<?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-7469986259275816824</id><updated>2011-06-07T23:20:44.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempo que a gente não queria mais que acabasse!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Poeta impar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02727425402286011723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-4123002850366152090</id><published>2008-08-17T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T19:42:43.909-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Meu Infinito Particular"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Estive buscando outros "tons",&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da mesma cor,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do mesmo "mar"...&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estive buscando o impossível,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;como nunca admiti estar,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;como sempre insisti em buscar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Andei perdida em minha mente,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre ondas e tempestades,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naufragada em mim!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdida em pensamentos,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem saber aonde ir,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nem sequer onde estou...&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vagando entre lembranças,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;entre momentos que o tempo já levou...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;"&gt;ACFL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;14/08/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-4123002850366152090?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/4123002850366152090/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=4123002850366152090&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4123002850366152090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4123002850366152090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2008/08/meu-infinito-particular.html' title='&quot;Meu Infinito Particular&quot;'/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04023764356610401088</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/SDZk2hVlLxI/AAAAAAAAARg/A9iv7u_0b98/S220/P1030405.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-3379960969105328551</id><published>2008-03-30T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T10:06:58.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Genealogia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/R-_IFp9L3wI/AAAAAAAAAPI/0UPwIPpEgXM/s1600-h/Oper%C3%A1rios,+de+Tarsila+do+Amaral.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/R-_IFp9L3wI/AAAAAAAAAPI/0UPwIPpEgXM/s320/Oper%C3%A1rios,+de+Tarsila+do+Amaral.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183581695614115586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;A negra, a índia, a branca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;O índio, o branco, o negro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;A pele morena da avó&lt;br /&gt;O olho azul do avô&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;A veia portuguesa da avó&lt;br /&gt;A raiz negra do avô&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;Com os índios da terra,&lt;br /&gt;Com o negro aprisionado,&lt;br /&gt;Com o branco invasor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;Deu em olhos amarelos&lt;br /&gt;Em cabelos escorridos&lt;br /&gt;Em curvas fartas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;Deu em moreno forte&lt;br /&gt;De olhos negros&lt;br /&gt;De barba rala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Misturô”&lt;br /&gt;E se misturaram,&lt;br /&gt;Se misturam,&lt;br /&gt;Misturarão...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;ACFL &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;10/03/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Imagem: "Operários" - Tarcila do Amaral&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&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/7469986259275816824-3379960969105328551?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/3379960969105328551/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=3379960969105328551&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/3379960969105328551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/3379960969105328551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2008/03/genealogia.html' title='Genealogia'/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04023764356610401088</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/SDZk2hVlLxI/AAAAAAAAARg/A9iv7u_0b98/S220/P1030405.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/R-_IFp9L3wI/AAAAAAAAAPI/0UPwIPpEgXM/s72-c/Oper%C3%A1rios,+de+Tarsila+do+Amaral.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-6900889291545157656</id><published>2008-03-19T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T20:05:09.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>lembranças</title><content type='html'>ontem vi uma centopéia enquanto pedalava no caminho de volta pra casa...&lt;br /&gt;e lembrei-me do tempo em que uma pequena teve uma centopéia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ontem também vi uma garrafa de smirnof e uma de cicarelli* em outro trecho do caminho de volta pra casa.&lt;br /&gt;e senti a felicidade dos tempos em que magrelar é estar mais que feliz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ontem, eu lembrei de esquecer de lembrar de mim!&lt;br /&gt;bom assim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lembranças, lembranças, lembranças...&lt;br /&gt;jujubas, magrelas.&lt;br /&gt;sorrisos, olhares &lt;br /&gt;começos e fins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e tudo aqui,&lt;br /&gt;assim, em &lt;br /&gt;mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J.Fábio 19/03/2008&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-6900889291545157656?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/6900889291545157656/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=6900889291545157656&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/6900889291545157656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/6900889291545157656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2008/03/lembranas.html' title='lembranças'/><author><name>Poeta impar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02727425402286011723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-8746688180458689398</id><published>2008-02-25T18:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T19:03:27.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_hURvPu3VdQE/R8OBKkuinEI/AAAAAAAAABo/JPVUx4WE0wo/s1600-h/cora%C3%A7%C3%A3o+brota+em+arvore.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171118815809018946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_hURvPu3VdQE/R8OBKkuinEI/AAAAAAAAABo/JPVUx4WE0wo/s320/cora%C3%A7%C3%A3o+brota+em+arvore.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; sonhava que coração brotava em árvore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e saia voando pra atingir o primeiro que passasse.&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/7469986259275816824-8746688180458689398?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/8746688180458689398/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=8746688180458689398&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8746688180458689398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8746688180458689398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2008/02/sonhava-que-corao-brotava-em-rvore.html' title=''/><author><name>Mairla</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hURvPu3VdQE/SkuE7dz3MQI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Oqe_CLmogfA/S220/IMG_0233.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_hURvPu3VdQE/R8OBKkuinEI/AAAAAAAAABo/JPVUx4WE0wo/s72-c/cora%C3%A7%C3%A3o+brota+em+arvore.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-7694999006286270742</id><published>2008-01-22T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T21:36:39.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>neura</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/R5bSNkTyr5I/AAAAAAAAABA/qU6W6XXpC9A/s1600-h/1b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158541553726304146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/R5bSNkTyr5I/AAAAAAAAABA/qU6W6XXpC9A/s320/1b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;já é tarde e eu me sinto só&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;posso ver saturno da janela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;ou deitar na cama sem cheiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;ou escrever palavras cansadas de gritar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;seria minha nova neura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;querer saber como você está?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;já é tarde e eu me sinto só&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;pensei até em jantar novamente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;ou escolher algum livro empoeirado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;ou descobrir novas funções do celular&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;seria minha nova neura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;querer saber onde você está?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;já é tarde e eu me sinto só&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;sempre soube que não seria fácil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;e que os caminhos são diversos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;mas comprei um mapa turístico pra te procurar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;agora tenho uma novíssima neura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;te encontrar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;espero que não seja tarde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;pois o mundo tem o vício de correr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;teu sorriso é um filme em mim&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;fecho os olhos pra te encontrar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;minha novissíssima neura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"&gt;é te beijar!&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/7469986259275816824-7694999006286270742?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/7694999006286270742/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=7694999006286270742&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/7694999006286270742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/7694999006286270742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2008/01/neura.html' title='neura'/><author><name>Lennon Fernandes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02139531506455943883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/SqnMQp0KD_I/AAAAAAAAAeY/vqcGaK54drs/S220/1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/R5bSNkTyr5I/AAAAAAAAABA/qU6W6XXpC9A/s72-c/1b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-983171613404337887</id><published>2007-12-13T04:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T08:28:33.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>04</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_1sRs63MYKDs/R2DbnIf8hhI/AAAAAAAAAHc/q6bcsXWQQSg/s1600-h/alegoria+aos+4+alementos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_1sRs63MYKDs/R2DbnIf8hhI/AAAAAAAAAHc/q6bcsXWQQSg/s400/alegoria+aos+4+alementos.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143352239799961106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;furta-cor,&lt;br /&gt;fruta-amor,&lt;br /&gt;beija-flor;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fruta-flor,&lt;br /&gt;beija-cor,&lt;br /&gt;furta-amor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;beija-amor,&lt;br /&gt;furta-flor,&lt;br /&gt;fruta-cor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;beija-dor,&lt;br /&gt;fruta-dor;&lt;br /&gt;furta-dor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ela-flor,&lt;br /&gt;ela-cor,&lt;br /&gt;ela-amor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J.Fábio 13/12/2007&lt;br /&gt;imagem: alegoria aos 4 elementos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*P.S: to com sono, depois eu irei modificar isso!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-983171613404337887?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/983171613404337887/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=983171613404337887&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/983171613404337887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/983171613404337887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/12/ela.html' title='04'/><author><name>Poeta impar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02727425402286011723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_1sRs63MYKDs/R2DbnIf8hhI/AAAAAAAAAHc/q6bcsXWQQSg/s72-c/alegoria+aos+4+alementos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-7861995112954427409</id><published>2007-12-06T04:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T04:29:32.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LABIRINTO</title><content type='html'>Vez ou outra, volta a vista para cima para ver algo que não seja rochoso e cinza. As pernas chegam a doer, só que é preciso seguir em frente. Ou quem sabe até voltar. O que dizer de uma sensação que não se define? A prisão da solidão acabando libertando, só que quase ninguém sabe disso.&lt;br /&gt;Desistiu da idéia de marcar locais. Quando não se sabe onde está, todo lugar é igual. Quem se perde no espaço acaba misturando os tempos. Conciliando a aparente contradição: é diferente e ao mesmo tempo igual. O saber é desnecessário.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-7861995112954427409?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/7861995112954427409/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=7861995112954427409&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/7861995112954427409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/7861995112954427409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/12/labirinto.html' title='LABIRINTO'/><author><name>D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07312262073384516735</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-4187343801494754048</id><published>2007-11-11T06:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T06:51:46.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/RzcW2tPktKI/AAAAAAAAAIo/MTNutEuYI28/s1600-h/sem+tÃ&amp;shy;tulo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131595429525632162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/RzcW2tPktKI/AAAAAAAAAIo/MTNutEuYI28/s320/sem+t%C3%ADtulo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Perdoem-me os métricos&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo pensar assim, numa forma definida&lt;br /&gt;Minhas palavras não são calculadas&lt;br /&gt;Meus versos não rimam&lt;br /&gt;Minhas flores não se ligam a amores&lt;br /&gt;E meu céu não tem nem uma gota de mel,&lt;br /&gt;Tampouco de fel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desculpem-me os poetas&lt;br /&gt;Por chamar essas linhas de poesia!&lt;br /&gt;Desculpem-me, peço perdão!&lt;br /&gt;Por gastar mais uma folha em vão!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ACFL&lt;br /&gt;02/03/2007&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-4187343801494754048?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/4187343801494754048/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=4187343801494754048&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4187343801494754048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4187343801494754048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/11/perdoem-me-os-mtricos-no-consigo-pensar.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04023764356610401088</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/SDZk2hVlLxI/AAAAAAAAARg/A9iv7u_0b98/S220/P1030405.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/RzcW2tPktKI/AAAAAAAAAIo/MTNutEuYI28/s72-c/sem+t%C3%ADtulo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-3734166760773419389</id><published>2007-11-02T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T04:43:10.654-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/RysNLsLvqAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/b5BxVBr77Uo/s1600-h/cachaca2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/RysNLsLvqAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/b5BxVBr77Uo/s320/cachaca2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128207095181584386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Anti-monotonia&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Para evitar a apatia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;utilizar doses de exagero,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;descontrole e desmedida &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no mínimo uma vez por dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/7469986259275816824-3734166760773419389?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/3734166760773419389/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=3734166760773419389&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/3734166760773419389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/3734166760773419389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/11/anti-monotonia-para-evitar-apatia.html' title=''/><author><name>O herói sem nunhum caráter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01837329091599477259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/SgLTo86gncI/AAAAAAAAACU/LoB7wh6YSEs/S220/coringa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/RysNLsLvqAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/b5BxVBr77Uo/s72-c/cachaca2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-4316366868912140228</id><published>2007-10-19T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T08:48:35.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tarde sem título</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/RxjQqg4K8bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/FtN2sBQud50/s1600-h/PICT0113.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123074004932555186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/RxjQqg4K8bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/FtN2sBQud50/s320/PICT0113.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;olhei fundo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;além do que esperava ver&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;aquela pele...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;agora permanece inquietamente&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;com seu gosto nos meus lábios&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;e tão pouco tempo que passou&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;e a tão simples memória que me resta&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;não sei o que fazer com a vontade de gritar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;ver você com outra pessoa me fez outro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;outro sempre eu mesmo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;minha fraqueza&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;aprendendo à acariciar a liberdade com a mão esquerda&lt;/em&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/7469986259275816824-4316366868912140228?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/4316366868912140228/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=4316366868912140228&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4316366868912140228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4316366868912140228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/10/tarde-sem-ttulo.html' title='tarde sem título'/><author><name>Lennon Fernandes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02139531506455943883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/SqnMQp0KD_I/AAAAAAAAAeY/vqcGaK54drs/S220/1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/RxjQqg4K8bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/FtN2sBQud50/s72-c/PICT0113.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-7843396628442314662</id><published>2007-10-16T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T20:35:56.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cárcere</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;As olheiras lhe tomam quase metade do rosto, escondem a sua beleza juvenil e mostram de que são feitos os seus dias. Não sabe ao certo porque mas é preciso correr. Cada vez mais. Se era a semana que passava rápido, hoje são os meses. amanhã quem sabe serão as décadas. Não saberia continuar a viver ser não lhe falassem como. fazer. Na rigidez dos seus gestos está impresso o seu desencantamento. Por dentro um  Frio. Guardado.Embrulhado.Sem cheiro. Que nunca conseguiu se livrar disto tudo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-7843396628442314662?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/7843396628442314662/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=7843396628442314662&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/7843396628442314662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/7843396628442314662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/10/crcere.html' title='Cárcere'/><author><name>D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07312262073384516735</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-8750961328769460357</id><published>2007-10-06T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T17:00:22.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Relato II</title><content type='html'>da porta viu-se primeiro&lt;br /&gt;uma grande pilha de cascalhos &lt;br /&gt;em uma calçada a esquerda dele,&lt;br /&gt;a estrada era de terra,&lt;br /&gt;e lá na frente a direita&lt;br /&gt;tinha um terreno baldio,&lt;br /&gt;eles passeavam nas horas dos&lt;br /&gt;pardais da noite... &lt;br /&gt;e outro observava sorrindo&lt;br /&gt;a beleza de passos alheios&lt;br /&gt;como se algo pequeno e mágico acontecesse naquele exato instante!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;J.Fábio 07/10/2007&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-8750961328769460357?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/8750961328769460357/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=8750961328769460357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8750961328769460357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8750961328769460357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/10/relatos-ii.html' title='Relato II'/><author><name>Poeta impar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02727425402286011723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-8686281722240752540</id><published>2007-09-27T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T14:37:56.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não adiantaria eu lhe pegar na palma de minha mão. Te acolher e te lembrar daquilo que cada dia mais se apaga de você. Chega um momento em que o corpo pára de crescer, a cor passa a sumir. Se quer sentir, o melhor a fazer é se deixar perder. O verde cada dia mais amarelo. Se quer amadurecer a melhor coisa a fazer é se preparar para acabar no chão. O verde cada dia mais amarelo. Que nem teu sorriso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-8686281722240752540?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='image/jpeg' href='http://pwp.netcabo.pt/0516261101/imagens/folha.jpg' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/8686281722240752540/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=8686281722240752540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8686281722240752540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8686281722240752540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-adiantaria-eu-lhe-pegar-na-palma-de.html' title=''/><author><name>D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07312262073384516735</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-2307488542953461590</id><published>2007-09-23T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T19:23:53.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/RvcfZzIJEYI/AAAAAAAAAG4/IubYaQKOw1Q/s1600-h/01.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113590429984035202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/RvcfZzIJEYI/AAAAAAAAAG4/IubYaQKOw1Q/s320/01.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ontem não dormi, passei a noite a te esperar&lt;br /&gt;Ontem sorri, pra vc me notar&lt;br /&gt;Ontem vivi, só por viver&lt;br /&gt;Ontem me calei, pra ninguém me ver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje acordei, com uma imensa vontade de não acordar&lt;br /&gt;Hoje sorri, querendo chorar&lt;br /&gt;Hoje amei a quem queria odiar&lt;br /&gt;Hoje gritei... sem ninguém escutar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã quero acordar e viver&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã quero parar de sofrer&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã eu quero simplesmente poder amar&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã quero falar, baixinho, só pra mim escutar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-2307488542953461590?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/2307488542953461590/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=2307488542953461590&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/2307488542953461590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/2307488542953461590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/09/tempo.html' title='Tempo'/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04023764356610401088</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/SDZk2hVlLxI/AAAAAAAAARg/A9iv7u_0b98/S220/P1030405.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_35D5qBnJVmI/RvcfZzIJEYI/AAAAAAAAAG4/IubYaQKOw1Q/s72-c/01.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-4893900197986733281</id><published>2007-09-22T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T08:51:32.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/RvU2aEIfnyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L2XClzSwbGM/s1600-h/sombra.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113052773362933538" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/RvU2aEIfnyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L2XClzSwbGM/s320/sombra.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;sem a noção do tempo&lt;br /&gt;deixo o vento me tocar /&lt;br /&gt;como uma virgem pronta&lt;br /&gt;para descobrir o que não&lt;br /&gt;deve se ter medo /&lt;br /&gt;e só de pensar em sair correndo&lt;br /&gt;estou perdido em mais um sorriso /&lt;br /&gt;mais um olhar que me encanta&lt;br /&gt;e me faz sentir calor /&lt;br /&gt;quero esses lábios na minha história&lt;br /&gt;curta&lt;br /&gt;sem frescura&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-4893900197986733281?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/4893900197986733281/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=4893900197986733281&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4893900197986733281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/4893900197986733281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/09/sem-noo-do-tempo-deixo-o-vento-me-tocar.html' title=''/><author><name>Lennon Fernandes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02139531506455943883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/SqnMQp0KD_I/AAAAAAAAAeY/vqcGaK54drs/S220/1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BeqxsFrwVXM/RvU2aEIfnyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L2XClzSwbGM/s72-c/sombra.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-8861077148599763197</id><published>2007-09-19T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T10:36:11.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia Comum</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/RvFd1r4uF8I/AAAAAAAAAAM/ANPBk7Awlxc/s1600-h/Relogio.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/RvFd1r4uF8I/AAAAAAAAAAM/ANPBk7Awlxc/s320/Relogio.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111970228937299906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sete da manhã acordo&lt;br /&gt;antes de levantar faço minhas reflexões matinais&lt;br /&gt;assim como quem reza antes de dormir...&lt;br /&gt;chego a conclusão de que o mundo é um lugar tosco&lt;br /&gt;e que isso rende bons filmes&lt;br /&gt;e que se refletir demais chego atrasado!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiago Souza - 09/2007&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-8861077148599763197?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/8861077148599763197/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=8861077148599763197&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8861077148599763197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/8861077148599763197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/09/dia-comum.html' title='Dia Comum'/><author><name>O herói sem nunhum caráter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01837329091599477259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/SgLTo86gncI/AAAAAAAAACU/LoB7wh6YSEs/S220/coringa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_y2Yq_DhCmiI/RvFd1r4uF8I/AAAAAAAAAAM/ANPBk7Awlxc/s72-c/Relogio.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-3268132952658756903</id><published>2007-09-17T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T07:52:47.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>É tempo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_1sRs63MYKDs/Ru9LKqAslJI/AAAAAAAAAEE/z1YHqFn_Vd4/s1600-h/cavalgando+no+tempo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_1sRs63MYKDs/Ru9LKqAslJI/AAAAAAAAAEE/z1YHqFn_Vd4/s400/cavalgando+no+tempo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111386748536788114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As boas novas já se foram!&lt;br /&gt;mas é tempo...&lt;br /&gt;o mundo está concertado.&lt;br /&gt;ainda é tempo...&lt;br /&gt;já amei, corri, chorei, sangrei, gozei!&lt;br /&gt;e continua o tempo...&lt;br /&gt;com seus seios, mãos, enchimentos, pequena!&lt;br /&gt;e o tempo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No corpo cicatrizes, cheiros, gestos, sons;&lt;br /&gt;não se vão com  tempo.&lt;br /&gt;onde estava o tempo quando estive naquele lugar?&lt;br /&gt;onde eram os lugares daquele tempo?&lt;br /&gt;tempo não-corrido; hoje desvivido!&lt;br /&gt;lugar sem espaços, nem coisas;&lt;br /&gt;tempo-espaço sem sentido!&lt;br /&gt;gritos a noite sem ter tido...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motivos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo esta como no não sempre.&lt;br /&gt;      sem te dor&lt;br /&gt;    sem ter do&lt;br /&gt; sem te dou.&lt;br /&gt;sem te do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J.Fábio 16/07/2007&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-3268132952658756903?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/3268132952658756903/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=3268132952658756903&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/3268132952658756903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/3268132952658756903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/09/e-tempo.html' title='É tempo...'/><author><name>Poeta impar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02727425402286011723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_1sRs63MYKDs/Ru9LKqAslJI/AAAAAAAAAEE/z1YHqFn_Vd4/s72-c/cavalgando+no+tempo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469986259275816824.post-6548633291266974645</id><published>2007-08-30T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T21:53:44.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>testes...</title><content type='html'>mais testes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7469986259275816824-6548633291266974645?l=pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/feeds/6548633291266974645/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7469986259275816824&amp;postID=6548633291266974645&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/6548633291266974645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7469986259275816824/posts/default/6548633291266974645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pequenosrelatosdesupostasvidas.blogspot.com/2007/08/testes.html' title='testes...'/><author><name>Poeta impar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02727425402286011723</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
