<?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-7488926537353721037</id><updated>2011-07-31T03:52:05.971-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Considerações Finais</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-4852359779287776489</id><published>2009-09-20T18:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T18:41:54.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem tempo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SrbZ18hwopI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/YUteZNE_Tnk/s1600-h/relogio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 259px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SrbZ18hwopI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/YUteZNE_Tnk/s320/relogio.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383729925372027538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-4852359779287776489?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/4852359779287776489/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/sem-tempo.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4852359779287776489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4852359779287776489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/sem-tempo.html' title='Sem tempo...'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SrbZ18hwopI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/YUteZNE_Tnk/s72-c/relogio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8766249526253794574</id><published>2009-09-14T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T17:49:52.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (8)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sq7bJuehYYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/KowZf-fAOGg/s1600-h/40760875_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sq7bJuehYYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/KowZf-fAOGg/s320/40760875_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381479564895674754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;De repente, um clarão e simultaneamente a um estouro ensurdecedor. Um raio atingira a caixa de energia da boate. Faíscas como fogos de artifícios formaram uma cortina no estreito beco. E ele lá, parado na entrada do beco. Liah paralisada, com medo daquela imagem macabra que acabara de ver em seus sonhos. Como que em câmera lenta, num movimento lúdico, ele se desvencilhou da capa, ergueu sem punho esquerdo. Contra as faíscas reluzentes, um objeto refletia o seu brilho. Um estouro mais forte e Liah cobriu o rosto, protegendo os olhos. Quando ergueu os rosto, só deu tempo de ver parte da capa desaparecendo pelo beco. Liah se levantou e ouviu vozes se aproximando de dentro da boate, correu pra saída do beco, mas não sem antes ver algo brilhando no chão. Liah nem parou pra ver o que era, se abaixou rapidamente, agarrou o objeto e continuou correndo. Alguns metros depois, encharcada pela chuva e quase sem fôlego, Liah parou um pouco, segurava com força o objeto em sua mão. Havia medo em seu olhar. Já não sabia dizer o que era realidade ou sonho. Olhava pra sua mão fechada, uma corrente pendia entre seus dedos. Lentamente ela abriu a mão e quase não acreditou no que viu. O pingente era uma espécie de estrela celta, numa corrente de prata que Burt nunca tirava do pescoço. "Meu Deus! Burt?" Lia correu de volta para o apartamento dele, temendo pelo pior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8766249526253794574?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8766249526253794574/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/de-repente-um-clarao-e-simultaneamente.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8766249526253794574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8766249526253794574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/de-repente-um-clarao-e-simultaneamente.html' title='Liah (8)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sq7bJuehYYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/KowZf-fAOGg/s72-c/40760875_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7699602296600564648</id><published>2009-09-08T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T18:18:21.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (7)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sqb7dbJpLcI/AAAAAAAAAVA/Sf3OgLoeqRs/s1600-h/liah7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sqb7dbJpLcI/AAAAAAAAAVA/Sf3OgLoeqRs/s320/liah7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379263287863619010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Liah corria por uma rua escura, estava chovendo muito e ela mal consegui enxergar o que vinha pela frente. Apesar dos trovões ela ouvia claramente os passos de quem vinha logo atras dela. Um vulto grande e medonho que se aproximava dela. Quando percebeu estava no beco atras da boate, sem saída, a porta dos fundos fechada, não tinha pra onde correr. Ele se aproximava devagar e parecia flutuar pelo chão praticamente alagado pela forte chuva. Suas costas tocaram a parede e ele chegou mais perto, abriu a pesada capa de chuva e tirou algo brilhante do bolso. O reflexo do relâmpago no objeto cegou Liah por um segundo e quando ela olhou novamente, ele já não estava lá. De um salto Liah acordou e quase caiu do sofá da de Burt, tão sem fôlego como se realmente estivesse correndo pela chuva. Eram quase 3 da manhã e ela não conseguiria mais dormir naquela noite. Brut dormia pesado no quarto e Liah perambulou um pouco pelo apartamento. Mas algo a incomodava, precisava voltar lá. "O sonho parecia tão real. E se for uma pista?" Saiu pela rua sozinha e como se fosse combinado, uma forte chuva começou a cair. A boate ficava a umas 3 quadras do apartamento. A rua principal estava vazia e poucos carros passavam por ali naquela hora. Chegando próximo a boate, um relâmpago cortou o céu tornando a noite clara como dia. Alguém se aproximava. Liah apressou os passos e quando deu por si, estava num flashback terrível. No beco, atras da boate, encurralada. Forçou a porta dos fundos e estava fechada. Ouviu que alguém se aproximar. Um homem alto, com um chapéu e capa de chuva. Procurava algo pra se defender, mas não havia nada. Ele ficou parado na entrada do beco. Liah não sabia o que fazer. "O criminoso sempre volta ao local do crime" pensou ela. "mas seria ele ou eu?".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7699602296600564648?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7699602296600564648/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/liah-corria-por-uma-rua-escura-estava.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7699602296600564648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7699602296600564648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/liah-corria-por-uma-rua-escura-estava.html' title='Liah (7)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sqb7dbJpLcI/AAAAAAAAAVA/Sf3OgLoeqRs/s72-c/liah7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3575440078089009196</id><published>2009-09-03T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T18:40:28.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SqBwBYj-r-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/3F1pbNl6DDo/s1600-h/revendoconceitos_bomferiadao.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SqBwBYj-r-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/3F1pbNl6DDo/s320/revendoconceitos_bomferiadao.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377421124155912162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3575440078089009196?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3575440078089009196/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3575440078089009196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3575440078089009196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SqBwBYj-r-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/3F1pbNl6DDo/s72-c/revendoconceitos_bomferiadao.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6333302539825020464</id><published>2009-09-02T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T17:34:07.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (6)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sp8NtVROvhI/AAAAAAAAAUg/sUDpHVeXgxY/s1600-h/woman-sleeping-sofa_%7Egs369044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sp8NtVROvhI/AAAAAAAAAUg/sUDpHVeXgxY/s320/woman-sleeping-sofa_%7Egs369044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377031552558349842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pouco antes das onze chegaram no apartamento de Burt. Um loft no centro, com um estilo retrô bastante sofisticado. 'Típico de um solteirão bem sucedido' pensou Liah. Não havia nenhum movimento estranho por perto, então estavam a salvo. A polícia também não sabia da ligação entre eles. Burt contou que o crime deve ter ocorrido ente 5 e 6 horas da manhã. Mas Liah não fazia idéia da hora que saiu da boate. Liah se lembrava de ter conversado com alguém no mezanino, e depois... depois tudo era muito vago. 'Quem era ele?' Mas Burt só ouviu da polícia seu nome: Nuñez. Aquele nome não lhe lembrava nada. 'Já saí com alguns latinos antes, mas Nuñez...'. Ele preparou um café e tirou uma pizza da geladeira. 'Tem alguém que você queira ligar, algum lugar pra ir?' Liah vivia sozinha desde os 17 anos. Pulando de casa em casa de amigos sempre que algo dava errado. Trabalhava numa loja de discos onde ganhava o que dava pro aluguel e fazia alguns bicos como hostess. Da família ela não sabia faz tempo. Alguns ex-namorados, mas nada que valesse a pena. 'Não, tudo bem'. Antes que Burt pegasse a pizza e servisse o café, Liah já estava dormindo no sofá. Ele a cobriu e deixou que descansasse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6333302539825020464?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6333302539825020464/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/pouco-antes-das-onze-chegaram-no.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6333302539825020464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6333302539825020464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/09/pouco-antes-das-onze-chegaram-no.html' title='Liah (6)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sp8NtVROvhI/AAAAAAAAAUg/sUDpHVeXgxY/s72-c/woman-sleeping-sofa_%7Egs369044.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8091185849691350083</id><published>2009-08-31T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T17:56:04.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (5)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spxvq7YMp7I/AAAAAAAAAUY/Velb3OwWL30/s1600-h/taxi2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spxvq7YMp7I/AAAAAAAAAUY/Velb3OwWL30/s320/taxi2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376294838457903026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'Rápido! Vou te tirar daqui'. Ela nem olhou quem era. Ele a agarrou pelo braço e entraram numa viela que dava nos fundos de um restaurante chinês. Entraram pela porta de serviço, despistando os policiais. Sábado a noite, restaurante lotado. Facilmente eles conseguiram atravessar a cozinha e o salão chegar até a rua. Entraram num taxi que  estava parado ali e seguiram pro centro da cidade. Seu salvador era Burt. Dono da boate e amigo de longa data. Liah já frequentava 'Black Cherry' antes de Burt comprá-la. Ele costumava dizer que ela veio com a mobilha. Se tornaram amigos desde então. Foi um dos funcionários de Burt quem achou o cara morto quando foi colocar o lixo pra fora. E quando a polícia achou o celular de Liah junto ao corpo, ela sabia que ela estava encrencada. 'Enfiaram uma faca na barriga dele, mas não acharam a arma e nem muitas pistas. Só você' Burt sabia que ela não poderia ter feito aquilo. Não entendia bem o porque, mas sabia. Liah contou não se lembrar de muita coisa do cara, além da tatuagem e que não sabia como tinha ido embora. Seguiram para o apartamento de Burt. Já era tarde e ela não podia voltar pra casa. Liah estava meio atordoada, sem entender direito tudo o que estava acontecendo. Mas sabia que estava segura com Burt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8091185849691350083?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8091185849691350083/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/rapido-vou-te-tirar-daqui.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8091185849691350083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8091185849691350083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/rapido-vou-te-tirar-daqui.html' title='Liah (5)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spxvq7YMp7I/AAAAAAAAAUY/Velb3OwWL30/s72-c/taxi2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-9104720063108038256</id><published>2009-08-30T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T15:28:26.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (4)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spr1kp3cuOI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/i6s8oHzUs2k/s1600-h/liah4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spr1kp3cuOI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/i6s8oHzUs2k/s320/liah4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375879115282626786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Aquelas duas quadras nunca foram tão longas, ela ia quase correndo pela calçada, mas não chegava nunca em casa. Tentava refazer seus passos de ontem. Boate, bar, pista, banheiro, bar, mezanino... 'fiquei lá um bom tempo, quase até a hora de ir embora'... mas não conseguia se lembrar do cara. O tal beco, ela sabia, era na saída dos fundos da boate, já tinha ido pra lá algumas vezes. Mas com quem ela foi ontem a noite? Quem era o cara com a tatuagem de caveira? 'Vai ver é até outra pessoa que morreu e eu cheia de neura'. Mas era estranho, na hora em que a mulher mencionou o fato, um arrepio percorreu o corpo de Liah. Tinha algo de errado. Quando chegou na esquina de casa, viu um carro da polícia na porta do seu prédio. Ela congelou por alguns estantes. Se abaixou perto de um muro de jeito que um carro bloqueasse a visão de quem estivesse na porta do prédio, e pode se aproximar mais um pouco. Ouviu um dos policiais perguntando por ela ao porteiro e ele indicando a direção por onde havia seguido. A sacola do mercado caiu no chão, quebrando a garrafa de vodka. O barulho chamou a atenção do policiais. Foi quando ela sentiu uma mão no seu ombro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-9104720063108038256?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/9104720063108038256/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/aquelas-duas-quadras-nunca-foram-tao.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/9104720063108038256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/9104720063108038256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/aquelas-duas-quadras-nunca-foram-tao.html' title='Liah (4)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spr1kp3cuOI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/i6s8oHzUs2k/s72-c/liah4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6429451639859363862</id><published>2009-08-27T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T17:06:31.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (3)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spcev1u2nCI/AAAAAAAAAT8/Tao8weIR-t4/s1600-h/liah3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spcev1u2nCI/AAAAAAAAAT8/Tao8weIR-t4/s320/liah3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374798487516257314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Não mais que 3 minutos no banho, uma roupa que estava jogada na cadeira, alguns trocados da bolsa e ela desce os 2 lances de escada do seu prédio. Deu de cara com a noite mas não tirou os óculos escuros. Estranho pra um sábado, mas a rua estava vazia. Procurou o celular nos bolsos e não o achou. Na verdade não lembrava dele em casa também. 'Quando voltar eu procuro'. Há duas quadras havia um supermercado. Aspirinas, pão, queijo, suco de laranja, cigarros e uma garrafa de vodka. Na fila uma velha gorda comentava com a caixa sobre um cara encontrado morto no bairro. 'A culpa é desses jovens drogados e delinquentes', e a olhou de lado. Pensou em começar uma discussão, mas algo que ela disse chamou a atenção. 'Disseram que era um rapaz bonito, jovem, mas tinha uma caveira tatuada no pescoço'. Como um déjà vu, uma cena veio a cabeça: um beco escuro, braços fortes, beijos quentes e uma caveira no pescoço... mas quem era ele? Pagou as compras e voltou com passos rápidos pra casa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6429451639859363862?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6429451639859363862/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/nao-mais-que-3-minutos-no-banho-uma.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6429451639859363862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6429451639859363862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/nao-mais-que-3-minutos-no-banho-uma.html' title='Liah (3)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Spcev1u2nCI/AAAAAAAAAT8/Tao8weIR-t4/s72-c/liah3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3604120255345891815</id><published>2009-08-26T16:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T16:24:01.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpXCvUjFWWI/AAAAAAAAAT0/9KGmCN3dQ7o/s1600-h/ressacay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpXCvUjFWWI/AAAAAAAAAT0/9KGmCN3dQ7o/s320/ressacay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374415848562055522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela foi direto para o bar. Uma tequila e duas cervejas depois ela tomou conta da pista. Ela se esforça mas mal consegue se lembrar de que beijou um negro na pista e uma loira no banheiro. Ela sorri... 'ainda bem que não sou racista' ela pensa. Mas e a volta pra casa? E o final da noite? Quanto mais ela se esforça pra lembrar, mais sua cabeça dói. Ela vai até a geladeira e enche uma caneca com coca-cola. Volta pra cama, deita de bruços e se cobre com o edredom. Arranca a roupa de ontem e joga no chão. Como fede a cigarro. Mais uma vez o estômago embrulha. Ela toma um gole do refrigerante e cobre a cabeça. O sol começa a bater na sua janela e a luz quase a cega. Agora já são mais de 17hrs. Ela percebe que o sol vai se pôr logo pelo tom alaranjado através da cortina.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;  Ela fuça entre a geladeira e os armários procurando algo pra comer. Nada. 'Há quanto tempo não vou ao mercado' ela pragueja.  E resolve sair de casa pra comprar algo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3604120255345891815?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3604120255345891815/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/ela-foi-direto-para-o-bar.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3604120255345891815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3604120255345891815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/ela-foi-direto-para-o-bar.html' title='Liah (2)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpXCvUjFWWI/AAAAAAAAAT0/9KGmCN3dQ7o/s72-c/ressacay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-716777896961716314</id><published>2009-08-25T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T16:20:42.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liah (1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpR1-qSh38I/AAAAAAAAATs/_pHmU_2v6FI/s1600-h/marioncotillardft0.0.0.0x0.350x510.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpR1-qSh38I/AAAAAAAAATs/_pHmU_2v6FI/s320/marioncotillardft0.0.0.0x0.350x510.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374049974724190146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Um barulho vindo do corredor acaba por acordá-la. Já passam das 15, mas ela não tem noção da hora. Quando ela tenta se sentar na cama, a cabeça gira e o estômago se contorce. Mal dá tempo de cambalear até o banheiro, e se jogando de joelhos com a cara no do vaso, qualquer coisa que ela tenha bebido, sai num único jato. O gosto é horrível e a aparência pior. Ela levanta e vai até pia onde se encara no espelho. A maquiagem borrada, os hematomas no pescoço, o cabelo desgrenhado e roupa de ontem denunciam que a noite foi longe demais. Lava-se a boca e o rosto. O olhos ficam mais borrados de preto. Ela tenta lembrar... i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;magens confusas, conversas estranhas, alguns flashs sem ligação. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ela se joga na cama e fita o teto, mas não consegue lembrar de como chegou em casa. Só de como chegou na boate. Devia ser 1hr da manhã e a casa estava lotada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(continua...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-716777896961716314?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/716777896961716314/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/um-barulho-vindo-do-corredor-acaba-por.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/716777896961716314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/716777896961716314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/um-barulho-vindo-do-corredor-acaba-por.html' title='Liah (1)'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpR1-qSh38I/AAAAAAAAATs/_pHmU_2v6FI/s72-c/marioncotillardft0.0.0.0x0.350x510.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-5526162759968330073</id><published>2009-08-24T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T17:05:23.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpMjk5K4TcI/AAAAAAAAATM/f6ThF1TwpYk/s1600-h/fio+de+fone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpMjk5K4TcI/AAAAAAAAATM/f6ThF1TwpYk/s320/fio+de+fone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373677897111850434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Todos os dias quando entro no ônibus pra ir ou voltar do trabalho, realizo o mesmo ritual: abro a bolsa, pego meu celular e ponho no colo e tiro um pequeno emaranhado de fios. Então começo a 'desemaranha-lo'. Um pequeno ritual que não leva mais que 2 minutos. Depois conecta-se um dos lados no celular, fones nos ouvidos, dou o play e sigo cantarolando muda até meu destino. Quando observo ao redor, percebo que várias pessoas realizam esse ritual. Andando pelas rual você pode ver muitas pessoas com seus fones de ouvido, falando ao celular com suas mãos livres ou simplesmente ouvindo música. No meio de uma grande cidade, em pleno horário do hush, quantas pessoas será que estão 'ligadas' a seus fones de ouvido? E se um meteoro cai na terra nesse momento e extingue toda a raça humana? Se alguns séculos depois, novos habitantes ou extra-terrestres encontrem nossos fósseis e comecem a nos pesquisar para saber que raça era aquela, quais seu hábitos e costumes? Seria muito interessante vê-los escavando o centro do Rio ou Nova York, encontrando esqueletos ligados a pequenas maquinas e a fios na altura do crânio. (Pensem bem, seriam milhares de fósseis na mesma situação!) Alguns tipo de combustível vital? Dutos para alimentação? Iam achar que nós eramos máquinas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Ai ai... quanta viagem!!! Um pouco de besteirol às vezes faz bem!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-5526162759968330073?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/5526162759968330073/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/todos-os-dias-quando-entro-no-onibus.html#comment-form' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5526162759968330073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5526162759968330073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/todos-os-dias-quando-entro-no-onibus.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpMjk5K4TcI/AAAAAAAAATM/f6ThF1TwpYk/s72-c/fio+de+fone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8518726255164300792</id><published>2009-08-23T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T19:22:17.761-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpH4_D4w1TI/AAAAAAAAATE/UL-mAbcWNhs/s1600-h/BuddyPoke.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpH4_D4w1TI/AAAAAAAAATE/UL-mAbcWNhs/s320/BuddyPoke.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373349592688547122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Eu gostaria de ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Essa tristeza passar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Um novo samba compor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Um novo amor encontrar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas a tristeza é tão grande no meu peito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Não sei pra que a gente fica desse jeito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Salve Paulinho da Viola!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8518726255164300792?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8518726255164300792/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-gostaria-de-ver-essa-tristeza-passar.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8518726255164300792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8518726255164300792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-gostaria-de-ver-essa-tristeza-passar.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpH4_D4w1TI/AAAAAAAAATE/UL-mAbcWNhs/s72-c/BuddyPoke.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-4306280250146652985</id><published>2009-08-22T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T19:14:37.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpCbUS1f4BI/AAAAAAAAASk/1DdLaJW2ePU/s1600-h/arco-iris.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpCbUS1f4BI/AAAAAAAAASk/1DdLaJW2ePU/s320/arco-iris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372965128408915986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Mais uma história sem final feliz... Eu queria saber o ponto exato onde tudo dá errado pra tentar consertar. Mais um sábado frio e solitário. Cansada disso. Mas antes só do que mal acompanhada, pelo menos isso eu aprendi! Há de se tirar uma lição de tudo na vida, não é verdade? Mas quantas lições eu ainda tenho que aprender? Quantas caras eu vou ter que quebrar? Em quantos pedaços meu coração ainda será partido? Quantas vezes eu ainda vou acreditar? Em quantos planos eu ainda vou investir? Em quantos sonhos eu ainda vou ter fé? Eu só queria que as coisas finalmente acontecessem. Tentar entender agora é inútil. Amanhã é um novo dia e se o fim de semana não foi como eu esperava, tenho uma semana inteira pela frente e a qualquer minuto minha vida pode mudar. Balanço... mas não caio!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Essa música levanta até defunto!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tDK5kvK5m1M&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tDK5kvK5m1M&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-4306280250146652985?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/4306280250146652985/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/sera-que-o-que-falta-e-sorte.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4306280250146652985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4306280250146652985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/sera-que-o-que-falta-e-sorte.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SpCbUS1f4BI/AAAAAAAAASk/1DdLaJW2ePU/s72-c/arco-iris.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-767887717561821717</id><published>2009-08-21T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T15:57:18.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O telefone tocou novamente. Fui atender e não era...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/So8lZf8ZZLI/AAAAAAAAASU/lyGYwufiog0/s1600-h/mulher+ao+telefone+II...50x70cm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/So8lZf8ZZLI/AAAAAAAAASU/lyGYwufiog0/s320/mulher+ao+telefone+II...50x70cm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372554000478069938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;E eu me vejo novamente na passiva posição de esperar o telefone tocar. E ele toca, mas não é pra mim. Ligar ou não ligar? Esse congresso interno na minha cabeça não chega a conclusão alguma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;E ele toca, mas não é ele. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Não quero parecer desesperada, ligando pra cobrar um primeiro encontro e também não quero parecer que não estou nem aí, deixando que apenas ele me procure. Ligar ou não ligar? Uma mensagem talvez? O fim de semana mal começou, ainda há tempo. A sexta-feira mal começou, ainda há tempo. O pior é que o tempo mudou e chuva fina associada ao vento frio podem levar minha chance pra longe... Ligar ou não ligar? Uma mensagem mencionando o tempo? Ainda é cedo, ainda há tempo. Vem cá, com quanto tempo de antecedência um cara liga pra marcar um encontro (primeiro encontro, heim?) Mulher que é ansiosa pra essas coisas né? E homem gosta do jogo da conquista, ter as rédeas da situação. Tô me precipitando? Melhor esperar, né? Ligar ou não ligar? Uma mensagem de boa noite antes de dormir talvez?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-767887717561821717?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/767887717561821717/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-telefone-tocou-novamente-fui-atender.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/767887717561821717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/767887717561821717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-telefone-tocou-novamente-fui-atender.html' title='O telefone tocou novamente. Fui atender e não era...'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/So8lZf8ZZLI/AAAAAAAAASU/lyGYwufiog0/s72-c/mulher+ao+telefone+II...50x70cm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-4853190668209151249</id><published>2009-08-20T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T18:35:27.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/So35gu5aVQI/AAAAAAAAAR8/KJ01GyOC4Vw/s1600-h/call-centere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/So35gu5aVQI/AAAAAAAAAR8/KJ01GyOC4Vw/s320/call-centere.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372224271262831874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu conto até 10 todos os dias. Acho que se eu convertesse em Dirhans, poderia construir minha própria Dubai. Eu queria ser uma pessoa escrota o suficiente pra mandar ir tomar no cú todo mundo que me irritasse com seus probleminhas medíocres &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(porque o dos outros são sempre probleminhas)&lt;/span&gt;, suas grosserias vazias, sua ignorância, irônias, lamentações, disse-me-disse, fofocas... O tarbalhao não, mas o ambiente de trabalho tem dias que me mata! Niguém gosta de levantar cedo, com frio, pegar ônibus, engarrafamento, pedir café e levar café-com-leite, ter reunião marcada antes do horário de trabalho, atender por 6hrs seguidas clientes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(que na sua maioria)&lt;/span&gt; são uns grossos, ter 20min pra almoçar e uma pressão enorme na cabeça de ter uma meta pra bater até o final do dia. A diferença, é como você lida com isso. Se eu sair por aí distribuindo caras azedas pra tudo que é lado, a coisa piora muito! Eu posso soar como uma "conformada" agora, mas o que não tem remédio, remediado está! Sem trabalho eu não posso ficar, e pra continuar trabalhando tenho que engolir alguns sapos! C'est la vie! Ou eu aguento ou enlouqueço. Sorriso na voz baby, sorriso na voz...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-4853190668209151249?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/4853190668209151249/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-conto-ate-10-todos-os-dias.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4853190668209151249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4853190668209151249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-conto-ate-10-todos-os-dias.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/So35gu5aVQI/AAAAAAAAAR8/KJ01GyOC4Vw/s72-c/call-centere.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6137670917653747606</id><published>2009-08-19T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T17:23:34.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" 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src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6137670917653747606?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6137670917653747606/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/publicar-postagem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6137670917653747606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6137670917653747606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/publicar-postagem.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoyXXB2LvVI/AAAAAAAAAR0/VUJOzBUSU24/s72-c/raul-seixas_311.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7243072623908130095</id><published>2009-08-19T17:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T17:02:58.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"Vê se entende, olha o meu sapato novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Minha calça colorida o meu novo way of life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Estou tão lindo porém bem mais perigoso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Aprendi a ficar quieto e começar tudo de novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O que eu quero, eu vou conseguir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O que eu quero, eu vou conseguir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pois quando eu quero todos querem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Quando eu quero todo mundo pede mais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;E pede bis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu tinha medo do seu medo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;do que eu faço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Medo de cair no laço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;que você me preparou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu tinha medo de ter que dormir mais cedo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;numa cama que eu não gosto só porque você mandou...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Você é forte mais eu sou muito mais lindo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O meu cinto cintilante, a minha bota, o meu boné&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Não tenho pressa, tenho muita paciência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Na esquina da falência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;que eu te pego pelo pé&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Olha o meu charme, minha túnica, meu terno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu sou o anjo do inferno que chegou pra lhe buscar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu vim de longe, vim de uma metamorfose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Numa nuvem de poeira que pintou pra lhe pegar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Você é forte, faz o que deseja e quer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Mas se assusta com o que eu faço, isso eu já posso ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;E foi com isso justamente que eu vi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Maravilhoso, eu aprendi que eu sou mais forte que você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O que eu quero, eu vou conseguir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O que eu quero, eu vou conseguir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pois quando eu quero todos querem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Quando eu quero todo mundo pede mais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;E pede bis, e pede mais..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7243072623908130095?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7243072623908130095/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/ve-se-entende-olha-o-meu-sapato-novo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7243072623908130095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7243072623908130095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/ve-se-entende-olha-o-meu-sapato-novo.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6524004196241053731</id><published>2009-08-18T15:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T16:49:42.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SosxntuF0hI/AAAAAAAAARs/YCvkzt5mrR4/s1600-h/1250603443052_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SosxntuF0hI/AAAAAAAAARs/YCvkzt5mrR4/s320/1250603443052_f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371441538927022610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Tem dias que dá mesmo vontade de me enfiar embaixo das cobertas e não sair nunca mais! Mas quanto mais eu penso, mais eu sonho, mais eu me iludo, mais eu espero...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Foi muita esperança pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muita expectativa pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muito alarde pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muita tempestade pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muito barulho pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muito entusiasmo pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muita vontade pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muita sede pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muito desejo pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;muito anseio pra pouca coisa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Foi pouca coisa e eu esperando demais (como sempre).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Criar expectativa demais é um passo pra decepção"&lt;/span&gt; foi o que me disseram hoje e eu mesma completo: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"um passo enooooooorme!!! na verdade... um belo de um tombo!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Será que vou estar sempre fadada a isso? A ter ao alcance das mãos só pra assistir se afastar de mim? Juro que eu tento analisar, mas não acho lógica. Vai ver existe mesmo um destino traçado, e não há nada que eu possa fazer pra mudar um futuro, que a julgar pelo presente, será bastante cruel comigo. Makytub? Foda-se! Eu não acredito nisso. Mas juro que queria uma receita, daquelas caseira e eficazes contra a ilusão (ou desilusão). Whatever...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6524004196241053731?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6524004196241053731/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post_18.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6524004196241053731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6524004196241053731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post_18.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SosxntuF0hI/AAAAAAAAARs/YCvkzt5mrR4/s72-c/1250603443052_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-465800240723705861</id><published>2009-08-17T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T16:47:23.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sonr8GgPgSI/AAAAAAAAARk/5b3HWRUkNt0/s1600-h/__sleeping_beauty__3_by_matchstickgirl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sonr8GgPgSI/AAAAAAAAARk/5b3HWRUkNt0/s320/__sleeping_beauty__3_by_matchstickgirl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371083448386552098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Quando você já não quer mais se conformar, parece não haver 'porque' que justifique acontecimentos em nossa vida. Tudo poderia ser tão mais simples, sem rodeios, sem sofrimentos, sem contratempos. Mas sempre há pedras no caminho, dificuldades ou imprevisibilidades tão loucas que não tem jeito, sou obrigada a perguntar: o que foi que eu fiz pra merecer isso? Ou o que eu fiz pra não merecer? Ou o que deixei de fazer?! Dessa vez foi tirar doce da boca de criança. Eu sei que ainda pode ser que seja, mas tudo isso é tão desanimador... não quero perder o entusiasmo e ao mesmo tempo não sei se realmente vale a pena manter o pique. Essa minha dúvida é tão idiota quanto essa angústia. Eu disse que queria tudo, com todos os prós e contras. E ainda quero. Mas porque todo esse desespero? E porque toda essa dificuldade? Isso me faz mal, isso me deixa doente fisicamente. Ontem fui dormir chorando, com pena de mim mesma por ser tão sonhadora e tão idiota. "Quanto maior a expectativa, maior a queda", foi o que me disseram. E é verdade. A gente chora por amor, chora por um amor não correspondido, mas se lamentar por um amor que ainda não existe? Que pode nem vir a existir?! Isso é loucura. É tipico de quem procura um amor desesperadamente. É o tipo de neura que só existe em cabeça de mulher, ou será que só exite na cabeça dessa mulher que vos escreve? Bem, não sei. Sei que hoje acordei mal e não fui trabalhar. A barriga dói, o estômago dá voltas e a cabeça parece que vai explodir. Levantei, tomei um banho, me vesti pro trabalho e voltei pra cama. A minha intuição &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;(ou sexto sentido)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; me avisou pra não sair de casa ontem e foi o certo, não vou ignorá-la hoje. Melhoras pra mim. No plano físico e psicológico.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-465800240723705861?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/465800240723705861/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/quando-voce-ja-nao-quer-mais-se_17.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/465800240723705861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/465800240723705861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/quando-voce-ja-nao-quer-mais-se_17.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sonr8GgPgSI/AAAAAAAAARk/5b3HWRUkNt0/s72-c/__sleeping_beauty__3_by_matchstickgirl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-984299551937791836</id><published>2009-08-17T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T16:46:05.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SonrqmZ_LiI/AAAAAAAAARc/iouN__6_Q2k/s1600-h/normal_1151_estrada_do_amanhecer-707769.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SonrqmZ_LiI/AAAAAAAAARc/iouN__6_Q2k/s320/normal_1151_estrada_do_amanhecer-707769.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371083147712605730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Quando a minha estrada parecia que ia endireitar, aparece uma curva no meu caminho. Mas curvas não mudam o caminho, só fazem com que a gente desacelere um pouco e em muitos casos isso é bom. A pressa é inimiga da perfeição. Um ditado velho, mas muito bem aplicado. Muita ansiedade, muita expectativa, muita pressa. Tudo isso parece que te impulsiona, mas na verdade, não te leva a lugar algum. Me sinto meio peru-tonto sabe? Ciscando de um lado pro outro, mas sem sair do lugar! Aí, quando por algum motivo, a gente é obrigado a frear, parece que as coisas entram nos eixos, ficam mais claras e dá pra pensar um pouco melhor e com calma. Segura o volante com firmeza, passa a marcha certa, pisa no pedal e depois da curva, a gente acelera com mais segurança e segue em frente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;A vida sempre segue, mas no seu ritmo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-984299551937791836?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/984299551937791836/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/quando-minha-estrada-parecia-que-ia_17.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/984299551937791836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/984299551937791836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/quando-minha-estrada-parecia-que-ia_17.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SonrqmZ_LiI/AAAAAAAAARc/iouN__6_Q2k/s72-c/normal_1151_estrada_do_amanhecer-707769.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1046246005587150933</id><published>2009-08-14T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:56:25.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoX5ouF2HII/AAAAAAAAAQ8/ZEpCAJ0gZZY/s1600-h/Brian_Klutch_Getty_Image.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoX5ouF2HII/AAAAAAAAAQ8/ZEpCAJ0gZZY/s320/Brian_Klutch_Getty_Image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369972608671816834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1046246005587150933?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1046246005587150933/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1046246005587150933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1046246005587150933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoX5ouF2HII/AAAAAAAAAQ8/ZEpCAJ0gZZY/s72-c/Brian_Klutch_Getty_Image.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-5375502314508562716</id><published>2009-08-13T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T17:01:23.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoSnOqwSpZI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/ER6mOfVrsCY/s1600-h/pin_up_on_phone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoSnOqwSpZI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/ER6mOfVrsCY/s320/pin_up_on_phone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369600526169318802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu ia falar sobre um monte de confusões sentimentais pelas quais meu coração passou recentemente. Ia falar de alguém que hoje me despertou um sentimento que eu nunca imaginei que sentiria por ele: pena. Eu ia falar de coisas que já não me importam mais... Porque o que realmente importa pra mim hoje é que ele me ligou ontem. Sim... alguém novo na minha vida e que me desperta uma série de velhas-novas sensações, algumas que eu até já havia esquecido. Juro... eu havia me esquecido de como é bom receber um telefonema antes de dormir, ouvir uma mínima palavra de carinho que seja, jogar conversa fora, ficar sem assunto e marcar o 'primeiro encontro'. É, eu tinha me esquecido do prazer da conquista, de pensar em que roupa vestir, de ficar ansiosa em tentar imaginar como vai ser a noite de amanhã e de custar a dormir pensando em tudo isso. Dá medo. Mas é um medinho bom, aquela clássica mistura de ansiedade+curiosidade+novidade+expectativa. Tô curtindo muito isso, há tempos que eu não passo por essa 'experiência'. Ai ai... se me distraio, até me pego suspirando! Pode não dar em nada, como pode dar um muita coisa! Se eu não tentar, eu nunca vou saber. e eu vou tentar do jeito certo dessa vez. Bem, fichas na mesa, apostas feitas e meu propósito está firme! Tô agradecendo a Deus pela chance e pedindo tanto a Ele que dê certo! Minha cabeça tá a mil, eu sei que minhas expectativas estão pulando dentro de mim feito pipoca! Mas sinceramente: foda-se! Vou esperar por tudo sim! Vou esperar pelo melhor! E vou me emprenhar para que o melhor aconteça! Ah se vou!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Hoje ouvi essa música e cara, percebi por quanto tempo eu fiquei nessa de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Restos e sobras, porta dos fundos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Senhas secretas, sonhos ocultos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Fugas, mentiras, culpas e falhas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Muita espera pra pouca migalha"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Chega, né? Eu quero muito mais... eu mereço muito mais!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;SORTE PRA  MIM!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-5375502314508562716?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/5375502314508562716/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-ia-falar-sobre-um-monte-de-confusoes.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5375502314508562716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5375502314508562716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-ia-falar-sobre-um-monte-de-confusoes.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoSnOqwSpZI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/ER6mOfVrsCY/s72-c/pin_up_on_phone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8196365496651097522</id><published>2009-08-12T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T15:55:34.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoNIVrOhRuI/AAAAAAAAAQs/eK0RvXOvkuU/s1600-h/1036949315_g-pinup-13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoNIVrOhRuI/AAAAAAAAAQs/eK0RvXOvkuU/s320/1036949315_g-pinup-13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369214717973841634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero... eu quero muito... eu quero mesmo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero com todos os prós e contras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero passar por tudo de novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero passar por tudo o que é novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero naturalmente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero sem pressa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero descobrir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero redescobrir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero que dê certo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero que seja pra valer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero que único&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero que seja recíproco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero rir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero chorar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero morrer de ciúmes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero morrer de amores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero perder a cabeça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero sonhar acordada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero suspirar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero perder o folego&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero sentir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero sentir de novo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero sentir o que é novo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ah... eu quero!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8196365496651097522?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8196365496651097522/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-quero.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8196365496651097522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8196365496651097522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-quero.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SoNIVrOhRuI/AAAAAAAAAQs/eK0RvXOvkuU/s72-c/1036949315_g-pinup-13.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6660096296609354856</id><published>2009-08-09T03:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T03:17:49.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sn6iGknGaXI/AAAAAAAAAQU/9vgVdpilhgk/s1600-h/rock-band-beatles-gameplay3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sn6iGknGaXI/AAAAAAAAAQU/9vgVdpilhgk/s320/rock-band-beatles-gameplay3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367906039662799218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         and I say it's all right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely          winter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Little darling, it feels like years since it's          been here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Here comes the sun, here comes the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         and I say it's all right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Little darling, the smiles returning to the          faces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Little darling, it seems like years since it's          been here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Here comes the sun, here comes the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         and I say it's all right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly          melting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Little darling, it seems like years since it's          been clear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         and I say it's all right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;         It's all right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6660096296609354856?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6660096296609354856/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/here-comes-sun-here-comes-sun-and-i-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6660096296609354856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6660096296609354856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/here-comes-sun-here-comes-sun-and-i-say.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sn6iGknGaXI/AAAAAAAAAQU/9vgVdpilhgk/s72-c/rock-band-beatles-gameplay3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7920785747125732908</id><published>2009-08-07T16:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T17:11:36.637-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorriso Bobo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sny29tVBbwI/AAAAAAAAAQM/P6PAtWiBZn4/s1600-h/sp+sorriso.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sny29tVBbwI/AAAAAAAAAQM/P6PAtWiBZn4/s320/sp+sorriso.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367366027174833922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class="" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_JustifyFull" title="Justificar" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 13);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Justificar" class="gl_align_full" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caminho de volta do trabalho pra casa, sexta-feira, cansada pra caralho, ônibus lotado, engarrafamento, sol na cara, gente chata, fones no ouvido, música boa, a cabeça voa, você lembra da noite de ontem... e pronto! Um sorriso bobo no canto da boca. Mulher é bicho besta mesmo! Meu Deus! Como pode?! Mas eu adoro! Adoro coisas que acontecem assim, do nada, quando menos se espera, de onde menos se imagina! E assim é sempre mais gostoso! Quando que eu poderia imaginar, que numa quinta-feira, depois do trabalho, depois de enfrentar algumas horas de agulhadas pra retocar uma tattoo, isso poderia acontecer?! Nunca! Mas é fato: quem procura não acha!!! As coisas acontecem quando e porque teem que acontecer. Só que vai aceitar isso? É foda! E que sempre quero tudo pra ontem, não sei esperar que 'as coisas aconteçam', não aceito que 'tudo tem a sua hora'... mas é fato, eu digo e repito: "não existem coincidências, apenas a ilusão da coincidência" E agora é aquilo! O que vai acontecer daqui pra frente? Juro! Juro mesmo que não vou criar nenhuma espectativa... mas já era! Eu quero mais! Eu quero a minha chance! Que ela venha... a seu tempo e a seu modo! E que eu saiba dar tempo ao tempo e saiba esperar!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7920785747125732908?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7920785747125732908/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/sorriso-bobo.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7920785747125732908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7920785747125732908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/sorriso-bobo.html' title='Sorriso Bobo...'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sny29tVBbwI/AAAAAAAAAQM/P6PAtWiBZn4/s72-c/sp+sorriso.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-492452910985199973</id><published>2009-08-05T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T17:03:29.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Collor diz:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Snn--v3mpsI/AAAAAAAAAQE/mHpEe3NdIBI/s1600-h/pedro-simon_gustavo-miranda_o-globo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Snn--v3mpsI/AAAAAAAAAQE/mHpEe3NdIBI/s320/pedro-simon_gustavo-miranda_o-globo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366600784943687362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"Ah, manda ele:"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Se fuder?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Tomar no cú?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Ir à merda?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Para puta que o pariu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Catar coquinho?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Plantar batatas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Tomar banho?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Procurar sua turma?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Arrumar o que fazer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) Ver se eu tô na esquina?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(   ) N.R.A.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-492452910985199973?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/492452910985199973/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/ah-manda-ele-se-fuder-tomar-no-cu-ir.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/492452910985199973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/492452910985199973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/ah-manda-ele-se-fuder-tomar-no-cu-ir.html' title='Collor diz:'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Snn--v3mpsI/AAAAAAAAAQE/mHpEe3NdIBI/s72-c/pedro-simon_gustavo-miranda_o-globo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1932619457167990193</id><published>2009-08-04T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T15:00:42.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnivAuRIgqI/AAAAAAAAAP8/4TQ7Ck8izHk/s1600-h/noivos_bicicleta_karla_final21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnivAuRIgqI/AAAAAAAAAP8/4TQ7Ck8izHk/s320/noivos_bicicleta_karla_final21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366231382966698658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Pois é... queria tanto, agora acho que não quero mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Aliás, eu quero sim, mas não desse jeito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Quer dizer, até quero desse jeito, mas acho que não vale à pena.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Pode até valer à pena, mas não vai ser tão legal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Quem sabe até seja legal, mas não é a mesma coisa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;É... nunca mais vai ser a mesma coisa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Já não era a mesma coisa antes, agora então... vai ser pior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Vou ou não vou?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Should I stay or should I go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Caso ou compro uma bicicleta?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Ser ou não ser?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Oh vida, oh céus, oh azar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas que droga!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Queria tanto, agora acho que não quero mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1932619457167990193?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1932619457167990193/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/pois-e.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1932619457167990193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1932619457167990193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/pois-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnivAuRIgqI/AAAAAAAAAP8/4TQ7Ck8izHk/s72-c/noivos_bicicleta_karla_final21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1328421644267727816</id><published>2009-08-01T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T15:55:54.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnTH1sdltbI/AAAAAAAAAP0/IOyphJtZD24/s1600-h/heart-on-hand.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnTH1sdltbI/AAAAAAAAAP0/IOyphJtZD24/s320/heart-on-hand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365132781387363762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu queria ter o amor na mão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Na verdade, acho que eu queria ter meu coração na palma da mão. Pra na hora em que eu dissesse 'não', apertasse ele bem forte até ele entender que não é não! Pra na hora em que eu dissesse 'sim', abrisse a mão e ele voasse longe. Pra poder tampar seus ouvido e ele não se iludir com falsas promessas. Pra poder fechar seus olhos e ele não se enganar pelas aparências.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu queria ter o amor na mão. Pra poder controlá-lo, conduzi-lo, manuseá-lo, usa-lo da melhor forma possível. Mas o maldito amor é incontrolável, instável, impossível de ser administrado. Você pode ter o que você quiser em suas mãos, as vezes, até mesmo o amor de outra pessoa. Mas o seu amor nunca. Esse bendito amor não escolhe hora, lugar ou situação, ele simplesmente chega. Arrebata e te desarma de todas as defesas que você acreditava que te protegeriam de tudo. Ele vem... e suas mão vão se abrindo lentamente... entregando os pontos e o coração.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu queria ter o amor na mão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Na verdade, acho que eu queria ter meu coração na palma da mão. Pra na hora em que você chegar, te entregar e me entregar de corpo e alma!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1328421644267727816?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1328421644267727816/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-queria-ter-o-amor-na-mao.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1328421644267727816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1328421644267727816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-queria-ter-o-amor-na-mao.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnTH1sdltbI/AAAAAAAAAP0/IOyphJtZD24/s72-c/heart-on-hand.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7541792347414545059</id><published>2009-07-31T13:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T13:15:02.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoje é o Dia Do Orgasmo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnNOhGSN8jI/AAAAAAAAAPM/bsD7S7PfAmM/s1600-h/orgasmo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnNOhGSN8jI/AAAAAAAAAPM/bsD7S7PfAmM/s320/orgasmo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364717911658066482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;...então, relaxe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7541792347414545059?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7541792347414545059/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/hoje-e-o-dia-do-orgasmo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7541792347414545059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7541792347414545059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/hoje-e-o-dia-do-orgasmo.html' title='Hoje é o Dia Do Orgasmo...'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnNOhGSN8jI/AAAAAAAAAPM/bsD7S7PfAmM/s72-c/orgasmo2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2041360348813305953</id><published>2009-07-31T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T13:04:13.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Vou cavalgar por toda a noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Por uma estrada colorida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Usar meus beijos como açoite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; E a minha mão mais atrevida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Vou me agarrar aos seus cabelos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Pra não cair do seu galope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Vou atender aos meus apelos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Antes que o dia nos sufoque&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Vou me perder de madrugada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Pra te encontrar no meu abraço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Depois de toda cavalgada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Vou me deitar no seu cansaço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Sem me importar se nesse instante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Sou dominado ou se domino&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Vou me sentir como um gigante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Ou nada mais do que um menino&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Estrelas mudam de lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Chegam mais perto só pra ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; E ainda brilham de manhã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Depois do nosso adormecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; E na grandeza desse instante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; O amor cavalga sem saber&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Que na beleza dessa hora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; O sol espera pra nascer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Estrelas mudam de lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Chegam mais perto só pra ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; E ainda brilham na manhã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Depois do nosso adormecer"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2041360348813305953?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2041360348813305953/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/vou-cavalgar-por-toda-noite-por-uma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2041360348813305953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2041360348813305953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/vou-cavalgar-por-toda-noite-por-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3757589410900368663</id><published>2009-07-29T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T18:02:19.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnDwd23RVXI/AAAAAAAAAO8/9SAWKFFlkpY/s1600-h/liberdade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnDwd23RVXI/AAAAAAAAAO8/9SAWKFFlkpY/s320/liberdade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364051551932470642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sentada em frente as salas de cinema de um shopping, num domingo a noite, fazendo hora até a minha sessão começar. Observo. Coisa que não costumo fazer. Não por educação, mas porque sou distraída mesmo. Porém, nesta noite eu observo. Pais que esperam filhos saírem de Harry Potter, pais que acompanham filhos na saída da Era do Gelo, casais rindo após A Mulher Invisível, casais trocando beijos e carinhos depois de A Proposta, grupos de amigos e pessoas mais velhas comentando Inimigo Público. E eu sem saber onde me enquadro, esperando sozinha por Halloween. Que tipo de pessoa vai ao shopping sozinha num domingo a noite pra ver um filme de terror?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Independente?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Solitária?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Maluca?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Alternativa?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Altista?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sei lá... não acho que eu seja nada disso e acho que eu um pouco de tudo isso! Embora não goste de rótulos, tentei me identificar. Em vão! Quando fui pra fila da minha sessão, nada se enquadrava. Um pai com um garoto de uns 12 anos, alguns casais (de todos os tipos), 3 adolescentes bem patricinhas e um grupo de garotos. E eu. Antes só do que mal acompanhada. Será? Tão clichê isso, tão desculpinha de quem não tem companhia... mas não é mesmo meu caso. Acho que meu maior defeito é o que considero minha melhor qualidade. Sim. Eu sou individualista! Não gosto de depender de ninguém pra nada. Filha única bem criada! Por isso, quando quero faço, vou, aconteço... não espero nada de ninguém. Bom e mal. É um pouco solitário mesmo, mas nada que me incomode. Claro que eu preferia mil vezes ter ido ao cinema com um namorado, mas só porque eu não o tenho (ainda!) vou ficar em casa? De jeito nenhum baby! Não nasci grudada com ninguém ,não passo vontade, é como diz Madonna: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Pobre daquele cujo prazer depende da permissão de alguém"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3757589410900368663?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3757589410900368663/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/sentada-em-frente-as-salas-de-cinema-de.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3757589410900368663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3757589410900368663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/sentada-em-frente-as-salas-de-cinema-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SnDwd23RVXI/AAAAAAAAAO8/9SAWKFFlkpY/s72-c/liberdade.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6111867482999721723</id><published>2009-07-29T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T16:59:18.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As flores e a lua</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Eu quero ver a lua sobre as flores do jardim &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Completamente nua seu amor quero sentir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Atravessar o oceano só pra ter você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Você faz parte dos meus planos não quero te esquecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Assim quando amanhecer quero te encontrar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Quero sempre ficar junto de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Quando amanhecer quero te encontrar meu amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Eu quero ver o sol e o novo amanhecer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Embaixo do lençol seu corpo me aquecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Acompanhado de alegria flores e prazer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Você faz parte da minha vida eu não quero te esquecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Assim...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-weight: bold;"&gt;D.Badu guimaraes .............cooperativa dos poetas marginais &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6111867482999721723?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6111867482999721723/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/as-flores-e-lua.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6111867482999721723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6111867482999721723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/as-flores-e-lua.html' title='As flores e a lua'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8719611179150615915</id><published>2009-07-28T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T16:33:44.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"mas tudo bem eu sei que um dia vai e outro vem&lt;br /&gt;você ainda há de encontrar alguém pra lhe fazer o que você me fez&lt;br /&gt;e ai na hora do sufoco sei você vai me procurar&lt;br /&gt;com a mesma conversa que um dia me fez apaixonar&lt;br /&gt;por alguém de uma falsa consideração&lt;br /&gt; e ai você vai perceber que eu estou numa boa&lt;br /&gt;que durante algum tempo fiquei sem ninguém&lt;br /&gt;mas há males na vida que vem para o bem"&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8719611179150615915?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8719611179150615915/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/mas-tudo-bem-eu-sei-que-um-dia-vai-e.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8719611179150615915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8719611179150615915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/mas-tudo-bem-eu-sei-que-um-dia-vai-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8259065687764733857</id><published>2009-07-28T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T15:02:10.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sm91WF7iigI/AAAAAAAAAO0/dLYOI_CcUCs/s1600-h/samba+social+clube.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sm91WF7iigI/AAAAAAAAAO0/dLYOI_CcUCs/s320/samba+social+clube.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363634703631026690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8259065687764733857?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8259065687764733857/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8259065687764733857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8259065687764733857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_28.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sm91WF7iigI/AAAAAAAAAO0/dLYOI_CcUCs/s72-c/samba+social+clube.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2756072551496288899</id><published>2009-07-26T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T17:58:49.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Smz7qXXhAvI/AAAAAAAAAOs/BJtWnQ4LFio/s1600-h/halloween_poster1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Smz7qXXhAvI/AAAAAAAAAOs/BJtWnQ4LFio/s320/halloween_poster1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362937961537143538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2756072551496288899?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2756072551496288899/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_9479.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2756072551496288899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2756072551496288899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_9479.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Smz7qXXhAvI/AAAAAAAAAOs/BJtWnQ4LFio/s72-c/halloween_poster1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2284222177274626165</id><published>2009-07-26T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T07:34:11.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmxpWZ-TlnI/AAAAAAAAAOk/pxKLiKfm5ds/s1600-h/poster-de-inimigo-p%C3%BAblico.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmxpWZ-TlnI/AAAAAAAAAOk/pxKLiKfm5ds/s320/poster-de-inimigo-p%C3%BAblico.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362777089941673586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2284222177274626165?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2284222177274626165/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_26.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2284222177274626165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2284222177274626165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_26.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmxpWZ-TlnI/AAAAAAAAAOk/pxKLiKfm5ds/s72-c/poster-de-inimigo-p%C3%BAblico.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-5285848673073766367</id><published>2009-07-23T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T15:01:53.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmjcMXs2kmI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kO0U7OHqCUg/s1600-h/Mulher+na+cama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmjcMXs2kmI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kO0U7OHqCUg/s320/Mulher+na+cama.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361777461463257698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Tem noites que eu sinto falta de coisas que eu nunca tive. Não, não é bem assim. Seria injusto com meus ex-namorados. Mas tem noites... Ah, malditas noites! Noites que me fazem acreditar que eu nunca tive carinho no cabelo, roçar de pés sob a coberta, respiração sincronizada, dedos entrelaçados, beijo no ombro, cabeça sobre o peito, olho no olho, promessas de amor verdadeiro, sonhos de paixão eterna. Malditas noites que me fazem sentir como a mais solitária e infeliz das mulheres, que me faz invejar o pior dos relacionamentos, que me faz me contentar com pouco, quando na verdade eu quero tanto, eu quero muito. Que me faz chorar quietinha e perguntar perguntar baixinho... até quando?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-5285848673073766367?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/5285848673073766367/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/tem-noites-que-eu-sinto-falta-de-coisas.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5285848673073766367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5285848673073766367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/tem-noites-que-eu-sinto-falta-de-coisas.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmjcMXs2kmI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kO0U7OHqCUg/s72-c/Mulher+na+cama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2190110981928436504</id><published>2009-07-22T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T14:24:22.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmeCRP-NbsI/AAAAAAAAAOM/zSWsDEs0QmA/s1600-h/sonho.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmeCRP-NbsI/AAAAAAAAAOM/zSWsDEs0QmA/s320/sonho.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361397114264710850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;noite dessas eu sonhei que namorava um homem cego.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;ele me abraçava e dizia que me amava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu chorava muito e não conseguia dizer o mesmo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;noutro dia sonhei com o massacre da serra elétrica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;não lembro se era uma das vítimas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;ou se eu era o assassino.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;certa noite sonhei com você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;acordei com seu cheiro no meu corpo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;e sentindo a dor das suas mãos no meu quadril.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;teve uma noite que sonhei que cuidava de um bebê.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu derramava leite no meu peito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;ele lambia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2190110981928436504?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2190110981928436504/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/noite-dessas-eu-sonhei-que-namorava-um.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2190110981928436504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2190110981928436504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/noite-dessas-eu-sonhei-que-namorava-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmeCRP-NbsI/AAAAAAAAAOM/zSWsDEs0QmA/s72-c/sonho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-5984041841530048848</id><published>2009-07-21T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T15:00:24.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmY6MGnwiEI/AAAAAAAAAN8/VnqRHDiAIuc/s1600-h/PICT8026+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmY6MGnwiEI/AAAAAAAAAN8/VnqRHDiAIuc/s320/PICT8026+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361036386041366594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu idealizo tanto os babacas com quem eu saio, ou pelos quais me apaixono platônicamente, que não enxergo os claros sinais que me são enviados. Ou, quando é enviado um mínimo sinal... uma fumacinha lá longe no horizonte, eu já enxergo um incêndio californiano! Poxa, sou uma mulher esclarecida, com um certo nível cultural, gosto de ler, vou ao cinema e teatro com uma boa frequência, sempre vou a shows, tenho um bom papo e sei até dançar, conheço gente interessante de todos os níveis e classes, não sou preconceituosa, sei o que é bom e o que é mal pra mim, conheço meus limites, sou independente, faço o que quero, na hora que quero, sem nunca desrespeitar os limites de ninguém. Mas tem momentos em que fico completamente cega-surda-burra! E olha que eu me esforço pra ser fria e calculista, mas é mais forte que eu. Tenho raiva de gente que subestima a própria inteligência. Sabe aquele tipinho que se faz de coitado, de burro, de sonso, de santo pra conseguir alguma coisa? Mas quando eu dou uma vacilo desses, é justamente assim que me sinto. Uma patética idiota que se rebaixou a troco de nada. Digna de pena! Pena de mim mesma. Só que ao contrário desses tipinhos, eu não faço premeditadamente, simplesmente acontece! E aí que é pior... me sinto um ser acéfalo! Uma completa imbecil! Como pode ser tão fácil me levar no bico? E aí eu digo a mim mesma: "porra Andréia, logo você foi cair nessa?!" E pior! Mais uma vez!!! E de novo e de novo e de novo... Parece que a cada vez que uma conversa-pra-boi-dormir me pega, em vez de eu ficar mais esperta, eu fico mais cega-surda-burra!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-5984041841530048848?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/5984041841530048848/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/eu-idealizo-tanto-os-babacas-com-quem.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5984041841530048848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5984041841530048848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/eu-idealizo-tanto-os-babacas-com-quem.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmY6MGnwiEI/AAAAAAAAAN8/VnqRHDiAIuc/s72-c/PICT8026+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8227880262430607597</id><published>2009-07-19T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T17:57:45.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmPAeejFNPI/AAAAAAAAANk/_3Sw-1hFJc8/s1600-h/foto_melamed_regurgitofagia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmPAeejFNPI/AAAAAAAAANk/_3Sw-1hFJc8/s320/foto_melamed_regurgitofagia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360339611329836274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Regurgitofagia com Michel Melamed&lt;br /&gt;(Teatro SESC Ginástico - 19/07/09)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8227880262430607597?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8227880262430607597/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/regurgitofagia-com-michel-melamed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8227880262430607597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8227880262430607597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/regurgitofagia-com-michel-melamed.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmPAeejFNPI/AAAAAAAAANk/_3Sw-1hFJc8/s72-c/foto_melamed_regurgitofagia.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6719818078772579373</id><published>2009-07-19T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T10:56:58.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmNeAL8s_YI/AAAAAAAAANc/Rn_dOyfxlkw/s1600-h/matmontxx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmNeAL8s_YI/AAAAAAAAANc/Rn_dOyfxlkw/s320/matmontxx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360231338801429890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Matanza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;(Circo Voador - 18/07/09)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6719818078772579373?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6719818078772579373/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/matanza-circo-voador-180709.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6719818078772579373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6719818078772579373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/matanza-circo-voador-180709.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmNeAL8s_YI/AAAAAAAAANc/Rn_dOyfxlkw/s72-c/matmontxx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6755560701257491142</id><published>2009-07-17T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T15:51:37.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmEAWfq7W9I/AAAAAAAAANU/0KeKFbR7_Zw/s1600-h/o-beijo-alfred-eisenstaedt-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmEAWfq7W9I/AAAAAAAAANU/0KeKFbR7_Zw/s320/o-beijo-alfred-eisenstaedt-thumb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359565418006272978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"Na minha boca eu sinto a saliva que já secou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;De tanto esperar aquele beijo, ai, aquele beijo que nunca chegou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Você é uma loucura em minha vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Você é uma navalha para os meus olhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Você é o estandarte da agonia que tem a lua e o sol do meio-dia"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;pre style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6755560701257491142?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6755560701257491142/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/na-minha-boca-eu-sinto-saliva-que-ja.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6755560701257491142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6755560701257491142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/na-minha-boca-eu-sinto-saliva-que-ja.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SmEAWfq7W9I/AAAAAAAAANU/0KeKFbR7_Zw/s72-c/o-beijo-alfred-eisenstaedt-thumb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-824234867489285312</id><published>2009-07-15T16:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T16:19:52.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sl5i9JlXBoI/AAAAAAAAANM/bhmMjXwAl4U/s1600-h/rotina1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 281px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sl5i9JlXBoI/AAAAAAAAANM/bhmMjXwAl4U/s320/rotina1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358829409301628546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes, quando eu saio da minha rotina, do meu itinerário, do meu &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"a-mesma-coisa-todo-santo-dia"&lt;/span&gt;, eu realmente acredito que haja algum propósito nisso. Sim. Eu acredito na Providência Divina. E acredito ainda que ela esteja presente nas pequenas coisas. Você pega o mesmo ônibus, no mesmo horário, passa pelas mesmas ruas a caminho do trabalho, almoça no mesmo restaurante, chega em casa sempre na mesma hora e etc, etc, etc... Mas num dia qualquer, como se fosse por acaso, você muda essa rotina. Não por nenhum compromisso, consulta marcada ou seja lá que razão &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;programada&lt;/span&gt; o faça mudar sua agenda. Você pega um ônibus diferente ou vai de metrô, vai almoçar num restaurante diferente, se demora um pouco mais pela rua antes de ir pra casa, muda de caminho sem explicação mesmo. Só que não existe acaso, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"não existem coincidências"&lt;/span&gt;, você pode até pensar que sim, mas há. Eu consigo ver isso, consigo entender e gosto muito dessas mudanças. Tanto que até as vezes as faço propositalmente. Odeio me sentir um robôzinho e só me dar conta de que saí do trabalho, por exemplo, quando já estou dentro do ônibus, de tão automático que foi. Eu gosto de lugares diferentes, ruas diferentes, ver gente diferente, nem de seja &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;da-casa-pro-trabalho-do-trabalho-pra-casa&lt;/span&gt;. Meu único problema é que eu sempre fico esperando por aquele 'sinal'. Acho que se estou fazendo algo diferente, algo diferente tem que acontecer! E é aí que me ferro! Fico esperando Algo Grandioso e me esqueço dos pequenos sinais que mencionei no início... esses sim são os significativos, são os verdadeiros, são os que acontecem todo dia, com rotina ou não! Mas eu continuo por aí: andando por ruas diferentes, pegando ônibus em pontos diferentes, chegando em casa em horários diferentes, tentando sempre o Diferente para que o Novo aconteça!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-824234867489285312?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/824234867489285312/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/as-vezes-quando-eu-saio-da-minha-rotina.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/824234867489285312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/824234867489285312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/as-vezes-quando-eu-saio-da-minha-rotina.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sl5i9JlXBoI/AAAAAAAAANM/bhmMjXwAl4U/s72-c/rotina1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7607984834478523871</id><published>2009-07-13T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T18:24:32.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Slvd0wLwCVI/AAAAAAAAANE/0Mc-Z_t3uPY/s1600-h/OgAAAKMtpRRefM58_jDGTio4i7ilQrhr57Fo_IOteNFETRFV_dbb8GKx790pIMTqauXPYUD8cw3pqRAcxtoKH7qVek4Am1T1UNpJ0z6cXVhkJebrES1ARTwvs6Dy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Slvd0wLwCVI/AAAAAAAAANE/0Mc-Z_t3uPY/s320/OgAAAKMtpRRefM58_jDGTio4i7ilQrhr57Fo_IOteNFETRFV_dbb8GKx790pIMTqauXPYUD8cw3pqRAcxtoKH7qVek4Am1T1UNpJ0z6cXVhkJebrES1ARTwvs6Dy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358120080044460370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span name="caption" id="caption"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span name="caption" id="caption"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;E se Vênus tivesse nascido assim?&lt;br /&gt;Eu com certeza estaria muito mais satisfeita com meu corpo!&lt;br /&gt;Mas e você?&lt;br /&gt;Estaria se matando de comer pra ganhar uns quilinhos?!&lt;br /&gt;Desencana...&lt;br /&gt;Seja feliz do jeito que você é!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7607984834478523871?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7607984834478523871/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/e-se-venus-tivesse-nascido-assim-eu-com.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7607984834478523871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7607984834478523871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/e-se-venus-tivesse-nascido-assim-eu-com.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Slvd0wLwCVI/AAAAAAAAANE/0Mc-Z_t3uPY/s72-c/OgAAAKMtpRRefM58_jDGTio4i7ilQrhr57Fo_IOteNFETRFV_dbb8GKx790pIMTqauXPYUD8cw3pqRAcxtoKH7qVek4Am1T1UNpJ0z6cXVhkJebrES1ARTwvs6Dy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3305604453708409887</id><published>2009-07-12T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T11:53:53.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oração a mim mesmo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SloxJEGD0PI/AAAAAAAAAM8/HtZXIjsXyLg/s1600-h/JohnWilliamGodward-TheBelvedere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SloxJEGD0PI/AAAAAAAAAM8/HtZXIjsXyLg/s320/JohnWilliamGodward-TheBelvedere.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357648738498367730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;"Que eu me permita olhar e escutar e sonhar mais. Falar menos. Chorar menos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Ver nos olhos de quem me vê a admiração que eles me têm e não a inveja que prepotentemente penso que têm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Escutar com meus ouvidos atentos e minha boca estática, as palavras que se fazem gestos e os gestos que se fazem palavras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Permitir sempre escutar aquilo que eu não tenho me permitido escutar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Saber realizar os sonhos que nascem em mim e por mim e comigo morrem por eu não os saber sonhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Então, que eu possa viver os sonhos possíveis e os impossíveis; aqueles que morrem e ressuscitam a cada novo fruto, a cada nova flor, a cada novo calor, a cada nova geada, a cada novo dia. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu possa sonhar o ar, sonhar o mar, sonhar o amar, sonhar o amalgamar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu me permita o silêncio das formas, dos movimentos, do impossível, da imensidão de toda profundeza. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu possa substituir minhas palavras pelo toque, pelo sentir, pelo compreender, pelo segredo das coisas mais raras, pela oração mental (aquela que a alma cria e que só ela, alma, ouve e só ela, alma, responde). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu saiba dimensionar o calor, experimentar a forma, vislumbrar as curvas, desenhar as retas, e aprender o sabor da exuberância que se mostra nas pequenas manifestações da vida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu saiba reproduzir na alma a imagem que entra pelos meus olhos fazendo-me parte suprema da natureza, criando-me e recriando-me a cada instante. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu possa chorar menos de tristeza e mais de contentamentos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que meu choro não seja em vão, que em vão não sejam minhas dúvidas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu saiba perder meus caminhos mas saiba recuperar meus destinos com dignidade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu não tenha medo de nada, principalmente de mim mesmo: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;- Que eu não tenha medo de meus medos! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu adormeça toda vez que for derramar lágrimas inúteis, e desperte com o coração cheio de esperanças.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu faça de mim um homem sereno dentro de minha própria turbulência, sábio dentro de meus limites pequenos e inexatos, humilde diante de minhas grandezas tolas e ingênuas (que eu me mostre o quanto são pequenas minhas grandezas e o quanto é valiosa minha pequenez). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu me permita ser mãe, ser pai, e, se for preciso, ser órfão. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Permita-me eu ensinar o pouco que sei e aprender o muito que não sei, traduzir o que os mestres ensinaram e compreender a alegria com que os simples traduzem suas experiências; respeitar incondicionalmente o ser; o ser por si só, por mais nada que possa ter além de sua essência, auxiliar a solidão de quem chegou, render-me ao motivo de quem partiu e aceitar a saudade de quem ficou. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu possa amar e ser amado. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu possa amar mesmo sem ser amado, fazer gentilezas quando recebo carinhos; fazer carinhos mesmo quando não recebo gentilezas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que eu jamais fique só, mesmo quando eu me queira só."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;(Oswaldo Antônio Begiato)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3305604453708409887?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3305604453708409887/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/oracao-mim-mesmo.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3305604453708409887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3305604453708409887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/oracao-mim-mesmo.html' title='Oração a mim mesmo'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SloxJEGD0PI/AAAAAAAAAM8/HtZXIjsXyLg/s72-c/JohnWilliamGodward-TheBelvedere.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2902323820965782357</id><published>2009-07-08T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T16:15:41.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thisweekontheinternet.com/MichaelJacksonMoonwalkerFeet.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://www.thisweekontheinternet.com/MichaelJacksonMoonwalkerFeet.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Se não é a melhor homenagem, é, no mínimo, a mais original!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.eternalmoonwalk.com/" rel="nofollow noindex external"&gt;http://www.eternalmoonwalk.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2902323820965782357?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2902323820965782357/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/se-nao-e-melhor-homenagem-e-no-minimo.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2902323820965782357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2902323820965782357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/se-nao-e-melhor-homenagem-e-no-minimo.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1318665939099256592</id><published>2009-07-05T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T16:33:33.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Corrs - Only When I Sleep</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SlE4EY_cqCI/AAAAAAAAAM0/B9eRP7puwdc/s1600-h/ray+caesar2x.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SlE4EY_cqCI/AAAAAAAAAM0/B9eRP7puwdc/s320/ray+caesar2x.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355123079999432738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Você é apenas um barco dos sonhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Navegando em minha mente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Você nada em meus oceanos secretos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;De corais azuis e vermelhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Seu cheiro é de incenso queimando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Seu toque ainda é sedoso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Isso alcança toda minha pele&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Movendo-se de dentro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Agarra-se em meus seios&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas é somente quando eu durmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Vejo você em meus sonhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Me rondando em círculos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Me virando de cabeça pra baixo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas eu apenas ouço você respirar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Em algum lugar do meu sono&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Me rondando em círculos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Me virando de cabeça pra baixo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;(apenas quando eu durmo)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;E quando eu acordo do sono&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sua sombra desaparecem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sua respiração é só a névoa do mar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Envolvendo meu corpo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Estou trabalhando durante o dia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas quando é hora de descansar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Estou deitada em minha cama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Ouvindo a minha respiração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Caindo do precipício&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas é somente quando eu durmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Vejo você em meus sonhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Me rondando em círculos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Me virando de cabeça pra baixo"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1318665939099256592?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1318665939099256592/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/corrs-only-when-i-sleep.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1318665939099256592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1318665939099256592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/corrs-only-when-i-sleep.html' title='The Corrs - Only When I Sleep'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SlE4EY_cqCI/AAAAAAAAAM0/B9eRP7puwdc/s72-c/ray+caesar2x.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-5264600687750621762</id><published>2009-07-03T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T17:16:30.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Era Uma Vez A Princesa Que Tentava...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sk6eegRoLNI/AAAAAAAAAMs/eacR3LK3O3A/s1600-h/sp+pricess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sk6eegRoLNI/AAAAAAAAAMs/eacR3LK3O3A/s320/sp+pricess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354391253887233234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Em um Reino não muito distante, nem de mim, nem de você, vivia Princesa Que Tentava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ela não era muito feliz, mas tentava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ela não era muito bonita, mas tentava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ela não tinha a vida dos Contos de Fadas, mas... ela tentava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava emagrecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava encontrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava acreditar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava crescer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava amadurecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava melhorar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava entender.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava compreender&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava amar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava ajudar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava estudar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava trabalhar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Às vezes, de tanto tentar, ela se cansava. E se decepcionava também. Mas apesar de tudo, ela era uma Princesa Alegre. Tinha bons amigos com os quais ela sempre poderia contar. Família que a apoiava. E um sorriso sincero no rosto. Mas ela era uma Princesa Alegre e não Feliz. Ela conhecia muito bem a diferença entre esses dois sentimentos e por isso que ela sempre tentava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava encontrar a Felicidade, apesar de saber que felicidade é a soma de uma série de pequenas coisas, que não se "fica" feliz da noite pra o dia e nem o tempo inteiro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentava encontrar seu Príncipe, apesar de saber que Príncipes Encantados não existem e que a sua Felicidade não está condicionada ao amor de um homem e que amar e ser amada mais parece uma Utopia do que um Conto de Fadas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Em alguns momentos, ela se achava até meio boba por não desistir. Tentativa e erro, tentativa e erro... Mas é incrível o quanto ela é Otimista! Sempre que ela está muito cansada de tentar, algo a motiva a tentar de novo! Mas nem sempre ela tenta o Novo, talvez seja isso que a impeça de ter o seu Felizes Para Sempre... Quando nada de Novo acontece, ela acaba ficando um pouco mais triste. E ela mesma sabe, que a tristeza não atrai nada de bom. Por isso ela levanta a cabeça e, mesmo que não seja o Novo, ela tenta de novo! Até que o Novo venha, ela possa parar de tentar, porque enfim, encontrou a Felicidade!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-5264600687750621762?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/5264600687750621762/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/era-uma-vez-princesa-que-tentava.html#comment-form' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5264600687750621762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/5264600687750621762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/era-uma-vez-princesa-que-tentava.html' title='Era Uma Vez A Princesa Que Tentava...'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sk6eegRoLNI/AAAAAAAAAMs/eacR3LK3O3A/s72-c/sp+pricess.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3141770266085893284</id><published>2009-07-03T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T14:26:28.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9qNBH1t4C_o&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9qNBH1t4C_o&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3141770266085893284?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3141770266085893284/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3141770266085893284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3141770266085893284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3302973845841611474</id><published>2009-07-02T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T14:55:55.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Se diferente eu fosse será que eu teria sido amado por você?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sk0sDhIAiTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/0by1AADKjDA/s1600-h/sexo_primeiro_encontro_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 108px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sk0sDhIAiTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/0by1AADKjDA/s320/sexo_primeiro_encontro_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353983970956577074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu ainda caio na besteira de tentar achar uma explicação, um motivo, um culpado, ou seja lá o que for, que faça com que eu me conforme que as coisas caminhem assim. Mas não há explicação que me baste, motivo que justifique e nem culpado que se condene... não há luz no fim desse túnel. Às vezes  meu coração fica tão apertado, me dá um nó na garganta e só o meu travesseiro é quem sabe das minhas noites mal dormidas, porque se tem uma coisa que me tira o sono é essa impotência frente a algo que vai além do que me compete. Porque na verdade, o que eu preciso admitir é isso: tem coisas que eu não posso evitar, ou melhor, fazer acontecer! Hoje &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;(como sempre)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; a conversa lá no trabalho foi sobre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sexo X Relacionamento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;: gente que não gosta de sexo, homens que qualquer rapidinha tá bom, gente que tá ha tanto tempo sem sexo que já tá pirando... enfim! Sexo e Relacionamentos! E aí chegamos na grande questão:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sexo no 1º encontro acaba com qualquer chance de um relacionamento?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Olhando o meu histórico &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;(ai meu Deus! vou ser bem sincera agora, inclusive comigo mesma)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; eu tô começando a acreditar que sim! Por mais que em alguns casos que não tenha ficado só no 1º encontro, nenhum desses casos virou namoro! Só que as vezes eu me recuso a admitir que os homens sejam tão preconceituosos assim e que a culpa de tudo fui simplesmente eu ter isso pra cama com a ele na 1ª noite!? Bem... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;idade da pedra à parte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;... no fim das contas, 100% dos homens presentes no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;debate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; admitiram que sim: mulher pra namorar e mulher pra transar ainda é um conceito! Absurdo aos meus ouvidos, mas eles fazem sim esse tipo de classificação!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Pois bem mocinhas, fechem as pernas e joguem um balde de água fria na sua libido! Eles podem... a gente não ! É assim que funciona! Ou então, ano que vem, estarei eu lá de novo na Igreja de Santo Antônio fazendo promessa... porque se for assim, só apelando mesmo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3302973845841611474?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3302973845841611474/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/se-diferente-eu-fosse-sera-que-eu-teria.html#comment-form' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3302973845841611474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3302973845841611474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/se-diferente-eu-fosse-sera-que-eu-teria.html' title='&quot;Se diferente eu fosse será que eu teria sido amado por você?&quot;'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sk0sDhIAiTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/0by1AADKjDA/s72-c/sexo_primeiro_encontro_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-8153659106809350889</id><published>2009-07-01T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T17:13:55.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Skv6vJeU3lI/AAAAAAAAAMc/Ac0FfAzUNeo/s1600-h/Ray+Caesar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Skv6vJeU3lI/AAAAAAAAAMc/Ac0FfAzUNeo/s320/Ray+Caesar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353648269963877970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me modifica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu me camuflo, camaleoa que sou, mas não perco minha essência.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me corrompe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu me dispo, despudorada que sou, mas não perco meu caráter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me fere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu choro, frágil que sou, mas não perco minha força.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me comove.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu avalio, crítica que sou, mas não perco minha frieza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me mostra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o me desmascaro, verdadeira que sou, mas não perco o mistério.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me seduz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu me deixo levar, sonhadora que sou, mas não perco meu chão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me deprime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu me isolo, individualista que sou, mas não perco a alegria de viver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me agride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu mostro a face, corajosa que sou, mas não perco minha suavidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;o meio que me cerca não me ama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;eu me apaixono, tola que sou, mas não perco minha solidão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o meio que me cerca não me odeia.&lt;br /&gt;eu me enfureço, humana que sou, mas não perco minha fé.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-8153659106809350889?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/8153659106809350889/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-meio-que-me-cerca-nao-me-modifica.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8153659106809350889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/8153659106809350889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-meio-que-me-cerca-nao-me-modifica.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Skv6vJeU3lI/AAAAAAAAAMc/Ac0FfAzUNeo/s72-c/Ray+Caesar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7979838346579805998</id><published>2009-06-30T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T14:30:48.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ar-Z_l907DY&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ar-Z_l907DY&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7979838346579805998?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7979838346579805998/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/httpwww.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7979838346579805998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7979838346579805998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3242848151245439581</id><published>2009-06-29T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T17:48:07.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SklfwoJ-oEI/AAAAAAAAAME/d1B83U9nTLk/s1600-h/0,,15362103-EX,00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SklfwoJ-oEI/AAAAAAAAAME/d1B83U9nTLk/s320/0,,15362103-EX,00.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352914921124175938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Há tempos que não me divertia tanto! Às vezes sinto uma saudade enorme da Roça, justamente por essas pequenas coisas. Quando vou pra lá &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;(dessa vez tinha quase um mês que não ia! e isso pporque minha mãe ainda mora lá...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;, me bate um preguiça enorme! É longe, fico cansada, tanta coisa legal pra fazer no centro do Rio... mas fui! O sábado me reservava um show na Lapa, banda alternativa e todo aquele ambiente que eu amo... mas o que rolou mesmo foi um &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Baile Funk da Furacão 2000 no Seropédica Atlético Clube! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Adoroooooooooooooo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Dancei até as 4 da manhã, bebi todas, fiz amigas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;'Nems'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; na fila do banheiro, fugi das câmeras da gravação do dvd... hehehehehehe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Enfim... muito bom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Se você nunca foi baby, então vá! Junte amigas animadas como as minhas, pouco dinheiro &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;(porque a cerveja é sempre barata)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; e vá! Mas vá até chão!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Voltei pra casa de moto-taxi e ainda fui pra cozinha comer Cream Cracker com mussarela, catchup e coca-cola, conversando com minha mãe... bêêêêêêêda igual uma porca! Depois desmaiei na cama! huahauhauahauhauahau Como eu já disse: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Adoroooooooooooooo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Quando que eu posso fazer isso no Centro do Rio?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Nunca!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Prós e Contras... há de se medir e dosar isso!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;P.S.: Fernanda veio! Tempo que eu não deixava ela vir... e veio em missão de paz. Dançou, se divertiu e me deixou em casa direitinho! hehehehehe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Pra quem não a conhece... qualquer hora apresento!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3242848151245439581?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3242848151245439581/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/ha-tempos-que-nao-me-divertia-tanto-as.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3242848151245439581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3242848151245439581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/ha-tempos-que-nao-me-divertia-tanto-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SklfwoJ-oEI/AAAAAAAAAME/d1B83U9nTLk/s72-c/0,,15362103-EX,00.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1483400522147325744</id><published>2009-06-26T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T16:15:39.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkVVCzxiAVI/AAAAAAAAALs/2Jkw2TZ0U_g/s1600-h/anjo+diabo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 315px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkVVCzxiAVI/AAAAAAAAALs/2Jkw2TZ0U_g/s320/anjo+diabo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351777238945759570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Aí, do nada, como se nada tivesse acontecido, como se não fosse nada... você me vem com essa! E eu, idiota, como sempre, cedi! Cedi e te dei 'trela' mais uma vez! Me fiz de desentendida, como se não fosse nada, como se não tivesse acontecido nada, como quem não quer nada... e deixei a conversa rolar. Fui meio monossilábica, eu sei... mas nem isso você merecia! Mas eu fiz... e se você vier como quem não quer nada de novo... eu vou... ah eu vou! Vou dar ouvidos pro conselheiro errado, vou querer morrer quando você sumir de novo, vou ficar esperando telefonemas e mensagens... tudo outra vez eu vou! Ah... eu sei que eu vou! Porque eu me conheço como ninguém!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Idiota...................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1483400522147325744?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1483400522147325744/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/ai-do-nada-como-se-nada-tivesse.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1483400522147325744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1483400522147325744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/ai-do-nada-como-se-nada-tivesse.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkVVCzxiAVI/AAAAAAAAALs/2Jkw2TZ0U_g/s72-c/anjo+diabo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-752627190116971427</id><published>2009-06-26T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T14:02:34.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkU3S5gqadI/AAAAAAAAALk/B29DmYfa0ms/s1600-h/capadresjanela.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkU3S5gqadI/AAAAAAAAALk/B29DmYfa0ms/s320/capadresjanela.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351744530014693842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Triste é não chorar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Sim, eu também chorei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; E não, não há nenhum remédio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Pra curar essa dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Que ainda não passou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Mas vai passar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; A dor que nos machucou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; E não, não há nenhum relógio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; pra fazer voltar... O tempo voa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Eu não suporto ver você sofrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Não gosto de fazer ninguém querer se abster do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; passado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; E o que passou, passou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; E o que marcou, ficou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Se diferente eu fosse será que eu teria sido amado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt; Por você, por você"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-752627190116971427?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/752627190116971427/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/triste-e-nao-chorar-sim-eu-tambem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/752627190116971427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/752627190116971427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/triste-e-nao-chorar-sim-eu-tambem.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkU3S5gqadI/AAAAAAAAALk/B29DmYfa0ms/s72-c/capadresjanela.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-9186093758833471972</id><published>2009-06-26T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T14:00:58.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkU1WrHv4-I/AAAAAAAAALc/WoZagt5mNPI/s1600-h/farrah-fawcett02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkU1WrHv4-I/AAAAAAAAALc/WoZagt5mNPI/s320/farrah-fawcett02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351742395848319970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;The Charlie's Angels Is Dead -&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-9186093758833471972?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/9186093758833471972/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/charlies-angels-is-dead.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/9186093758833471972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/9186093758833471972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/charlies-angels-is-dead.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkU1WrHv4-I/AAAAAAAAALc/WoZagt5mNPI/s72-c/farrah-fawcett02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2951385481930145421</id><published>2009-06-25T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T17:17:28.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkQTPOKutmI/AAAAAAAAALU/zvyRihmZAOM/s1600-h/michael_jackson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkQTPOKutmI/AAAAAAAAALU/zvyRihmZAOM/s320/michael_jackson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351423409445058146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;em style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;- The King Is Dead&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2951385481930145421?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2951385481930145421/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/king-is-dead.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2951385481930145421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2951385481930145421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/king-is-dead.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkQTPOKutmI/AAAAAAAAALU/zvyRihmZAOM/s72-c/michael_jackson.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-3215665018410403037</id><published>2009-06-25T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T15:38:46.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkP8bB9l_HI/AAAAAAAAALE/CcGY1E5Bb2c/s1600-h/red-alert3jpg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkP8bB9l_HI/AAAAAAAAALE/CcGY1E5Bb2c/s320/red-alert3jpg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351398323559726194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Descobri que minha cor é realmente o Vermelho!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Nunca recebi tantos elogios como hoje! Desde o momento que cheguei ao trabalho até na hora que fui buscar uma roupa que tinha deixado pra fazer reparos numa loja. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Calça jeans, all star vermelho, blusa de frio vermelha e faixa de tricô vermelha na cabeça... e Voilà la!!! Lá fui eu com o todo o poder da cor para mais um dia! Depois de tantos comentários dos colegas de trabalho e até chefes, de como eu estava radiante, saí pelas ruas do Centro do Rio cheia da energia do vermelho vibrando em mim! Sensação boa, me perdoe a redundância, mas mulher quando se sente poderosa pode tudo! rsrsrs Pena que a chuva estragou meu passeio... queria dar uma chance ao... ops! a sorte!!! Vai que atrai né?! Afinal, é a cor da paixão, do coração, do calor!!! Como já era uma das minhas cores preferidas mesmo, não ignorei os sinais e na hora de trocar um casaco na loja hoje, troquei por um vermelho! Assim, quem sabe, não aumento minhas chances?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;E viva o Vermelho!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-3215665018410403037?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/3215665018410403037/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/descobri-que-minha-cor-e-realmente-o.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3215665018410403037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/3215665018410403037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/descobri-que-minha-cor-e-realmente-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkP8bB9l_HI/AAAAAAAAALE/CcGY1E5Bb2c/s72-c/red-alert3jpg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1021282546250644975</id><published>2009-06-23T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T15:00:07.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkFP3aRUjkI/AAAAAAAAAK0/gOmSP26nLnM/s1600-h/escrever.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkFP3aRUjkI/AAAAAAAAAK0/gOmSP26nLnM/s320/escrever.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350645645656231490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Mariana Aydar - Palavras Não Falam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;"Eu não escrevo pra ninguém e nem pra fazer música&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E nem pra preencher o branco dessa página linda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Eu me entendo escrevendo e vejo tudo sem vaidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Só tem eu e esse branco e ele me mostra o que eu não sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E me faz ver o que não tem palavra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Por mais que eu tente, são só palavras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Por mais que eu me mate, são só palavras"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1021282546250644975?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1021282546250644975/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/mariana-aydar-palavras-nao-falam-eu-nao.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1021282546250644975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1021282546250644975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/mariana-aydar-palavras-nao-falam-eu-nao.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkFP3aRUjkI/AAAAAAAAAK0/gOmSP26nLnM/s72-c/escrever.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6494541994685908762</id><published>2009-06-22T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T16:45:53.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkAM4jIeCxI/AAAAAAAAAKs/5X1cfIVAA-U/s1600-h/mulher_espelho_olho.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkAM4jIeCxI/AAAAAAAAAKs/5X1cfIVAA-U/s320/mulher_espelho_olho.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350290522959121170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Depois de alguns comentários dizendo que eu falei umas verdades no post de domingo... a noite foi a minha vez de ouvir umas verdade da dona Elisa aí embaixo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ri, chorei, pensei, refleti... e revi o que eu já sabia!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Verdades podem te magoar, mas te põe no eixo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Verdades podem doer, mas não mais que mentiras!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Verdades ditas olho no olho... no seu olho no espelho são as melhores! Verdades de você pra você mesma! Não valem nem meias-verdades... só verdades nuas e cruas mesmo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Experimente... você vai ver como funciona!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;É como se te desse um pé na bunda e te jogasse pra frente!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;É sério... não ri não!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Vai pra frente do espelho agora e se encara, olha no teu olho, e diz o que você pensa! Diz o que você quer e espera de você! Diz... tem coragem?! Então vai lá e diz! Sem medo, sem vergonha, sem pensar... Quem vai te julgar?! Você mesmo?! Então, qual o problema?! Vai lá e diz!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Depois você vai  pensar: "ufa! que alívio! eu precisava ouvir isso de mim mesma!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;E a sensação é boa de verdade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"Me vejo no que vejo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Como entrar por meus olhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Em um olho mais límpido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Me olha o que eu olho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;É minha criação, isto que vejo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Perceber é conceber&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Águas de pensamentos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Sou a criatura do que vejo"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6494541994685908762?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6494541994685908762/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/depois-de-alguns-comentarios-dizendo.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6494541994685908762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6494541994685908762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/depois-de-alguns-comentarios-dizendo.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SkAM4jIeCxI/AAAAAAAAAKs/5X1cfIVAA-U/s72-c/mulher_espelho_olho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6969988016590364827</id><published>2009-06-22T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T15:03:42.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj_-R4ki72I/AAAAAAAAAKk/l_TVgtwxzwo/s1600-h/imagem-794514-720758.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj_-R4ki72I/AAAAAAAAAKk/l_TVgtwxzwo/s320/imagem-794514-720758.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350274465536339810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Parem                de falar mal da rotina - Elisa Lucinda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Teatro SESI - Centro - RJ&lt;br /&gt;Graça Aranha, 01&lt;br /&gt;Dias: Sexta, Sábado e Domingo, às 19:00&lt;br /&gt;Ingressos: R$30,00 (sextas e domingos) e R$40,00 (sábados)&lt;br /&gt;Informações para grupos: (21) 2286-5976 / 5977&lt;br /&gt;E-mail: casapoema@casapoema.com.br&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Leiam um trecho:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.escolalucinda.com.br/bau/termosdanovadramatica.htm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6969988016590364827?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6969988016590364827/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/parem-de-falar-mal-da-rotina-elisa.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6969988016590364827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6969988016590364827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/parem-de-falar-mal-da-rotina-elisa.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj_-R4ki72I/AAAAAAAAAKk/l_TVgtwxzwo/s72-c/imagem-794514-720758.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1926997170824972342</id><published>2009-06-21T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T11:48:46.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj5_lwEi4aI/AAAAAAAAAKc/Fv3dlwCRTN4/s1600-h/200214798-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj5_lwEi4aI/AAAAAAAAAKc/Fv3dlwCRTN4/s320/200214798-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349853693898580386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Eu me programo, invisto, arrumo o cabelo, me maquio, escolho a roupa com cuidado, saio de casa impecável... pronto! Embalagem perfeita, então me ponho na prateleira.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Às vezes é isso que a noite parece pra mim... um grande Supermercado. Parece que a gente fica em gôndolas, girando, girando enquanto espera alguém te escolher e te colocar no carrinho, ou na cesta ou enfiar embaixo do braço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Só que há muitas mercadorias, muito rótulos atraentes, muita propaganda, e na noite ninguém se preocupa com o conteúdo. Tô cansada de me pôr na prateleira, e ser afastada pra alguém pegar a lata que tá lá no fundo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Tanto produto azedo, sem sal, passado da validade mas que só por que tem uma etiqueta colorida na frente, é campeão de vendas! Isso se chama propaganda enganosa minha gente! Mas o consumidor tá se lixando pra isso!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Fato¹: a concorrência é grande.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Fato²: imagem é tudo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Fato³: a vida não é justa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Fato Final: odeio constatar tudo isso!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Parece que as coisas só acontecem pra quem não merece, não procura, pra quem não quer! Isso é que é pior!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Vá à luta! Saia! Se faça notar! Seja visível!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;-Quem procura acha?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Porra nenhuma!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;-Quem espera sempre alcança?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Nem fudendo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Nenhuma das 2 atitudes funcionam!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Alguém tem uma 3ª saída aí?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;p.s.: é... tô em crise e tô tããããããão chata hoje!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1926997170824972342?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1926997170824972342/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-me-programo-invisto-arrumo-o-cabelo.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1926997170824972342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1926997170824972342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-me-programo-invisto-arrumo-o-cabelo.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj5_lwEi4aI/AAAAAAAAAKc/Fv3dlwCRTN4/s72-c/200214798-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-4964934104117248012</id><published>2009-06-21T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T10:29:07.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj5tLvkuioI/AAAAAAAAAKM/HHhHUAANKl4/s1600-h/D7E2A714233C5F1C7A21768D5A17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj5tLvkuioI/AAAAAAAAAKM/HHhHUAANKl4/s320/D7E2A714233C5F1C7A21768D5A17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349833455879228034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Skank &amp;amp; Lenine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Fundição Progresso - 20/06/09)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-4964934104117248012?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/4964934104117248012/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/skank-sutilmente-lenine-martelo-bigorna.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4964934104117248012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4964934104117248012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/skank-sutilmente-lenine-martelo-bigorna.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sj5tLvkuioI/AAAAAAAAAKM/HHhHUAANKl4/s72-c/D7E2A714233C5F1C7A21768D5A17.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7336269765821072640</id><published>2009-06-20T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T07:50:34.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjzFzFmiIzI/AAAAAAAAAKE/qjZGf6b0jpI/s1600-h/literatura5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjzFzFmiIzI/AAAAAAAAAKE/qjZGf6b0jpI/s320/literatura5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349367938877104946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Não quero saber da &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'tragédia de minha vida'&lt;/span&gt;, cheia de eufemismo inglês como Oscar Wilde.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu quero a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'luxúria'&lt;/span&gt; de João Ubaldo Ribeiro, quero &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'banquetear com os deuses'&lt;/span&gt; como fez Luiz Fernando Veríssimo, quero ser a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'senhorita que enfrenta os demônios'&lt;/span&gt; de Paulo Coelho. Como Machado de Assis, que minhas &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'memórias póstumas'&lt;/span&gt; façam-se valer a pena! Olhar pela &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'janela mágica'&lt;/span&gt; com Cecilia Meireles e &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'descobrir o mundo'&lt;/span&gt; de Clarice Lispector pra ver a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'cor do invisível'&lt;/span&gt; que viu Mario Quintana, deixar &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'a vida ser como ela é'&lt;/span&gt;, mesmo que ao modo de Nelson Rodrigues e descobrir que &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'amar se aprende amando'&lt;/span&gt; com Carlos Drummond de Andrade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7336269765821072640?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7336269765821072640/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/nao-quero-saber-da-tragedia-de-minha.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7336269765821072640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7336269765821072640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/nao-quero-saber-da-tragedia-de-minha.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjzFzFmiIzI/AAAAAAAAAKE/qjZGf6b0jpI/s72-c/literatura5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-1017515012259404160</id><published>2009-06-19T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T13:38:33.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjvx77CfvpI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/QaGfQo67Pu0/s1600-h/Marilyn_Monroe_by_Allan_Grant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjvx77CfvpI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/QaGfQo67Pu0/s320/Marilyn_Monroe_by_Allan_Grant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349134994195332754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Carência é uma coisa deprimente mesmo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Ontem, quando já tinha me deitado pra dormir, estava sozinha em casa, sem saber por onde andavam minhas colegas de quarto...&lt;br /&gt;Doente de uma gripe que parece querer me matar, a garganta doendo até pra engolir a saliva, um mal estar generalizado que me jogou na cama antes das 9 da noite. Aí me dei conta: quem cuida de mim? quem me dá colo? quem vai perguntar se estou bem e me fazer cafuné até eu pegar no sono? pra quem eu ligo com voz de dengo dizendo: 'tô dodói, vem pra cá'? Eu por mim mesma e mais ninguém. Esse é o preço da independência?! É óbvio que, se eu ligar pra minha mãe, ela aparece aqui na mesma hora! Se eu procurar  pelas meninas elas vão fazer alguma coisa... sim, eu tenho quem me acuda. Mas você sabe do que estou falando, né? Sim, sim... Meu Deus! Como falta um homem na minha vida. Bem... na verdade, não falta! Como já dizia Marilyn Monroe: &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Não me falta homem, o que me falta é amor."&lt;/span&gt; Ah... e como  falta!!! Principalmente quando se está &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"cansada, magoada e vulnerável."&lt;/span&gt; Imagine que Marilyn, pouco antes de morrer, colocou um anúncio num jornal que dizia: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mulher simples, trinta anos, bem em todos os sentidos, mas, até agora, muito pouco feliz no amor, com rendimento médio de quinhentos mil dólares por ano, procura homem honesto e sensível, pode ser calvo, para relação séria. Responder a Marilyn Monroe, Sutton Place, Nova Iorque." &lt;/span&gt;e adivinhe só! Não recebeu uma única resposta... Por mais que quem lesse achesse que era algum tipo de brincadeira... mas, nenhuma respota!? Que fique claro que não estou me comparando a ela, mas fico pensando cá com meus botões: 'se ela, que era uma diva, um símbolo sexual, era tão infeliz no amor... o que será de mim: simples mortal?!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas é justamente aí que eu penso numa outra coisa: o amor foi feito para os mortais! E parece muito simples explicar que pra quem tem tem fama, beleza e dinheiro, as coisas nesse sentido nem sempre são muito fáceis. É muito ruim se sentir sozinha. Mas é pior ainda não se sentir amada. Não vejo uma overdose de calmantes no meu caminho, mas também não vejo amor... mas isso porque ninguém aqui é vidente e porque, como se sabe, o amor pode estar na próxima esquina e é só eu seguir andando que vou dar de cara com ele já já... meu único problema é que eu quero correr! Abrir todas as portas, andar por todas as ruas, procurar por ele embaixo das pedras do caminho... mas tudo o que eu encontrei até agora &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"foi silêncio e chão sujo"&lt;/span&gt;. Mas... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"é preciso força pra sonhar e perceber que a estrada vai além do que se vê"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Antes que eu perca, vou parando por aqui!...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-1017515012259404160?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/1017515012259404160/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/carencia-e-uma-coisa-deprimente-mesmo.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1017515012259404160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/1017515012259404160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/carencia-e-uma-coisa-deprimente-mesmo.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjvx77CfvpI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/QaGfQo67Pu0/s72-c/Marilyn_Monroe_by_Allan_Grant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-583048124599461009</id><published>2009-06-18T15:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T04:12:59.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No amor e na guerra...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjq6XW3yefI/AAAAAAAAAJs/cI63KrJlShk/s1600-h/Battleships.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjq6XW3yefI/AAAAAAAAAJs/cI63KrJlShk/s320/Battleships.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348792417895217650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Sabe esse jogo aí?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pois é... Batalha Naval!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Descobri que eu vinha jogando faz algum tempo... e era só tiro n'água!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pra minha sorte, me dei conta disso, larguei minhas armas, levantei bandeira branca e antes que fosse bombardeada pra valer... me rendi! Desisti!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;E não foi um ato de covardia não... foi uma estratégia inteligentíssima, retirada estratégica sabe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Chega de gastar munição, me desgastar, bolar planos de guerra pra nada!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;O bom combatente é aquele que sabe a hora de recuar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Chega de artilharia pesada a esmo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Agora só atiro na mosca!&lt;br /&gt;Igual ao Obama!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-583048124599461009?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/583048124599461009/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-amor-e-na-guerra.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/583048124599461009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/583048124599461009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-amor-e-na-guerra.html' title='No amor e na guerra...'/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjq6XW3yefI/AAAAAAAAAJs/cI63KrJlShk/s72-c/Battleships.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-7169687435806939923</id><published>2009-06-17T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T15:54:23.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjlyR1zgUAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/8lx5r9FD-Ks/s1600-h/c-27+w+constance+bennett.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjlyR1zgUAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/8lx5r9FD-Ks/s320/c-27+w+constance+bennett.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348431683305623554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Fino Coletivo - Hortelã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Há de sentir muita saudade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beijo bala de hortelã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do abraço exposto na cidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longas horas das manhãs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há de lembrar dos fins de tarde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em céu laranja o adeus do sol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o sabor do chocolate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em noites frias luva e lã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do tempo tido como eterno no início da paixão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pra sempre, sempre repetido nos sussurros do amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do sorvete dividido nas calçadas de verão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E dos segredos prometidos no primeiro réveillon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa a vida lhe trazer recordações&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-7169687435806939923?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/7169687435806939923/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/fino-coletivo-hortela-ha-de-sentir.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7169687435806939923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/7169687435806939923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/fino-coletivo-hortela-ha-de-sentir.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjlyR1zgUAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/8lx5r9FD-Ks/s72-c/c-27+w+constance+bennett.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2140613441576914059</id><published>2009-06-16T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T14:36:44.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjgNBNUS6aI/AAAAAAAAAJc/EkMX1SchYAs/s1600-h/sorria-para-a-foto_11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 316px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjgNBNUS6aI/AAAAAAAAAJc/EkMX1SchYAs/s320/sorria-para-a-foto_11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348038871908280738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Se há coisa que me irrita é o &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mal-Humor Alheio&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Eu sei que quando estou nos meus dias, viro a pior companhia que você pode querer. Mas a diferença é que eu sei quando estou cuspindo fogo feito um dragão e miro pra bem longe minha labaredas...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Vou dormir, ler um livro num canto isolada... sei lá! Qualquer coisa pra o seu &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"onde está o leite?"&lt;/span&gt; não ecoe &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"vá tomar no cú!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Mas tem gente que não se toca mesmo!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Passa o dia reclamando, fazendo cara feia pra tudo, chorando seu probleminhas &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(porque os dos outros são sempre probleminhas,né?)&lt;/span&gt; pra quem não interessa! Pode ser egoísmo meu... mas eu sou assim!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Não consigo, não sei, não gosto de ouvir reclamações! Não sei confortar pessoas... tá, não sou egoísta porque não espero isso de ninguém em relação a mim e não costumo usar o ouvido dos outros como pinico! Então... quero que a recíproca seja verdadeira!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ah................ se toca!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Se não pode fazer nada a respeito, não vai ser enchendo a porra do meu saco que alguma coisa vá mudar.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Siga meu exemplo &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(ui! sou um exemplo de pessoa! rsrs)&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SORRIA MEU BEM, SORRIA...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2140613441576914059?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2140613441576914059/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/se-ha-coisa-que-me-irrita-e-o-mal-humor.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2140613441576914059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2140613441576914059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/se-ha-coisa-que-me-irrita-e-o-mal-humor.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjgNBNUS6aI/AAAAAAAAAJc/EkMX1SchYAs/s72-c/sorria-para-a-foto_11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2503905152338931374</id><published>2009-06-15T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T12:55:57.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjam33zpsRI/AAAAAAAAAJU/IIoR8vs3lXE/s1600-h/pinup3bjpgpourwebxo1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjam33zpsRI/AAAAAAAAAJU/IIoR8vs3lXE/s320/pinup3bjpgpourwebxo1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347645086352650514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2  style="font-weight: normal;font-family:times new roman;" class="head"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Silvia Machete -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Simplesmente Mulher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;    &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;"Tantas, sou só uma e sou tantas&lt;br /&gt;Sou devassa e sou santa&lt;br /&gt;Recatada e vulgar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louca, tão centrada e tão louca&lt;br /&gt;Degustando em tua boca&lt;br /&gt;As delícias de amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me respeita e me abusa&lt;br /&gt;Me ame como quiser&lt;br /&gt;Simples demais ou confusa&lt;br /&gt;Sou simplesmente mulher"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2503905152338931374?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2503905152338931374/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/silvia-machete-simplesmente-mulher.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2503905152338931374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2503905152338931374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/silvia-machete-simplesmente-mulher.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/Sjam33zpsRI/AAAAAAAAAJU/IIoR8vs3lXE/s72-c/pinup3bjpgpourwebxo1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6048744673094220461</id><published>2009-06-14T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T14:26:58.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjVqhF3myII/AAAAAAAAAJE/-a1A-vSgCAw/s1600-h/blog3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 182px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjVqhF3myII/AAAAAAAAAJE/-a1A-vSgCAw/s320/blog3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347297249315965058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;Eu chego tão rápido quando imagino você me dizendo coisas sujas. Quase sinto seu corpo conta o meu. Seu hálito quente na minha orelha,  tua língua macia no meu pescoço, teus dentes no meu ombro. Uma mão no meu cabelo e a outra no meu quadril. Eu quase sinto você. O cheiro, o gosto, os sons, o toque... se eu abrir meu olhos no momento certo, tenho certeza que você vai estar lá. Sorrindo pra mim, com o prazer nos olhos, meu nome em sua boca e meu corpo em suas mãos. Mas eu não consigo, de olhos fechado a sensação se prolonga, você vem até mim e eu sei que, de alguma maneira, eu chego até você, ah... eu chego sim. Eu chego tão rápido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6048744673094220461?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6048744673094220461/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-chego-tao-rapido-quando-imagino-voce.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6048744673094220461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6048744673094220461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-chego-tao-rapido-quando-imagino-voce.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjVqhF3myII/AAAAAAAAAJE/-a1A-vSgCAw/s72-c/blog3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-6109303430654016567</id><published>2009-06-14T07:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T07:22:43.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjUHqeRNIiI/AAAAAAAAAI8/4l8dZobuypY/s1600-h/cupido1-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjUHqeRNIiI/AAAAAAAAAI8/4l8dZobuypY/s320/cupido1-full.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347188558833459746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai ver é realmente possível que alguém seja pré-destinado a só amar uma vez. Assisti um filme, que agora não me lembro o nome, onde foi feita uma pergunta que me fez pensar: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"pra quantas pessoas você já disse 'eu te amo'? Sabe, sem ser família, ou amigos..."&lt;/span&gt; Eu só disse pra uma pessoa. E eu não amo mais fazem muitos anos! Eu me senti tão estranha, nunca tinha parado pra pensar que só amei de verdade uma vez na vida. Paixões eu tive muitas, mas nada a ponte de dizer aquele eu te amo de boca cheia... Nesse meu último pseudo-relacionamento, eu achei que ficou um eu te amo preso na garganta, mas não valeria a pena ser dito, por isso guardei pra mim e sufoquei até passar, e passou! Ainda continuo um pouco decepcionada com esse cara, obcecada por outro, imaginando o que houve com um e dando graças a Deus de ter apagado o telefone daquele outro (ou então já teria feito uma besteira)... Mas nada de amor! Complicado né? Imagine na minha cabeça?! No meu coração?! Comecei a entrar naquela fazer de me culpar por essa sucessão de escolhas erradas, e isso acaba comigo. O que me faz sentir pior é que eu não sei se idealizo muitos as coisas, ou as pessoas, ou se tenho que me contentar com menos pra me satisfazer... só que menos nunca me satisfaz! Ai mas que coisa chata essa história de querer ser feliz! É difícil! Cansa, requer tempo e dedicação, em muitos casos a coisa não depende só de você, e hoje, sinceramente, me sinto completamente perdida nesse caminho. Ok, a não há caminho para felicidade, a felicidade é o caminho (não é isso que dizem?), mas porque não me sinto bem então? É... pra mim a resposta é que falta amor... falta amor na minha vida. Não de família, amigos ou de mim mesma... falta 'aquele' amor! O que eu não quero acreditar que só ocorra uma vez na vida, mas no qual eu quero acreditar que vai tirar meu flogo o mais rápido possível!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-6109303430654016567?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/6109303430654016567/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/vai-ver-e-realmente-possivel-que-alguem.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6109303430654016567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/6109303430654016567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/vai-ver-e-realmente-possivel-que-alguem.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjUHqeRNIiI/AAAAAAAAAI8/4l8dZobuypY/s72-c/cupido1-full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-4366566922211998465</id><published>2009-06-13T04:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T04:59:49.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjOUMkqTymI/AAAAAAAAAIs/J9DKo6qSNP4/s1600-h/deja-vu-kittehs-490.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjOUMkqTymI/AAAAAAAAAIs/J9DKo6qSNP4/s320/deja-vu-kittehs-490.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346780126339385954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Um déjà vu completamente furado...&lt;br /&gt;O mesmo lugar, a mesma banda, a mesma música, a mesma noite fria, algumas das mesmas pessoas... mas o personagem principal não estava lá. Por mais consciente que eu estivesse disso, meu olhos não deixavam de procurá-lo no meio dos seus amigos. Parece loucura, e deve ser mesmo. Eu sei que é. Estava tudo indo bem, minhas amigas na mesa, conversa fiada, cerveja gelada, a gente cantando junto, olhando o movimento ao redor, fazendo comentários maldosos, embriagadas e felizes! Mas minha mente não me deixava em paz! "Que horas ele vai passar por aquela porta? Qual dos amigos dele vai vir falar comigo pra eu poder fazer a pergunta que não quer calar: por onde anda J?" Nada disso aconteceu... a noite ficou mais fria, as músicas já não me embalavam, a cerveja não descia, a conversa não me incluía, as pessoas eu já não reconhecia.. a noite acabou e eu fui embora. Sozinha. Naquele ponto exato onde da última vez ele me ligou, eu rezei pra que Deus me mandasse um sinal divino! Naquele ponto exato onde da última vez ele me jogou na parede, eu pedi a Deus que aquilo acontecesse novamente... um déjà vu forçado por mim mesma, e que mesmo assim não visualizei. Fui dormi com frio, sozinha, bêbada e triste. Odeio esse tipo de fim de noite. Faz muito tempo que não tenho um desses. Normalmente volto pra casa e durmo com aquele sorriso de satisfação no rosto. Quando isso não acontece, começo a rever minha vida e por mais que eu seja uma pessoa que não faz grandes merdas, não é um balanço muito bom. Quero um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;delete&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; bem no meio da minha testa! Um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;ctrl+alt+del&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; não cairia nada mal também... Só assim. Porque se depender de mim, vou continuar procurando por ele a cada esquina, em cada festa, em todo show, por toda Lapa... Parece loucura, e deve ser mesmo. Eu sei que é.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-4366566922211998465?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/4366566922211998465/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/um-deja-vu-completamente-furado.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4366566922211998465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4366566922211998465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/um-deja-vu-completamente-furado.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjOUMkqTymI/AAAAAAAAAIs/J9DKo6qSNP4/s72-c/deja-vu-kittehs-490.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-2564463288858983550</id><published>2009-06-12T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T13:45:27.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-family: times new roman;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjK6BTPzEkI/AAAAAAAAAIk/c1NBU0On6qw/s1600-h/broken_heart_by_Lost_Suspicion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 282px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjK6BTPzEkI/AAAAAAAAAIk/c1NBU0On6qw/s320/broken_heart_by_Lost_Suspicion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346540239151370818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Nada de flores, chocolates ou bichos de pelúcia.&lt;br /&gt;Nada de cinema, jantar ou suíte de motel.&lt;br /&gt;Nada de carinhos, beijos ou declarações de amor.&lt;br /&gt;Nada de nada!&lt;br /&gt;Nada disso pra mim!!!&lt;br /&gt;Nenhum romantismo me comove hoje... muito pelo contrário: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;qualquer romantismo me revolta hoje!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Morte aos que amam!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tá bom, tá bom... não preciso ser tão radical. Mas Deus, por favor! Nada de cenas românticas pela rua hoje na minha frente. É chutar cachorro morto!!!&lt;br /&gt;Chove pra caralho, um frio horroroso e ainda passa &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dirty Dancing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em face="times new roman"&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;na sessão da tarde...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Já tá de bom tamanho, né?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Bem... dia12, Dia Dos Namorados;&lt;br /&gt;Dia13, Dia Dos Desesperados!&lt;br /&gt;Dia De Santo Antônio!!!&lt;br /&gt;E haja simpatia!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-2564463288858983550?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/2564463288858983550/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/nada-de-flores-chocolates-ou-bichos-de.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2564463288858983550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/2564463288858983550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/nada-de-flores-chocolates-ou-bichos-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjK6BTPzEkI/AAAAAAAAAIk/c1NBU0On6qw/s72-c/broken_heart_by_Lost_Suspicion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488926537353721037.post-4925994813023779774</id><published>2009-06-11T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T17:14:35.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGd2hnm-yI/AAAAAAAAAH4/oRE82fhx8Kw/s1600-h/babylon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGd2hnm-yI/AAAAAAAAAH4/oRE82fhx8Kw/s320/babylon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346227792728488738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"baby i'm so alone&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;viver a pão-de-ló e moet chandon&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gozar sem se preocupar com amanhã&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;baby baby babylon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;comprar o que houver au revoir ralé&lt;br /&gt;finesse s'il vous plait mon dieu je t'aime glamour&lt;br /&gt;manhattan by night&lt;br /&gt;passear de iate nos mares do pacífico sul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;baby i'm alive like a rolling stone&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vida é um souvenir made in hong kong&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vem ser feliz ao lado desse bon vivant&lt;br /&gt;vamos pra babylon&lt;br /&gt;baby baby babylon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de tudo provar champanhe caviar&lt;br /&gt;scotch escargot rayban bye bye miserê&lt;br /&gt;kaya now to me o céu seja aqui&lt;br /&gt;minha religião é o prazer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não tenho dinheiro pra pagar a minha ioga&lt;br /&gt;não tenho dinheiro pra bancar a minha droga&lt;br /&gt;eu não tenho renda pra descolar a merenda&lt;br /&gt;cansei de ser duro vou botar minh'alma à venda&lt;br /&gt;eu não tenho grana pra sair com o meu broto&lt;br /&gt;eu não compro roupa por isso que eu ando roto&lt;br /&gt;nada vem de graça nem o pão nem a cachaça&lt;br /&gt;quero ser caçador ando cansado de ser caça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ai morena viver é bom, esquece as penas vem morar comigo em Babylon"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488926537353721037-4925994813023779774?l=consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/feeds/4925994813023779774/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/baby-im-so-alone-vamos-pra-babylon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4925994813023779774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488926537353721037/posts/default/4925994813023779774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideracoes-finais.blogspot.com/2009/06/baby-im-so-alone-vamos-pra-babylon.html' title=''/><author><name>Andy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09497593496188446279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGhBqe-T2I/AAAAAAAAAIE/R5NPzOsE3SI/S220/DSC02734x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_02Fv3hX5WGw/SjGd2hnm-yI/AAAAAAAAAH4/oRE82fhx8Kw/s72-c/babylon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
