to words and to ourselves if nothing's neither very good or bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happens that time flies...&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we could be in another world and suddenly we have to come back home, and to reality, and to routine, and to all the same hopes and fears...&lt;br /&gt;it happens that we sometimes don't know how to decide what we want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit happens...&lt;br /&gt;love happens...&lt;br /&gt;life happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4498510337273736152?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4498510337273736152/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4498510337273736152' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4498510337273736152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4498510337273736152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/08/it-happens.html' title='It happens...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5631342675815699433</id><published>2010-07-01T13:41:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T13:43:16.680-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Can we?</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;"Try to see it my way&lt;br /&gt;Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on&lt;br /&gt;While you see it your way&lt;br /&gt;Run the risk of knowing&lt;br /&gt;that our love may soon be gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can work it out&lt;br /&gt;We can work it out&lt;br /&gt;Think of what you're saying&lt;br /&gt;You can get it wrong&lt;br /&gt;And still you think that it's all right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of what I'm saying&lt;br /&gt;We can work it out&lt;br /&gt;and get it straight or say goodnight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can work it out&lt;br /&gt;We can work it out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is very short&lt;br /&gt;and there's no time&lt;br /&gt;for fussing and fighting,my friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always thought&lt;br /&gt;that it's a crime&lt;br /&gt;So I will ask you once again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try to see it my way&lt;br /&gt;Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong&lt;br /&gt;While you see it your way&lt;br /&gt;There's a chance that we might fall apart&lt;br /&gt;Before too long&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can work it out..."&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:: Beatles - We Can Work It Out&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5631342675815699433?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5631342675815699433/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5631342675815699433' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5631342675815699433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5631342675815699433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/07/can-we.html' title='Can we?'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7689115715558468808</id><published>2010-06-28T01:12:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T01:16:40.389-03:00</updated><title type='text'>What to do?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, some things are more simple than they seem.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, some things are easier than they look.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, some things are just what they are and it's not up to you to try and change them.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we just gotta move on.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, time is what it takes for you to take it.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you have to give up saying "I can't take it anymore".&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes things are okay if you let them be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes are just that great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't wait 'till Karmiel!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7689115715558468808?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7689115715558468808/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7689115715558468808' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7689115715558468808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7689115715558468808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-to-do.html' title='What to do?'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2822807764971073258</id><published>2010-06-14T23:23:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T23:25:01.293-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Total eclipse</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;"Once upon a time I was falling in love,&lt;br /&gt;now I'm only falling apart..."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2822807764971073258?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2822807764971073258/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2822807764971073258' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2822807764971073258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2822807764971073258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/06/total-eclipse.html' title='Total eclipse'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1996041692815773619</id><published>2010-06-14T23:04:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T23:14:36.312-03:00</updated><title type='text'>no air...</title><content type='html'>what do you do when you just realize you don't know who you are? nor what you want? nor even what you feel? what do you do when your world seems to have stoped while all other's keep spinning and you're just not keeping up? when life seems pointless, love seems flawed, friendship seems frail, feelings unsure, decisions too hard to make, weaking up in the morning almost unbearable... what can you do? close your eyes and dream, dream about the day when the anguish will be over? what good do dreams do? how do we stop holding expectations? and how do you survive when even your lowest expectations are frustrated? what should I expect from now on? what should I dream about? what should I hope? how do I keep holding on?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1996041692815773619?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1996041692815773619/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1996041692815773619' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1996041692815773619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1996041692815773619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/06/no-air.html' title='no air...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6643110048097297829</id><published>2010-05-25T21:52:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T21:57:54.790-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Towel Day!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6643110048097297829?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6643110048097297829/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6643110048097297829' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6643110048097297829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6643110048097297829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/05/towel-day.html' title='Towel Day!!'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2581641118943094820</id><published>2010-05-16T18:16:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T00:23:58.209-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Not the same...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;"Is it getting better&lt;br /&gt;Or do you feel the same&lt;br /&gt;Will it make it easier on you now&lt;br /&gt;You got someone to blame&lt;br /&gt;You say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One love, one life&lt;br /&gt;When it's one need&lt;br /&gt;In the night&lt;br /&gt;One love&lt;br /&gt;We get to share it&lt;br /&gt;Leaves you baby if you&lt;br /&gt;Don't care for it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I disappoint you?&lt;br /&gt;Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?&lt;br /&gt;You act like you never had love&lt;br /&gt;And you want me to go without&lt;br /&gt;Well it's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too late tonight&lt;br /&gt;To drag the past out into the light&lt;br /&gt;We're one, but we're not the same&lt;br /&gt;We get to carry each other&lt;br /&gt;Carry each other&lt;br /&gt;One&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you come here for forgiveness&lt;br /&gt;Have you come to raise the dead&lt;br /&gt;Have you come here to play Jesus&lt;br /&gt;To the lepers in your head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ask too much&lt;br /&gt;More than a lot&lt;br /&gt;You gave me nothing&lt;br /&gt;Now it's all I got&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're one&lt;br /&gt;But we're not the same&lt;br /&gt;Well we&lt;br /&gt;Hurt each other&lt;br /&gt;Then we do it again&lt;br /&gt;You say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is a temple&lt;br /&gt;Love a higher law&lt;br /&gt;Love is a temple&lt;br /&gt;Love the higher law&lt;br /&gt;You ask me to enter&lt;br /&gt;But then you make me crawl&lt;br /&gt;And I can't be holding on&lt;br /&gt;To what you got&lt;br /&gt;When all you got is hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One love, one blood, one life&lt;br /&gt;You got to do what you should&lt;br /&gt;One life with each other&lt;br /&gt;Sisters, brothers&lt;br /&gt;One life, but we're not the same&lt;br /&gt;We get to carry each other&lt;br /&gt;Carry each other..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:: U2 - One&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2581641118943094820?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2581641118943094820/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2581641118943094820' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2581641118943094820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2581641118943094820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/05/not-same.html' title='Not the same...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3386474931773318312</id><published>2010-05-10T11:29:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T11:31:27.338-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine me and you</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;"We don't know, you can never be sure. But you take the plunge anyway. Sure is for people who don't love enough."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3386474931773318312?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3386474931773318312/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3386474931773318312' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3386474931773318312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3386474931773318312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/05/imagine-me-and-you.html' title='Imagine me and you'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4144271587342048153</id><published>2010-05-05T21:47:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T21:50:38.387-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Once Upon a Dream</title><content type='html'>Somedays we're just happy. Somedays are just this peacefull. Somedays everything is just ok, and the things that aren't soon will be. Somedays we dream awake and wake up feeling fine. And somedays things just go into their rightfull places. These are the days I love. ^^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4144271587342048153?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4144271587342048153/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4144271587342048153' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4144271587342048153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4144271587342048153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/05/once-upon-dream.html' title='Once Upon a Dream'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5964439245455096395</id><published>2010-04-29T21:22:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T21:46:45.824-03:00</updated><title type='text'>It's just my fantasy disguised...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I'm out of words once more. And I surely do not know just what to do with myself. It's hard already, knowing that love without a dream will not survive, but feeling the dream fade in one's eyes it's just too damn painfull. There's no more dream, no sparkle, no passion.. none of those things that could put the largest smile on my face even in the darkest of days. After all, how do you measure two and a half years in a life? I should tell you, I should tell you that you were there to light my candle, but you wanted to be the one to blow it away. And I wish I could say "love me or leave me" but how can I? I'll have to take myself for what I am, not who I was meant to be, cause &lt;i&gt;I do&lt;/i&gt; give a damn. Do you?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Without You&lt;br /&gt;Rent&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;"Without you, the ground thaws&lt;br /&gt;the rain falls&lt;br /&gt;the grass grows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you, the seeds root&lt;br /&gt;the flowers bloom&lt;br /&gt;the children play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stars gleam&lt;br /&gt;the poets dream&lt;br /&gt;the eagles fly&lt;br /&gt;without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Earth turns&lt;br /&gt;the sun burns&lt;br /&gt;but I die, without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you, the breeze warms&lt;br /&gt;the girl smiles&lt;br /&gt;the cloud moves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you, the tides change&lt;br /&gt;the boys run&lt;br /&gt;the oceans crash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowds roar&lt;br /&gt;the days soar&lt;br /&gt;the babies cry&lt;br /&gt;without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moon glows&lt;br /&gt;the river flows&lt;br /&gt;but I die without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world revives&lt;br /&gt;colors renew&lt;br /&gt;but I know blue&lt;br /&gt;only blue&lt;br /&gt;lonely blue&lt;br /&gt;willingly blue&lt;br /&gt;Without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you, the hand gropes&lt;br /&gt;the ear hears&lt;br /&gt;the pulse beats&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you, the eyes gaze&lt;br /&gt;the legs walk&lt;br /&gt;the lungs breathe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mind churns&lt;br /&gt;the heart yearns&lt;br /&gt;the tears dry without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life goes on&lt;br /&gt;but I'm gone&lt;br /&gt;'cause I die, without you&lt;br /&gt;without you..."&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5964439245455096395?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5964439245455096395/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5964439245455096395' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5964439245455096395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5964439245455096395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-just-my-fantasy-disguised.html' title='It&apos;s just my fantasy disguised...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1814329163061819640</id><published>2010-04-22T21:14:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T21:19:17.683-03:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;"Caraminholas na cabeça, Harry?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1814329163061819640?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1814329163061819640/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1814329163061819640' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1814329163061819640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1814329163061819640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2197987832424288459</id><published>2010-04-19T10:58:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T11:00:10.698-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Danny BoyRufus Wainwright</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;Your skin is cold&lt;br /&gt;But the sun shines within your hold&lt;br /&gt;Your hair is gold&lt;br /&gt;But you see through a goldfish bowl&lt;br /&gt;I feel old, sick, and tired&lt;br /&gt;We walk the streets&lt;br /&gt;Gently staring, wondering what to do&lt;br /&gt;The sun in sheets&lt;br /&gt;Pouring down those streets to eyes green and blue&lt;br /&gt;And a ship with eight sails could come round the bend&lt;br /&gt;Or a heard of bulls charging stoplights red&lt;br /&gt;I'd be blind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You broke my heart, danny boy&lt;br /&gt;Not your fault, danny boy&lt;br /&gt;I was had at the doorstep&lt;br /&gt;Played, like a two to a four-set&lt;br /&gt;Had, like poor job in the bible by god&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day comes, i wake&lt;br /&gt;I wake with a hard heartache&lt;br /&gt;I go down to your place&lt;br /&gt;We sit and chat about new york&lt;br /&gt;And trips to the bayou&lt;br /&gt;My smile, a trick&lt;br /&gt;Tricking me and trying not to scare you&lt;br /&gt;And a ship with eight sails could come round the bend&lt;br /&gt;Or a heard of bulls charging stoplights red&lt;br /&gt;I'd be blind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You broke my heart, danny boy&lt;br /&gt;Not your fault, danny boy&lt;br /&gt;I was had at the doorstep&lt;br /&gt;Played, like a two to a four-set&lt;br /&gt;Had, like poor job in the bible by god&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2197987832424288459?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2197987832424288459/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2197987832424288459' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2197987832424288459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2197987832424288459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/04/danny-boy-rufus-wainwright.html' title='&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;Danny Boy&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size=&quot;3&quot;&gt;Rufus Wainwright&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5622764214016990075</id><published>2010-04-13T19:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T19:35:39.757-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tá BomLos Hermanos</title><content type='html'>Senta aqui que hoje eu quero te falar&lt;br /&gt;Não tem mistério, não&lt;br /&gt;É só teu coração&lt;br /&gt;Que não te deixa amar&lt;br /&gt;Você precisa reagir&lt;br /&gt;Não se entregar assim&lt;br /&gt;Como quem nada quer&lt;br /&gt;Não há mulher, irmão, que goste desta vida&lt;br /&gt;Ela não quer viver as coisas por você&lt;br /&gt;Me diz, cadê você ai?&lt;br /&gt;E ai, não há sequer um par pra dividir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senta aqui, espera que eu não terminei&lt;br /&gt;Pra onde é que você foi&lt;br /&gt;Que eu não te vejo mais&lt;br /&gt;Não há ninguém capaz&lt;br /&gt;De ser isso que você quer&lt;br /&gt;Vencer a luta vã&lt;br /&gt;E ser o campeão&lt;br /&gt;Pois se é no "não" que se descobre de verdade&lt;br /&gt;O que te sobra além das coisas casuais&lt;br /&gt;Me diz se assim estás em paz&lt;br /&gt;Achando que sofrer é amar demais...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5622764214016990075?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5622764214016990075/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5622764214016990075' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5622764214016990075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5622764214016990075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/04/ta-bom-los-hermanos.html' title='Tá Bom&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size=&quot;3&quot;&gt;Los Hermanos&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7896149533554020004</id><published>2010-04-05T01:18:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T01:40:19.775-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Yep, you gotta dig a little deeper...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S7lpn08W7_I/AAAAAAAAAag/57Kz37HhOmI/s1600/Princess+and+the+frog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S7lpn08W7_I/AAAAAAAAAag/57Kz37HhOmI/s400/Princess+and+the+frog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456508556483686386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7896149533554020004?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7896149533554020004/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7896149533554020004' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7896149533554020004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7896149533554020004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/04/yep-you-gotta-dig-little-deeper.html' title='Yep, you gotta dig a little deeper...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S7lpn08W7_I/AAAAAAAAAag/57Kz37HhOmI/s72-c/Princess+and+the+frog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2328417004433171310</id><published>2010-04-01T12:50:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T13:03:52.083-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mamma Mia! - S.O.S.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ac240c9e668c50b3" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v17.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dac240c9e668c50b3%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D303009CE535D238287C98FAAFB3132E25F17815D.5B767305DD1950AB683816BF091D82500BDB65D0%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dac240c9e668c50b3%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DQr82DRccNOwgRxVmD4YlWrDCjGw&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" 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href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2328417004433171310' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2328417004433171310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2328417004433171310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/04/mamma-mia-sos.html' title='Mamma Mia! - S.O.S.'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6508784803116202071</id><published>2010-03-31T00:47:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T00:50:41.656-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Coincidências??</title><content type='html'>Engraçado.. foi só falar em retrovisor que ele resolveu tomar vida... na verdade, voltar à vida... engraçado mesmo... dá essa impressão forte de que algumas coisas "are meant to be"... sabe? Mas me deixou feliz. Me deixou bem. De verdade. Com uma paz no peito que eu achei que fosse demorar pra sentir outra vez. ^^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6508784803116202071?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6508784803116202071/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6508784803116202071' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6508784803116202071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6508784803116202071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/coincidencias.html' title='Coincidências??'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7132591887130901575</id><published>2010-03-28T23:20:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T23:25:05.085-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ainda no retrovisor</title><content type='html'>- Hana?&lt;br /&gt;- Si?&lt;br /&gt;- No comprendi muy bien lo que es "saudade"...&lt;br /&gt;- Ah... es la palabra que decimos para el sentimiento de se extrañar mucho alguien... pero es extrañar en demasia, como cuando te duele de tanto que sientes falta de la persona... comprendes?&lt;br /&gt;- Si... yo voy a sentir saudades.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7132591887130901575?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7132591887130901575/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7132591887130901575' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7132591887130901575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7132591887130901575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/ainda-no-retrovisor.html' title='Ainda no retrovisor'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5842374639503960926</id><published>2010-03-28T23:15:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T23:19:24.391-03:00</updated><title type='text'>22 de junho de 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="1"&gt;"(...)Como se a felicidade fosse algo assim como um jardim, você vai plantando as sementinhas e precisa ir cuidando delas com carinho, prestando atenção em tudo que as cerca... as vezes algo fora de nosso controle, como uma tempestade forte de arrancar raízes, pode nos afligir e destruir parte desse nosso jardinzinho, mas ao mesmo tempo uma chuva branda pode fazer com que a terra fique mais fértil, e as flores crescem assim mais saudáveis e fortes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que comparação mais besta... ainda não consigo fugir do lugar-comum não eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, eh o jeito que cuidamos do que eh nossa vida agora que determina o que serah dela depois. E ponto. Por isso que não me adianta parar de pensar em voce... eh como se eu tentasse esquecer a maior, mais linda e mais perfumada flor do meu jardim, como se simplesmente deixasse ela morrer... "Outras vão nascer!" dizem, mas eu quero que essa continue ai, linda assim desse jeitinho que ela eh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poxa... nesse mundo há tantas sementes fracas que não duram nem uma semana...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tah bom, tah bom.. eh o sono, eu num paro de falar bobagens quando durmo pouco. Melhor ir pra cama."&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;--- Pelo retrovisor enxergamos tudo ao contrário.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5842374639503960926?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5842374639503960926/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5842374639503960926' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5842374639503960926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5842374639503960926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/22-de-junho-de-2007.html' title='22 de junho de 2007'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7328770839171413855</id><published>2010-03-28T22:54:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T22:55:54.208-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Passarinho</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Que o teu afeto me afetou é fato.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7328770839171413855?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7328770839171413855/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7328770839171413855' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7328770839171413855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7328770839171413855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/passarinho.html' title='Passarinho'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8939328803401720411</id><published>2010-03-25T11:08:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T11:30:46.790-03:00</updated><title type='text'>All you need</title><content type='html'>No. I certainly won't stop believing in love. Because if you can't believe in love you just can't live! For what would we live for, if not for love? What would we die for, if not for love? What the hell would we &lt;i&gt;breathe&lt;/i&gt; for, if not for hoping that, someday, someone will come and take that breath away?! It just doesn't make sense, not to belive in something that.. that is like oxygen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course we sometimes feel like we're turning to "down with love" people, but that can't be definitive, 'cause we all want to be swept off our feet one way or another. &lt;i&gt;I&lt;/i&gt; want to be swept of my feet one way or another. And it's as if love is this phoenix thing you know, which can be reborn from its own ashes... or at least I hope so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if so, time really &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; meant for mending, and only time can make love reappear into our lives. We shouldn't be out there looking for it, cause it will come when it's the right moment. And it shall be unexpected, unquestionable, incurable, unbearable in so many ways... for it cannot be planned nor changed, it can only be dreamed and hoped... and I'm beggining to sound like a Disney princess movie, so I'll cut it off. But you get it, don't you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8939328803401720411?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8939328803401720411/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8939328803401720411' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8939328803401720411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8939328803401720411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/all-you-need.html' title='All you need'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5131161143229662324</id><published>2010-03-22T20:49:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T20:56:59.442-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Se três anos atrás me perguntassem onde eu estaria quando completasse meus vinte anos de idade, certamente não só o meu presente como tudo o que me trouxe até ele seriam descritos de um jeito tão diferente e idealizador que é até difícil de acreditar que eu realmente estou onde estou agora. Porque eu simplesmente não planejei nada disso.. e além do mais, antes eu tinha a mania de planejar demais... e o futuro é tão incerto, e o destino por vezes é tão "afiado", que fazer planos é a pior coisa a se fazer. Não importa o momento. A merda é que planos machucam quando se vê que eles não deram certo... sei lá... e sabe o que é engraçado? Se me perguntassem DOIS anos atrás onde eu estaria eu responderia que pouco me importava, desde que tudo estivesse bem. O que é mais saudável. Só que não está tudo bem... e eu tenho que olhar praquela eu sorridente de dois anos atrás e me desculpar por não corresponder às suas expectativas. Em relação a nada. Eu sinto muito. Mesmo. Whatever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5131161143229662324?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5131161143229662324/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5131161143229662324' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5131161143229662324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5131161143229662324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/expectations.html' title='Expectations'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-4450272154099540083</id><published>2010-03-21T01:15:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T01:25:54.814-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ein li ahava k'tana latet lecha...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;b&gt;MERACHOK &lt;br /&gt;Shiri Maimon&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merachok at pitom nir’et acheret&lt;br /&gt;lo ze lo hamilim she'at omeret&lt;br /&gt;beinenu ein af echad&lt;br /&gt;ubachutz od laila yarad,&lt;br /&gt;terem nigmar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merachok tistakel tire acheret&lt;br /&gt;lo ze lo siyum atzum meseret&lt;br /&gt;beinenu ein af echad&lt;br /&gt;ubachutz od laila iarad,&lt;br /&gt;vechvar meuchar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahavah she'avdah ba'ah venoteshet&lt;br /&gt;kmo sufah od derech avudah&lt;br /&gt;Bishtikah aruchah&lt;br /&gt;zot shelo yadanu&lt;br /&gt;et kuchah sorefet hadmama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Od ve'od machshavot ratzot,&lt;br /&gt;ein sheket&lt;br /&gt;Hadmama et gufi hi meshateket&lt;br /&gt;beneinu ein af echad,&lt;br /&gt;beneinu ein af echad,&lt;br /&gt;ze rak mischak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahava sheavda…&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-4450272154099540083?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4450272154099540083/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=4450272154099540083' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4450272154099540083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/4450272154099540083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/ein-li-ahava-ktana-latet-lecha.html' title='Ein li ahava k&apos;tana latet lecha...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6111329948265456654</id><published>2010-03-19T03:31:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T03:42:09.527-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen to my heart...</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Come What May&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Moulin Rouge&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Never knew I could feel like this&lt;br /&gt;Like I've never seen the sky before&lt;br /&gt;Want to vanish inside your kiss&lt;br /&gt;Every day I love you more and more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings?&lt;br /&gt;Telling me to give you everything&lt;br /&gt;Seasons may change, winter to spring&lt;br /&gt;But I love you until the end of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come what may&lt;br /&gt;I will love you until my dying day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste&lt;br /&gt;It all revolves around you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's no mountain too high&lt;br /&gt;No river too wide&lt;br /&gt;Sing out this song&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be there by your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Storm clouds may gather&lt;br /&gt;And stars may collide&lt;br /&gt;But I love you until the end of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come what may&lt;br /&gt;I will love you...&lt;br /&gt;until my dying day"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;Guess I'm finally out of words.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6111329948265456654?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6111329948265456654/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6111329948265456654' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6111329948265456654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6111329948265456654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/listen-to-my-heart.html' title='Listen to my heart...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7090180952574729205</id><published>2010-03-19T03:27:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T03:30:28.325-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Anyone else</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;o tempo dói...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7090180952574729205?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7090180952574729205/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7090180952574729205' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7090180952574729205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7090180952574729205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/anyone-else.html' title='Anyone else'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2221289422432828779</id><published>2010-03-12T00:14:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T00:27:55.784-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Instinto</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Não tão recentemente eu acabei descobrindo uma coisa um tanto engraçada... e é claro que por "engraçada" eu quero dizer "um tanto bizarra". É que quando eu sinto fome, fome mesmo, dessas do estômago ficar fazendo barulhinhos, geralmente durante alguma aula, e mais normalmente de manhã, eu penso em sexo. Mesmo. Eu fico alheia a qualquer coisa em volta, e nesses momentos tanto uma mordida numa barra de chocolate quanto uma no pescoço me parecem igualmente "saciadoras". Como se a fêmea primitiva e instintiva que se esconde no meu inconsciente animal associasse diretamente a união física com um "macho" à possibilidade deste de prover alimento para sua fêmea e, assim, para a "futura prole". Como se estes milhares de anos de evoluções e revoluções científicas e culturais enfim não deram conta de apagar dos instintos femininos a noção de que, usando do sexo para atrair o sexo oposto, adquirimos proteção e automáticamente temos um "provedor", já que enquanto a mulher se encarrega da "prole", o homem caça e se encarrega das provisões necessárias para a sobrevivência da família... são instintos pré-históricos, e eu como o animal mamífero que nunca deixei de ser os tenho intrínsecos na minha alma e não há como renunciá-los. Enfim, o que eu quero dizer com essa baboseira toda é: quer me fazer feliz? Me dê uma bomba de chocolate da Ofner e, assim, tanto a mulher capitalista consumista moderna e compulsiva quanto a mulher fêmea primitiva e instintiva que coexistem dentro de mim ficarão verdadeiramente contentes. Ponto.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2221289422432828779?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2221289422432828779/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2221289422432828779' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2221289422432828779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2221289422432828779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/instinto.html' title='Instinto'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3699612193461093513</id><published>2010-03-09T12:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T12:13:52.158-03:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>"Não importa o mal que te atormenta&lt;br /&gt;se o sonho te contenta&lt;br /&gt;e pode algum dia se realizar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... e se não puder se realizar, a gente faz o que?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3699612193461093513?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3699612193461093513/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3699612193461093513' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3699612193461093513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3699612193461093513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1469527569959298184</id><published>2010-02-11T14:10:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T14:12:03.139-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Er...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S3QsG0j3GiI/AAAAAAAAAZE/JpsO0QpBtL4/s1600-h/rosa+p%26b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S3QsG0j3GiI/AAAAAAAAAZE/JpsO0QpBtL4/s400/rosa+p%26b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437019145842924066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Tá bom, tá bom.. eu sei que tá podre, todas elas tão, mas dá um tempo vai, eu acabei de começar a mexer nesse troço... se bem que não é tããão complicado quanto eu achei que fosse ^^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1469527569959298184?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1469527569959298184/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1469527569959298184' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1469527569959298184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1469527569959298184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/02/er.html' title='Er...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S3QsG0j3GiI/AAAAAAAAAZE/JpsO0QpBtL4/s72-c/rosa+p%26b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-9046013336941143508</id><published>2010-02-11T12:52:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T12:53:46.621-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Brincando de Photoshop ^^</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S3QZ9S-az4I/AAAAAAAAAY0/BFhkZLUoCVo/s1600-h/bumba+p%26b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S3QZ9S-az4I/AAAAAAAAAY0/BFhkZLUoCVo/s400/bumba+p%26b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436999190999388034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-9046013336941143508?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/9046013336941143508/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=9046013336941143508' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/9046013336941143508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/9046013336941143508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/02/brincando-de-photoshop.html' title='Brincando de Photoshop ^^'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S3QZ9S-az4I/AAAAAAAAAY0/BFhkZLUoCVo/s72-c/bumba+p%26b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7251953273575577936</id><published>2010-01-29T00:33:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T00:34:07.484-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Addictions..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f89/bluegirl42/milliways.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 351px;" src="http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f89/bluegirl42/milliways.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7251953273575577936?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7251953273575577936/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7251953273575577936' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7251953273575577936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7251953273575577936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/01/addictions.html' title='Addictions..'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7606070098942043643</id><published>2010-01-21T15:13:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:18:13.934-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S1iLX6VGFlI/AAAAAAAAAYs/JP6pmSN_dZk/s1600-h/folhateen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S1iLX6VGFlI/AAAAAAAAAYs/JP6pmSN_dZk/s400/folhateen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429242593706120786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;"Parou na página 70 o fanfic que Hana estava escrevendo ao sair na capa do Folhateen de 19 de novembro de 2004. Não contente com o resultado, ela deixou o livro inacabado, mas leu a saga do bruxinho até o fim. Depois disso, parou com a carreira de escritora. 'Faz muito tempo que não escrevo', diz a vestibulanda de medicina, 'mas ando lendo bastante coisa, tipo o Guia do Mochileiro das Galáxias, nas férias.'"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7606070098942043643?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7606070098942043643/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7606070098942043643' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7606070098942043643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7606070098942043643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/01/yesterday.html' title='Yesterday...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/S1iLX6VGFlI/AAAAAAAAAYs/JP6pmSN_dZk/s72-c/folhateen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2212767123142364502</id><published>2010-01-15T13:42:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T13:43:40.796-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurt</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Porque um pouco da gente vai com ele, mas muito dele fica com a gente."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2212767123142364502?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2212767123142364502/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2212767123142364502' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2212767123142364502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2212767123142364502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/01/hurt.html' title='Hurt'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-760313457097235248</id><published>2010-01-13T22:20:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T22:34:46.380-02:00</updated><title type='text'>you and I both...</title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="1"&gt;"(...)There's fear in the truth at hand,&lt;br /&gt;frozen I forgot to understand&lt;br /&gt;The live keep living, growing older more into a man&lt;br /&gt;And I let her grow away from me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)Love.. love is not pretending&lt;br /&gt;Time.. time was meant for mending&lt;br /&gt;Memories into all is satisfactory,&lt;br /&gt;Healthy smiles fill the page the day we spent in miles&lt;br /&gt;And I let her drive away from me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as she left I heard her singing,&lt;br /&gt;'ohhhh let the sun shine in', &lt;br /&gt;and face it with a grin&lt;br /&gt;because smilers, they never loose&lt;br /&gt;and frowners, they never win(...)"&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;... well I'm almost finally out of words.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-760313457097235248?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/760313457097235248/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=760313457097235248' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/760313457097235248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/760313457097235248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2010/01/you-and-i-both.html' title='you and I both...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5669106448146453040</id><published>2009-12-16T23:10:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T23:18:30.237-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Nada</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"...e pro louco tudo faz sentido... tudo conecta, tudo se costura, numa emendação de fatos, pessoas, coisas e sonhos conexos e desconexos, que tudo têm em si mesmos ainda que nada tenham um do outro. Que não tenha nada de mim em mim mesma não há como dizer, mas que não tenha nada de ti, impossível. De tudo que há, existo e sou, e o tudo nada tem de mim. Serei louca então, de conectar-me em mim mesma com coisas que existem fora de mim? Do mundo que me faz mas que não faço, e da existência em que não existo, apesar de existir dentro de mim? Existo então? Ou não? Porque penso, mas não sei, e o saber se faz em tudo, ou tudo se faz em saber, e eu não me faço em nada..."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;bR&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5669106448146453040?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5669106448146453040/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5669106448146453040' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5669106448146453040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5669106448146453040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/12/nada.html' title='Nada'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7137375304156686286</id><published>2009-12-08T21:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T21:55:24.890-02:00</updated><title type='text'>aiai...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Sx7nUnYLyWI/AAAAAAAAAYA/wL4K6fjEDd4/s1600-h/zoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 348px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Sx7nUnYLyWI/AAAAAAAAAYA/wL4K6fjEDd4/s400/zoo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413018143499733346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;So... have you seen my Zoo??&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7137375304156686286?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7137375304156686286/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7137375304156686286' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7137375304156686286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7137375304156686286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/12/aiai.html' title='aiai...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Sx7nUnYLyWI/AAAAAAAAAYA/wL4K6fjEDd4/s72-c/zoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2116948764631695568</id><published>2009-12-07T22:47:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T22:47:45.935-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vícios</title><content type='html'>Facebook é uma merda. Só. ;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2116948764631695568?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2116948764631695568/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2116948764631695568' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2116948764631695568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2116948764631695568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/12/vicios.html' title='Vícios'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8853709328581863106</id><published>2009-12-01T18:13:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T18:14:07.547-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Para encher os olhos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;"Só a idéia de reunir a energia do Grupo Prumo em torno do Circo, já se faz prever um trabalho de contenção da energia natural desses jovens como também o trabalho de dar-lhe forma. O que foi conseguido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A contribuição da Direção dividindo o palco em fatias cinemáticas; a contribuição de uma sonoplastia criativa e realizada com acréscimos sonoros e ruidosos; a geometria cênica elaborada com riqueza pela coreografia – tudo explodiu no palco com o acréscimo da alegria pessoal de cada ator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não posso senão congratular-me de ter presenciado uma demonstração de energia teatral mais rara do que se assemelha na comparação com outros espetáculos desta cidade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parece-me que cada ator se dedicou ao máximo para encher de alegria os olhos infantis. E não foram só as crianças que puseram os olhares fixados nesse palco mágico...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quanto aos figurinos diria que o desencontro foi um encontro, e afinal, havia uma harmonia cromática e de estilo. Parabéns à figurinista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria, entretanto, salientar um momento. O do tango. Creio que este momento se destaca no percurso do espetáculo e então todos os bens cênicos e os talentos individuais, emergem em uníssono.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foi uma tarde rica e memorizada para sempre em minhas veteranas retinas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muito obrigado."&lt;br /&gt;Cyro del Nero&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8853709328581863106?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8853709328581863106/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8853709328581863106' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8853709328581863106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8853709328581863106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/12/para-encher-os-olhos.html' title='Para encher os olhos...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7556710573575284536</id><published>2009-11-29T20:26:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T20:28:38.868-02:00</updated><title type='text'>even in the darkest of days...</title><content type='html'>"(...)In my darkest night,&lt;br /&gt;when the moon was covered&lt;br /&gt;and I roamed through wreckage,&lt;br /&gt;a nimbus-clouded voice&lt;br /&gt;directed me:&lt;br /&gt;"Live in the layers,&lt;br /&gt;not on the litter."&lt;br /&gt;Though I lack the art&lt;br /&gt;to decipher it,&lt;br /&gt;no doubt the next chapter&lt;br /&gt;in my book of transformations&lt;br /&gt;is already written.&lt;br /&gt;I am not done with my changes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;:: The Layers&lt;/i&gt;, by Stanley Kunitz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7556710573575284536?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7556710573575284536/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7556710573575284536' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7556710573575284536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7556710573575284536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/11/even-in-darkest-of-days.html' title='even in the darkest of days...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5268356276667163296</id><published>2009-11-18T15:45:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T16:13:51.368-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Video promocional ;]</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-fd1f9b88fad39e69" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v17.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dfd1f9b88fad39e69%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DEF2610FD877531632BD688A8E2C18013FD37772.6422DB468FA15FEBDD9454A8F7DC4DB8FC069B79%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfd1f9b88fad39e69%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DyyBC5HhRt5Hr2nYzPZm24fL3Z8U&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v17.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dfd1f9b88fad39e69%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DEF2610FD877531632BD688A8E2C18013FD37772.6422DB468FA15FEBDD9454A8F7DC4DB8FC069B79%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfd1f9b88fad39e69%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DyyBC5HhRt5Hr2nYzPZm24fL3Z8U&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5268356276667163296?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5268356276667163296/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5268356276667163296' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5268356276667163296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5268356276667163296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/11/video-promocional.html' title='Video promocional ;]'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7706057824460345851</id><published>2009-10-31T18:15:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T18:30:28.499-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Circo da Criação no Shalom Brasil!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-af6b0a24cad8012" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0af6b0a24cad8012%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4666261ED45FB0C986C817C5489539B62DDD15EE.601EDA7FCAC468313BB399491D7FD73B26CF7B5E%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daf6b0a24cad8012%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DAPaIKXjey2Di_HnL8SEDUhQbffU&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0af6b0a24cad8012%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4666261ED45FB0C986C817C5489539B62DDD15EE.601EDA7FCAC468313BB399491D7FD73B26CF7B5E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daf6b0a24cad8012%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DAPaIKXjey2Di_HnL8SEDUhQbffU&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7706057824460345851?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7706057824460345851/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7706057824460345851' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7706057824460345851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7706057824460345851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/10/circo-da-criacao-no-shalom-brasil.html' title='Circo da Criação no Shalom Brasil!!'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6932797478369590107</id><published>2009-10-26T15:39:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T11:52:15.158-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ensaio (ou algo assim)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-71db6d5d01ea9bc" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D071db6d5d01ea9bc%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7535AF3ED9E2EAF28983054EC4E1D13F46245E57.1FBCD200AC5D5AAFECEEC87A39D134918178DE9A%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D71db6d5d01ea9bc%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DF3JR_hXrwug7fL0ZJ4BG1VgTcvg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D071db6d5d01ea9bc%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331575351%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7535AF3ED9E2EAF28983054EC4E1D13F46245E57.1FBCD200AC5D5AAFECEEC87A39D134918178DE9A%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D71db6d5d01ea9bc%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DF3JR_hXrwug7fL0ZJ4BG1VgTcvg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;"Gostaria de comentar o vídeo "brisando" que o Marcus mandou:&lt;br /&gt;- O Mamá ta falando e cada um ta numa vibe.&lt;br /&gt;- Reparem no Ilan, ele não para de andar sem rumo.&lt;br /&gt;- O que o Ribas pode estar conversando com a Lu? Alguém imagina? (A Lu está super interessada..hahaha)&lt;br /&gt;- Entre a Lu e o Ribas, A Ku e o Guilad estão dançando o famoso Axé que a Helena tanto adora!&lt;br /&gt;- Agora reparem no trajeto do Caio. Ele está na vibe do Ilan. Mas quando ele vê a Ku e o Guilad, ele tenta se enturmar.&lt;br /&gt;- E o Dudu e a Hana lá atrás? Estão vivendo uma cena no sense.&lt;br /&gt;Esse é o Prumo! haha"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6932797478369590107?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6932797478369590107/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6932797478369590107' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6932797478369590107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6932797478369590107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/10/mais-um-ensaio-qualquer.html' title='Ensaio (ou algo assim)'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6092336364784608722</id><published>2009-10-22T17:20:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T17:26:02.629-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Passado</title><content type='html'>Engraçado como a gente às vezes, olhando pra trás, não se reconhece. Como as coisas que sentimos, que vivemos, e que na época foram tão fascinantes, agora parecem bobas, simples. Como também alguns sofrimentos parecem grandes demais pra gente ter suportado naquele momento. Foi culpa minha se quis apressar as coisas, correr mais que o tempo, passar na frente de mim mesma. Pelo menos agora eu sei seguir meu ritmo, meu pulsar, e minhas pequeninas angústias são tão poucas, tão raras. É esse o sentimento de estar onde se quer estar, e de ser quem se quer ser. Gosto de gostar de mim, apesar de todas as inseguranças e desequilíbrios momentâneos. Gosto de poder montar pirâmides. Gosto desse meu tempo, dessa minha vida, com todos os pequenos problemas que eu sei que um dia passam, com todas as pequenas felicidades que eu sei que um dia serão sorrisos curtos de lembrança remota. O que será, será. Mas mais do que tudo, o que é, &lt;b&gt;é&lt;/b&gt;. E é agora. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6092336364784608722?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6092336364784608722/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6092336364784608722' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6092336364784608722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6092336364784608722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/10/passado.html' title='Passado'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2867091772096144518</id><published>2009-10-19T14:51:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T14:14:43.879-02:00</updated><title type='text'>"Com olhos, ouvidos e coração"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SuCE47cTFkI/AAAAAAAAAX4/Q3r53fyFgXk/s1600-h/S5033218.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SuCE47cTFkI/AAAAAAAAAX4/Q3r53fyFgXk/s400/S5033218.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395458467153778242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2867091772096144518?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2867091772096144518/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2867091772096144518' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2867091772096144518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2867091772096144518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/10/com-olhos-ouvidos-e-coracao.html' title='&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&quot;Com olhos, ouvidos e coração&quot;&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SuCE47cTFkI/AAAAAAAAAX4/Q3r53fyFgXk/s72-c/S5033218.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-1763995827364361103</id><published>2009-10-05T20:39:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T20:48:38.188-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The hills are alive...</title><content type='html'>"Ah, então você vai querer aprender o Hava Naguila."&lt;br /&gt;"Não. Quero o Violinista no Telhado mesmo."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SsqFNXVzqNI/AAAAAAAAAXw/wm5emC92uow/s1600-h/Fiddel+Head+-+Large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SsqFNXVzqNI/AAAAAAAAAXw/wm5emC92uow/s320/Fiddel+Head+-+Large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389266368752494802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;"Segunda, não essa, a outra, você pode vir?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-1763995827364361103?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1763995827364361103/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=1763995827364361103' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1763995827364361103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/1763995827364361103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/10/hills-are-alive.html' title='The hills are alive...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SsqFNXVzqNI/AAAAAAAAAXw/wm5emC92uow/s72-c/Fiddel+Head+-+Large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2284844257490598196</id><published>2009-09-30T14:53:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T15:00:00.748-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Prioridade</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Essa mania besta de se preocupar com o que não faz. Não faz diferença, não faz presença, não faz vivência, não faz. O que não muda, não sente, não diz, só quem diz é quem não vê. Não vê que o que realmente importa não tá lá, na &lt;i&gt;cara&lt;/i&gt;, tá na lágrima, na ruga, no &lt;i&gt;rosto&lt;/i&gt;. Anos, quilos e defeitos vêm e vão. Em vão. Que fica? Fica o que não vai. E não vai porque o que importa faz. Faz acontecer. Traz vida e desvida, nesse nosso gira-mundo por vezes intragável. Não traga pra dentro o que uma hora se vai. Porque se vai tem que é ficar do lado de fora, no cantinho da estante, pra se preocupar só quando tem tempo de sobra. E quando é que sobra tempo? Então não se preocupa e ponto. Deixa lá que uma hora some. Problema de verdade nunca é aquele que mais nos tira o fôlego. Paramos de respirar por bobagem.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preciso me livrar das bobagens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2284844257490598196?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2284844257490598196/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2284844257490598196' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2284844257490598196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2284844257490598196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/prioridade.html' title='Prioridade'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7807322852962292912</id><published>2009-09-22T16:54:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T16:59:44.960-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Estranhíssimo</title><content type='html'>Antes, as pessoas morriam e deixavam para trás fotos, cadernos, diários... hoje, as pessoas morrem e deixam blogs e perfis no orkut. E eu não sei o que pensar sobre isso. É algo que me causa um sentimento muito esquisito, entrar na página do orkut de uma pessoa que já não vive mais, e ver fotos, depoimentos, piadas, frases... como se ela estivesse não em outra realidade, mas simplesmente do outro lado da tela, teclando num computador como eu. Sei lá. E dói também. Me faz pensar no que eu quero deixar para trás quando for minha vez de ir embora... sei lá. Acho que eu estou num dia meio melancólico... é esse cinza do lado de fora da janela forçando pra entrar aqui dentro... e a vida é tão frágil...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7807322852962292912?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7807322852962292912/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7807322852962292912' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7807322852962292912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7807322852962292912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/estranhissimo.html' title='Estranhíssimo'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8685182965378923110</id><published>2009-09-20T12:01:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T12:02:32.732-03:00</updated><title type='text'>... umetuká</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SrZEA4h5OjI/AAAAAAAAAXo/e82ozsmsfvo/s1600-h/shana+tova.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SrZEA4h5OjI/AAAAAAAAAXo/e82ozsmsfvo/s400/shana+tova.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383565186533243442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8685182965378923110?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8685182965378923110/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8685182965378923110' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8685182965378923110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8685182965378923110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/umetuka.html' title='... umetuká'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SrZEA4h5OjI/AAAAAAAAAXo/e82ozsmsfvo/s72-c/shana+tova.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-512690610392959805</id><published>2009-09-18T14:46:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T14:47:45.960-03:00</updated><title type='text'>CIRCOlando</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SrPHoT4OuRI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Nb_TFBMNhjQ/s1600-h/CIRCO+DA+CRIA%C3%87%C3%83O.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SrPHoT4OuRI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Nb_TFBMNhjQ/s400/CIRCO+DA+CRIA%C3%87%C3%83O.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382865474982689042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-512690610392959805?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/512690610392959805/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=512690610392959805' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/512690610392959805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/512690610392959805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/circolando.html' title='CIRCOlando'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SrPHoT4OuRI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Nb_TFBMNhjQ/s72-c/CIRCO+DA+CRIA%C3%87%C3%83O.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6865992210368027883</id><published>2009-09-11T15:25:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T15:28:06.111-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough</title><content type='html'>Sei lá. Às vezes eu me pergunto. Me pergunto se vale a pena. Me pergunto se é isso. Me pergunto por que eu faço isso comigo mesma. Me pergunto por que eu sou tão idiota. E sei lá. Ninguém responde. Eu não respondo. Não sei o que é o suficiente. Não sei se estou fazendo o suficiente. Não sei se o que consigo fazer será o suficiente pra conseguir. Não sei conseguir. E é uma merda. Que venha a pontuação...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6865992210368027883?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6865992210368027883/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6865992210368027883' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6865992210368027883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6865992210368027883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/enough.html' title='Enough'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6572285256769599870</id><published>2009-09-05T14:36:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T15:15:34.375-03:00</updated><title type='text'>(r)evoluções</title><content type='html'>.Decidi &lt;a href="http://lookbook.nu/" target="_blank"&gt;me vestir&lt;/a&gt; melhor;&lt;br /&gt;.Decidi &lt;a href="http://www.fulltimeacademia.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;tirar a bunda&lt;/a&gt; da cadeira;&lt;br /&gt;.Decidi &lt;a href="http://folha.uol.com.br" target="_blank"&gt;me ligar&lt;/a&gt; mais no mundo;&lt;br /&gt;.Decidi &lt;a href="http://img133.imageshack.us/img133/3065/risque.jpg" target="blank"&gt;me cuidar&lt;/a&gt; mais;&lt;br /&gt;.Descobri que &lt;a href="http://elle.abril.com.br/" target="blank"&gt;moda&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://www.rollingstone.com.br/" target="blank"&gt;rock&lt;/a&gt; tem tudo a ver;&lt;br /&gt;.Descobri que devo ser &lt;a href="http://img297.imageshack.us/img297/4391/patchc.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;paciente&lt;/a&gt;, antes de ser médica;&lt;br /&gt;.Descobri que não é difícil ser &lt;a href="http://img248.imageshack.us/img248/2179/bumbai.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;feliz&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sei lá... espero descobrir mais coisas antes do ano acabar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6572285256769599870?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6572285256769599870/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6572285256769599870' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6572285256769599870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6572285256769599870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/revolucoes.html' title='(r)evoluções'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2379165552893504292</id><published>2009-09-01T15:28:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T15:32:30.640-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O Grande Circo da Criação</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Quanta gente, quanta alegria&lt;br /&gt;Quanta animação!&lt;br /&gt;Muita história, muita fofoca&lt;br /&gt;Ai que confusão!&lt;br /&gt;Tem paçoca e algodão doce&lt;br /&gt;Risos e balão!&lt;br /&gt;Tem parente, tem descendente&lt;br /&gt;Desde a criação!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disseram que viemos de Adão&lt;br /&gt;Na arca quem mandava era Noé&lt;br /&gt;E no deserto deu bolha no perepepé&lt;br /&gt;Inglês, francês, chinês como é que é?&lt;br /&gt;Mas tem gente que conta outra versão&lt;br /&gt;Pipoca, picadeiro e charlatão&lt;br /&gt;Tropeços, piruetas e um conto de fé&lt;br /&gt;No Circo da Criação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quanta gente, quanta alegria&lt;br /&gt;Quanta animação!&lt;br /&gt;Muita história, muita fofoca&lt;br /&gt;Mas que confusão!&lt;br /&gt;Tem paçoca e algodão doce&lt;br /&gt;Risos e balão!&lt;br /&gt;Tem parente, tem descendente&lt;br /&gt;Desde a criação!&lt;br /&gt;Tem parente, tem descendente&lt;br /&gt;No Circo da Criação!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2379165552893504292?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2379165552893504292/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2379165552893504292' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2379165552893504292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2379165552893504292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/o-grande-circo-da-criacao.html' title='&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;O Grande Circo da Criação&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-6924645571930245324</id><published>2009-08-28T15:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T15:51:01.491-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Contando</title><content type='html'>17 dias&lt;br /&gt;102 aulas&lt;br /&gt;612 horas&lt;br /&gt;pouco sono&lt;br /&gt;muito chocolate&lt;br /&gt;alguma academia&lt;br /&gt;inúmeros ensaios...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78 pontos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sei lá...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-6924645571930245324?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6924645571930245324/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=6924645571930245324' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6924645571930245324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/6924645571930245324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/contando.html' title='Contando'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-7683026896141600511</id><published>2009-08-18T19:41:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T19:47:18.397-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Suando</title><content type='html'>"Estudos recentes apontam que a endorfina pode ter tanto um efeito sobre áreas cerebrais responsáveis pela modulação da dor, do humor, depressão, ansiedade como pela inibição do sistema nervoso simpático (responsável pela modulação de diversos órgãos como coração, intestino etc...). Elas podem também regular a liberação de outros hormônios. Provavelmente parte da capacidade da acupuntura em aliviar a dor seja devida ao estímulo da liberação de endorfinas: uma vez estimulados pelas agulhas nos terminais nervosos é gerado um impulso para aumentar a liberação de neurotransmissores no complexo supressor de dor, ou seja, é produzido o efeito analgésico na região cerebral. O consumo de chocolate e pimenta também estimula a produção de endorfina, que pode também ser liberada após aproximadamente 30 minutos de exercícios físicos aeróbicos, como por exemplo uma leve corrida."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- É claro que comer chocolate com pimenta é muito mais fácil... mas bem menos divertido... ;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-7683026896141600511?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7683026896141600511/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=7683026896141600511' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7683026896141600511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/7683026896141600511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/suando.html' title='Suando'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3791066866994823716</id><published>2009-08-17T16:18:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T16:19:11.900-03:00</updated><title type='text'>yep...</title><content type='html'>Pois é... querendo ou não, certas dúvidas viram certezas...&lt;br /&gt;mas em troca, certas certezas viram dúvidas... &gt;&lt;'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3791066866994823716?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3791066866994823716/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3791066866994823716' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3791066866994823716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3791066866994823716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/yep.html' title='yep...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5422602142377963605</id><published>2009-08-12T22:21:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T22:23:08.230-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tudo começa de um começo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SoNqxZVfxgI/AAAAAAAAAXY/nI_Qjb1Ebmg/s1600-h/sketch.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SoNqxZVfxgI/AAAAAAAAAXY/nI_Qjb1Ebmg/s400/sketch.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369252577602946562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It's only a sketch... for now... ;]&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5422602142377963605?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5422602142377963605/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5422602142377963605' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5422602142377963605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5422602142377963605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/tudo-comeca-de-um-comeco.html' title='Tudo começa de um começo...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SoNqxZVfxgI/AAAAAAAAAXY/nI_Qjb1Ebmg/s72-c/sketch.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-8341255624784864563</id><published>2009-08-11T15:25:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T15:36:09.847-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ser</title><content type='html'>SãoSensaçãoEmoçãoCoração&lt;br /&gt;ExcessãoEstupefaçãoInanição&lt;br /&gt;SemNoçãoAção&lt;br /&gt;Imensidão&lt;br /&gt;Dão&lt;br /&gt;Não&lt;br /&gt;Há&lt;br /&gt;SerSemSentir&lt;br /&gt;OuvirAgirSeguir&lt;br /&gt;Existir&lt;br /&gt;ComCoração&lt;br /&gt;Comparação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nutrição?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-8341255624784864563?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8341255624784864563/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=8341255624784864563' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8341255624784864563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/8341255624784864563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/08/ser.html' title='Ser'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-5183771830282249301</id><published>2009-07-29T02:15:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T02:20:43.481-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Falando sozinha só...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"While the sun hangs in the sky and the desert has sand&lt;br /&gt;While the waves crash in the sea and meet the land&lt;br /&gt;While there's a wind and the stars and the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Till the mountains crumble into the plain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, we'll keep on trying&lt;br /&gt;Tread that fine line&lt;br /&gt;Oh, we'll keep on trying, yeah&lt;br /&gt;Just passing our time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we live according to race, colour or creed&lt;br /&gt;While we rule by blind madness and pure greed&lt;br /&gt;Our lives dictated by tradition, superstition, false religion&lt;br /&gt;Through the eons and on and on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yes, we'll keep on trying, yeah&lt;br /&gt;We'll tread that fine line&lt;br /&gt;Oh oh we'll keep on trying&lt;br /&gt;Till the end of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the sorrow all through our splendour&lt;br /&gt;Don't take offence at my innuendo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can be anything you want to be&lt;br /&gt;Just turn yourself into anything you think that you could ever be&lt;br /&gt;Be free with your tempo, be free, be free&lt;br /&gt;Surrender your ego - be free, be free to yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there's a God or any kind of justice under the sky&lt;br /&gt;If there's a point, if there's a reason to live or die&lt;br /&gt;Ha, if there's an answer to the questions we feel bound to ask&lt;br /&gt;Show yourself - destroy our fears - release your mask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, we'll keep on trying&lt;br /&gt;Hey, tread that fine line, yeah&lt;br /&gt;We'll keep on smiling, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And whatever will be, will be&lt;br /&gt;We'll just keep on trying&lt;br /&gt;Till the end of time"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;i&gt;:: Queen - "Innuendo"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-5183771830282249301?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5183771830282249301/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=5183771830282249301' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5183771830282249301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/5183771830282249301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/07/falando-sozinha-so.html' title='Falando sozinha só...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2394643618292230574</id><published>2009-07-22T01:58:00.010-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T02:21:39.814-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Smac165W4UI/AAAAAAAAAWY/NXbfGatq-go/s1600-h/cerejaa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 349px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Smac165W4UI/AAAAAAAAAWY/NXbfGatq-go/s400/cerejaa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361144856587985218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Minha aparência física reflete minha personalidade; meu corpo é a expressão direta da minha opinião. O corpo é um templo, e todo templo deve ser DECORADO." :: Zaza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmadB3Qe6uI/AAAAAAAAAWg/fuMW7rytdsg/s1600-h/drawing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 328px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmadB3Qe6uI/AAAAAAAAAWg/fuMW7rytdsg/s400/drawing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361145061769669346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tem certas saudades que doem demais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmadZQYVupI/AAAAAAAAAWo/EOqkOLjiiRc/s1600-h/Little_Dancer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmadZQYVupI/AAAAAAAAAWo/EOqkOLjiiRc/s400/Little_Dancer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361145463650499218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quem não dança não se deixa voar. Movimentar o corpo é movimentar a alma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmaeRwf-tvI/AAAAAAAAAWw/TgAwePdJa8s/s1600-h/palco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmaeRwf-tvI/AAAAAAAAAWw/TgAwePdJa8s/s400/palco.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361146434345154290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Atuar é a magia de ver-se existir fora de si mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Smaes-FRjBI/AAAAAAAAAW4/rUePcmKk048/s1600-h/violino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Smaes-FRjBI/AAAAAAAAAW4/rUePcmKk048/s400/violino.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361146901847706642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Não há nada que se pareça mais com os apelos da alma humana quanto o som de um violino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmafqA10sVI/AAAAAAAAAXA/dKdrwOVhfvE/s1600-h/coke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmafqA10sVI/AAAAAAAAAXA/dKdrwOVhfvE/s400/coke.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361147950560227666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You are &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmagN-BS-dI/AAAAAAAAAXI/VzhAQBZ4wq0/s1600-h/galera+da+praia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmagN-BS-dI/AAAAAAAAAXI/VzhAQBZ4wq0/s400/galera+da+praia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361148568278333906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"You're just what I need." Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmahZbVAg7I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/nNCc3OhYoIM/s1600-h/estetoscopio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SmahZbVAg7I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/nNCc3OhYoIM/s400/estetoscopio.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361149864635827122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"De sonhos vivem os seres humanos"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2394643618292230574?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2394643618292230574/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2394643618292230574' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2394643618292230574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2394643618292230574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/07/who-am-i.html' title='Who am I?'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Smac165W4UI/AAAAAAAAAWY/NXbfGatq-go/s72-c/cerejaa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3192267696367027402</id><published>2009-06-26T10:09:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T10:09:36.814-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Farewell, my friend...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SkTIicXnDdI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/gDUEIgkevjg/s1600-h/michael_jackson_110707.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SkTIicXnDdI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/gDUEIgkevjg/s400/michael_jackson_110707.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351622751279320530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3192267696367027402?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3192267696367027402/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3192267696367027402' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3192267696367027402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3192267696367027402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/06/farewell-my-friend.html' title='Farewell, my friend...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/SkTIicXnDdI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/gDUEIgkevjg/s72-c/michael_jackson_110707.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-3493378448528336925</id><published>2009-06-24T15:44:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T16:02:23.281-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Estagnação</title><content type='html'>É culpa dessa angústia estranha, dessa espera do que está pra acontecer depois do que já aconteceu. E pra quê? Por que é que se tem que esperar por algo o tempo todo? Essa espera-bigorna que esmaga, querendo por pés no futuro antes do tempo, e esse tempo de relógio ansioso e triste, que só traz melancolia e conforto nenhum. Horas, dias, aulas, tardes perdidas, noites ganhas. Que raios estou fazendo da minha vida?! Sufoco esperanças sem saber, sem tentar, sem ser. Existe separação entre desejo e esperança? Ambos existem na ausência... e o que é que falta?! Se sabes que não sou deus, se sabes que sou fraco... ainda existe a tortura da vontade de ser o que não se é. Que adianta o mundo ser vasto se nos limitamos a sonhos por vezes inalcançáveis? Como se define o inalcançável? Pés no chão não voam, mas pés no ar não caminham, e sem andar não se sai dessa ausência de movimento e desse aperto na garganta. Que se faz desse apelo sem ouvinte? Apelo pra mim mesma, pra pular fora desse buraco e sair pra luz, que ainda eziste beleza, e ainda existe vida, ainda que fora de si mesma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem um dia disse que a vida não pára, não fez um ano de cursinho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-3493378448528336925?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3493378448528336925/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=3493378448528336925' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3493378448528336925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/3493378448528336925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/06/estagnacao.html' title='Estagnação'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2078669028428801683</id><published>2009-06-09T20:07:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T20:07:37.264-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Seasons of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Si7rMwtd5lI/AAAAAAAAAWI/wXKwKA4--10/s1600-h/notes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 373px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Si7rMwtd5lI/AAAAAAAAAWI/wXKwKA4--10/s400/notes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345468412201920082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2078669028428801683?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2078669028428801683/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2078669028428801683' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2078669028428801683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2078669028428801683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/06/seasons-of-love.html' title='Seasons of Love'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/Si7rMwtd5lI/AAAAAAAAAWI/wXKwKA4--10/s72-c/notes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1790821021843547687.post-2607931991600338895</id><published>2009-06-02T15:23:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T15:27:13.858-03:00</updated><title type='text'>E no mundo dizem que são tantos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="right"&gt;"vivo nas palavras dos outros     &lt;br /&gt;pois que a vida me deixa sem palavras."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1790821021843547687-2607931991600338895?l=twentytimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2607931991600338895/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1790821021843547687&amp;postID=2607931991600338895' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2607931991600338895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1790821021843547687/posts/default/2607931991600338895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twentytimes.blogspot.com/2009/06/e-no-mundo-dizem-que-sao-tantos.html' title='E no mundo dizem que são tantos...'/><author><name>Hana ^^</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291148917992246113</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4BWr5PDitTY/TLZ3lYoI3nI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/LlguR5R9oH4/S220/P1040117.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
