<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:25:42 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Another Woman</title><description>CECILY: I keep a diary in order to enter the wonderful secrets of my life. If I didn't write them down, I should probably forget all about them.

MISS PRISM: Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.

CECILY: Yes, but it usually chronicles the things that have never happened, and couldn't possibly have happened.

Oscar Wilde</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>829</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-5760372653133950406</guid><pubDate>Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-16T22:25:42.620Z</atom:updated><title>It was late, late in the evening,the lovers they were gone</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyleIGu0jOI/AAAAAAAAA2c/YfPO7W1GZWI/s1600-h/dh630.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 279px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415963520228691170" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyleIGu0jOI/AAAAAAAAA2c/YfPO7W1GZWI/s400/dh630.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;'O plunge your hands in water, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Plunge them in up to the wrist;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stare, stare in the basin &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And wonder what you've missed.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;W. H. Auden&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Frase do Dia: Life remains a blessing although you cannot bless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-5760372653133950406?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-was-late-late-in-eveningthe-lovers.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyleIGu0jOI/AAAAAAAAA2c/YfPO7W1GZWI/s72-c/dh630.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-5082399001630261571</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 Dec 2009 22:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-15T22:17:34.422Z</atom:updated><title>You come to me quiet as rain not yet fallen afraid of how you might fail yourself</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SygKWkS25BI/AAAAAAAAA2U/UuiosplMktQ/s1600-h/img076.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415589934729192466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SygKWkS25BI/AAAAAAAAA2U/UuiosplMktQ/s400/img076.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have changed the numbers on my watch,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now perhaps something else will change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now perhaps&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At precisely 2a.m.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You will not get up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And gathering your things together&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Brian Patten&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ideia do Dia: Easier now to check longings and sentiment,to pretend not to care overmuch&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-5082399001630261571?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-come-to-me-quiet-as-rain-not-yet.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SygKWkS25BI/AAAAAAAAA2U/UuiosplMktQ/s72-c/img076.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-8174026290281362033</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 Dec 2009 21:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-15T21:41:08.759Z</atom:updated><title>It sounded like the truth</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SygCYjHdKcI/AAAAAAAAA2M/EwQVDUSH-SQ/s1600-h/fairspotcom-tony-duran.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 350px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415581172679649730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SygCYjHdKcI/AAAAAAAAA2M/EwQVDUSH-SQ/s400/fairspotcom-tony-duran.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It seemed the better way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When first I heard him speak&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But now it's much too late&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To turn the other cheek&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(leonard cohen)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Questão do Dia: I wonder what it was I wonder what it meant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-8174026290281362033?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-sounded-like-truth.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SygCYjHdKcI/AAAAAAAAA2M/EwQVDUSH-SQ/s72-c/fairspotcom-tony-duran.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-6580871294144317869</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 Dec 2009 16:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-15T16:36:27.098Z</atom:updated><title>gather up our hearts and go</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sye646Iyj1I/AAAAAAAAA2E/MKOTc07wmKU/s1600-h/doutzen-kroes-testino-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415502563777875794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sye646Iyj1I/AAAAAAAAA2E/MKOTc07wmKU/s400/doutzen-kroes-testino-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’m turning tricks, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’m getting fixed,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And quiet is the thought of you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The file on you complete.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do dia: The odds are here to beat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-6580871294144317869?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/gather-up-our-hearts-and-go.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sye646Iyj1I/AAAAAAAAA2E/MKOTc07wmKU/s72-c/doutzen-kroes-testino-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-1408288964362751892</guid><pubDate>Mon, 14 Dec 2009 11:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-14T11:45:46.553Z</atom:updated><title>The Clock Was Ticking</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyYlRfwV4TI/AAAAAAAAA18/2mAvS6b5bmU/s1600-h/2008-tony-duran03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415056584471863602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyYlRfwV4TI/AAAAAAAAA18/2mAvS6b5bmU/s400/2008-tony-duran03.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alice&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ressaca do Dia : I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, Sir, because I'm not myself you see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-1408288964362751892?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/clock-was-ticking.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyYlRfwV4TI/AAAAAAAAA18/2mAvS6b5bmU/s72-c/2008-tony-duran03.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-264009996701532842</guid><pubDate>Sat, 12 Dec 2009 09:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-12T09:55:56.086Z</atom:updated><title>Esvaziar-me de coisas incertas</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyNnQMUelpI/AAAAAAAAA10/ai86T3-etYk/s1600-h/globo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 307px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414284704912152210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyNnQMUelpI/AAAAAAAAA10/ai86T3-etYk/s400/globo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Pergunto onde está a transparência do&lt;br /&gt;vidro, a pureza do líquido inicial, a energia&lt;br /&gt;de quem procura esvaziar a garrafa; e a resposta&lt;br /&gt;são estes cacos que nos cortam as mãos, a mesa&lt;br /&gt;da alma suja de restos, palavras espalhadas&lt;br /&gt;num cansaço de sentidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nuno Júdice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Conselho do Dia: Vê de longe a vida. Nunca a interrogues. Ela nada pode Dizer-te. A resposta Está além dos deuses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-264009996701532842?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/esvaziar-me-de-coisas-incertas.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyNnQMUelpI/AAAAAAAAA10/ai86T3-etYk/s72-c/globo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-653284244480844300</guid><pubDate>Thu, 10 Dec 2009 16:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-10T16:50:13.154Z</atom:updated><title>grito</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyElyRj7ElI/AAAAAAAAA1o/5Iz2v3MXv1I/s1600-h/bed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413649772713808466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyElyRj7ElI/AAAAAAAAA1o/5Iz2v3MXv1I/s400/bed.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Não posso adiar ainda que a noite pese séculos sobre as costas e a aurora indecisa demore&lt;br /&gt;não posso adiar para outro século a minha vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Levamos toda a vida morrendo em surdina.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&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/10369250-653284244480844300?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/grito.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyElyRj7ElI/AAAAAAAAA1o/5Iz2v3MXv1I/s72-c/bed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-1074591423558569772</guid><pubDate>Thu, 10 Dec 2009 16:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-10T16:43:17.916Z</atom:updated><title>insignificância, gratuita e desvalida</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyEkuPFWz-I/AAAAAAAAA1g/VruD_4_RtJQ/s1600-h/trapped.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413648603817627618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyEkuPFWz-I/AAAAAAAAA1g/VruD_4_RtJQ/s400/trapped.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Eu sei que o meu desespero não interessa a ninguém.&lt;br /&gt;Cada um tem o seu, pessoal e intransmissível:&lt;br /&gt;com ele se entretém e se julga intangível.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: Amostra Sem Valor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-1074591423558569772?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/insignificancia-gratuita-e-desvalida.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SyEkuPFWz-I/AAAAAAAAA1g/VruD_4_RtJQ/s72-c/trapped.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-8809016939345198178</guid><pubDate>Tue, 08 Dec 2009 22:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-08T22:33:56.868Z</atom:updated><title>a outra metade ?</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sx7TXrsd8VI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/HYG5XgtbRg8/s1600-h/osvaldo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412996205965603154" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sx7TXrsd8VI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/HYG5XgtbRg8/s400/osvaldo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que as palavras que eu falo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não sejam ouvidas como prece e nem repetidas com fervor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apenas respeitadas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como a única coisa que resta a um homem inundado de sentimentos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porque metade de mim é o que ouço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas a outra metade é o que calo.&lt;br /&gt;Que essa minha vontade de ir embora&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se transforme na calma e na paz que eu mereço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que essa tensão que me corrói por dentro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seja um dia recompensada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porque metade de mim é o que eu penso mas a outra metade é um vulcão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oswaldo Montenegro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: metade de mim é a lembrança do que fui, a outra metade eu não sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-8809016939345198178?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/12/metade-de-mim-e-abrigo-outra-metade-e.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sx7TXrsd8VI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/HYG5XgtbRg8/s72-c/osvaldo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-7702672480417423475</guid><pubDate>Mon, 30 Nov 2009 22:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-30T22:07:37.327Z</atom:updated><title>everything was just a game</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxRBCHLfJbI/AAAAAAAAA0w/9rz9C9vco8I/s1600/hurt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410020556921578930" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxRBCHLfJbI/AAAAAAAAA0w/9rz9C9vco8I/s400/hurt.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you don't get to taste the honey, without thesting of a bee ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you stung me good, oh yeah you dug in deep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;mmmmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;mmmmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;mmmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pergunta do Dia: Must I walk a thousand miles on broken glass?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-7702672480417423475?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/everything-was-just-game.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxRBCHLfJbI/AAAAAAAAA0w/9rz9C9vco8I/s72-c/hurt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-6253806158243850917</guid><pubDate>Mon, 30 Nov 2009 21:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-30T21:59:09.393Z</atom:updated><title>it's a little late for conversations</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxQ_lapUAeI/AAAAAAAAA0o/MX1rMExd3AE/s1600/hush.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410018964419117538" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxQ_lapUAeI/AAAAAAAAA0o/MX1rMExd3AE/s400/hush.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never needed words&lt;br /&gt;I never needed hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mood:Broken, not defeated&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-6253806158243850917?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-little-late-for-conversations.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxQ_lapUAeI/AAAAAAAAA0o/MX1rMExd3AE/s72-c/hush.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-2535612847670418142</guid><pubDate>Sun, 29 Nov 2009 20:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-30T22:09:08.334Z</atom:updated><title>You could be my unintended</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxLT4eZFOLI/AAAAAAAAA0g/YWf7VS4QRv4/s1600/unintended.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409619069609785522" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxLT4eZFOLI/AAAAAAAAA0g/YWf7VS4QRv4/s400/unintended.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm busy mending broken pieces &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: where is the one who listened to my deepest inquisitions ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-2535612847670418142?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-could-be-my-unintended.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SxLT4eZFOLI/AAAAAAAAA0g/YWf7VS4QRv4/s72-c/unintended.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-9142045949774835367</guid><pubDate>Tue, 24 Nov 2009 20:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-24T20:16:36.703Z</atom:updated><title>By now you should've somehow realized what you're not to do</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sww_G_O1zSI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/70NUfsCn5bs/s1600/9433_1065096167023_1814583379_145574_3879001_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407766641850567970" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sww_G_O1zSI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/70NUfsCn5bs/s400/9433_1065096167023_1814583379_145574_3879001_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And all the roads we have to walk along are winding&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And all the lights that lead us there are blinding &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are many things that I would Like to say to you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know how&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia : I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-9142045949774835367?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/by-now-you-shouldve-somehow-realized.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Sww_G_O1zSI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/70NUfsCn5bs/s72-c/9433_1065096167023_1814583379_145574_3879001_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-6948138976154804823</guid><pubDate>Sun, 22 Nov 2009 01:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-22T01:29:52.368Z</atom:updated><title>I am! yet what I am none cares or knows</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwiT21PgBOI/AAAAAAAAAyo/kyJvecwjZLQ/s1600/for.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 316px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406733922872591586" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwiT21PgBOI/AAAAAAAAAyo/kyJvecwjZLQ/s400/for.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwiTaxiS9KI/AAAAAAAAAyg/-szG89Jpbxs/s1600/forsaken.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm Nobody! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there's a pair of us?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: forsaken like a memory lost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(John Clare &amp;amp; Emily Dickinson)&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/10369250-6948138976154804823?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-yet-what-i-am-none-cares-or-knows.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwiT21PgBOI/AAAAAAAAAyo/kyJvecwjZLQ/s72-c/for.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-7510564851231510077</guid><pubDate>Tue, 17 Nov 2009 11:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-30T22:10:32.233Z</atom:updated><title>Come carry me home</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwKJyUv6qiI/AAAAAAAAAyA/fvK_F1tvhr4/s1600/mert_marcus4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 301px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405034000454167074" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwKJyUv6qiI/AAAAAAAAAyA/fvK_F1tvhr4/s400/mert_marcus4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tu és o nó de sangue que me sufoca.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dormes na minha insónia como o aroma entre os tendões&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;da madeira fria. És uma faca cravada na minha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;vida secreta. E como estrelas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;duplas consanguíneas, luzimos de um para o outro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;nas trevas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;mmmmmmmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Herberto Helder&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sentimento do Dia: Medo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-7510564851231510077?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/come-carry-me-home.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwKJyUv6qiI/AAAAAAAAAyA/fvK_F1tvhr4/s72-c/mert_marcus4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-635611202985917010</guid><pubDate>Tue, 17 Nov 2009 11:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-17T11:27:47.644Z</atom:updated><title>Noite em branco</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwKIKzRefrI/AAAAAAAAAx4/CNWB_qTWe7c/s1600/kill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405032221941595826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwKIKzRefrI/AAAAAAAAAx4/CNWB_qTWe7c/s400/kill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Há noites que nos levam para onde&lt;br /&gt;O fantasma de nos fica mais perto;&lt;br /&gt;E é sempre a nossa voz que nos responde&lt;br /&gt;E só o nosso nome estava certo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Questão do Dia : Perversidade de uma paz futura, onde só chegaremos de caixão?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Natália Correia)&lt;/em&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/10369250-635611202985917010?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/noite-em-branco.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwKIKzRefrI/AAAAAAAAAx4/CNWB_qTWe7c/s72-c/kill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-2702790017105026359</guid><pubDate>Sun, 15 Nov 2009 21:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-15T21:12:52.896Z</atom:updated><title>Wandering around in silent wonder</title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwBtDbnNYgI/AAAAAAAAAxw/wo5CXZOSEVE/s1600-h/tv.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404439458563842562" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwBtDbnNYgI/AAAAAAAAAxw/wo5CXZOSEVE/s400/tv.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I stop and I stare too much&lt;br /&gt;Afraid that I care too much&lt;br /&gt;And I hardly dare to touch&lt;br /&gt;For fear that the spell may be broken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ideia do Dia: Taken in by the delicate noise, knocked to the ground by the subtle thunder.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(depeche mode lyrics)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-2702790017105026359?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/wandering-around-in-silent-wonder.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SwBtDbnNYgI/AAAAAAAAAxw/wo5CXZOSEVE/s72-c/tv.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-8490924789540802925</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Nov 2009 10:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-10T10:53:02.891Z</atom:updated><title>I never wonder how the boy feels</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SvlE7C-QJ2I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/FvpGI8NZfxI/s1600-h/worldwar2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402425009208567650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SvlE7C-QJ2I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/FvpGI8NZfxI/s400/worldwar2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Katherine, kiss me flick your cigarette, then kiss me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: Sometimes I say the stupid things I think I mean sometimes I think the stupidest things &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Franz Ferdinand&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-8490924789540802925?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-never-wonder-how-boy-feels.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SvlE7C-QJ2I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/FvpGI8NZfxI/s72-c/worldwar2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-4797146378599013898</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Nov 2009 18:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-08T18:54:16.370Z</atom:updated><title>I take a breath and grab the phone ...Secretly hoping you're not home</title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SvcStlXVo9I/AAAAAAAAAxI/SUzPFiiVkac/s1600-h/9433_1068615575006_1814583379_152243_8209698_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401806852387611602" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SvcStlXVo9I/AAAAAAAAAxI/SUzPFiiVkac/s400/9433_1068615575006_1814583379_152243_8209698_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If I lay here&lt;br /&gt;If I just lay here&lt;br /&gt;Would you lie with me and just forget the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia : I need your grace to remind me to find my own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-4797146378599013898?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-take-breath-and-grab-phone-secretly.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SvcStlXVo9I/AAAAAAAAAxI/SUzPFiiVkac/s72-c/9433_1068615575006_1814583379_152243_8209698_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-1887444438837376366</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Nov 2009 21:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-01T22:02:10.218Z</atom:updated><title>Pão duro da solidão</title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Su4Ep6qtpcI/AAAAAAAAAxA/pgP9HsOQZQA/s1600-h/romy-schneider_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 342px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399258121433359810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Su4Ep6qtpcI/AAAAAAAAAxA/pgP9HsOQZQA/s400/romy-schneider_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Su4Dn9zU1fI/AAAAAAAAAw4/zq63aAvX01g/s1600-h/lips.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Todo o amor que nos prendera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como se fora de cera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se quebrava e desfazia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ai funesta primavera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quem me dera, quem nos dera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ter morrido nesse dia &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mariza&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Composição: David Mourão-Ferreira e Pedro Rodrigues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: Viver, viver e sem ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/10369250-1887444438837376366?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/11/pao-duro-da-solidao.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/Su4Ep6qtpcI/AAAAAAAAAxA/pgP9HsOQZQA/s72-c/romy-schneider_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-7240569082733588813</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 21:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-18T23:00:39.564+01:00</atom:updated><title>inúteis as palavras quando o silêncio é maior</title><description>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/StuPDCAc_hI/AAAAAAAAAwY/1ppuDtHxuxA/s1600-h/9433_1064969643860_1814583379_145181_7146363_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394062260947451410" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/StuPDCAc_hI/AAAAAAAAAwY/1ppuDtHxuxA/s400/9433_1064969643860_1814583379_145181_7146363_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se um português marinheiro,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;dos sete mares andarilho,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;fosse quem sabe o primeiro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;mmmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a contar-me o que inventasse,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;se um olhar de novo brilho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;no meu olhar se enlaçasse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;BBBBBBBBBBBBB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;BBBBBBBBB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia: mergulhar numa piscina sem água&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-7240569082733588813?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/10/inuteis-as-palavras-quando-o-silencio-e.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/StuPDCAc_hI/AAAAAAAAAwY/1ppuDtHxuxA/s72-c/9433_1064969643860_1814583379_145181_7146363_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-8027707617726637272</guid><pubDate>Tue, 13 Oct 2009 14:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-13T15:25:41.673+01:00</atom:updated><title>O teu silêncio</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/StSMF_h81KI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/HIEtb9NxTjU/s1600-h/uk5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392088688450393250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/StSMF_h81KI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/HIEtb9NxTjU/s400/uk5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;é uma nau com todas as velas pandas... Brandas, as brisas brincam nas flâmulas, teu sorriso...&lt;br /&gt;E o teu sorriso no teu silêncio é as escadas e as andas&lt;br /&gt;Com que me finjo mais alto e ao pé de qualquer paraiso...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ideia do dia: Ah, deixa que eu te ignore... O teu silêncio é um leque ... Um leque fechado, um leque que aberto seria tão belo, tão belo, Mas mais belo é não o abrir ...&lt;/strong&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/10369250-8027707617726637272?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-teu-silencio.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/StSMF_h81KI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/HIEtb9NxTjU/s72-c/uk5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-6185886570558445381</guid><pubDate>Mon, 05 Oct 2009 20:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-05T21:48:42.622+01:00</atom:updated><title>Não demores tão longe</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SspbaapplJI/AAAAAAAAAwI/8kQWs2YsM8M/s1600-h/9433_1065210809889_1814583379_145813_1219886_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389220413490959506" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SspbaapplJI/AAAAAAAAAwI/8kQWs2YsM8M/s400/9433_1065210809889_1814583379_145813_1219886_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aparece-me agora, que ainda reconheço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;a anêmona aberta na tua face &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;e em redor dos muros o vento inimigo... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apressa-te, amor, que amanhã eu morro, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;que amanhã morro e não te digo... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cecília Meireles, in 'Retrato Natural'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ideia do Dia : Não te Fies do Tempo nem da Eternidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-6185886570558445381?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/10/nao-demores-tao-longe.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SspbaapplJI/AAAAAAAAAwI/8kQWs2YsM8M/s72-c/9433_1065210809889_1814583379_145813_1219886_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-2416239517544787728</guid><pubDate>Tue, 29 Sep 2009 09:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-29T10:21:07.433+01:00</atom:updated><title>feelings, that ache and burn</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SsHRUf2ag0I/AAAAAAAAAwA/oWHikzjnraU/s1600-h/6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386816779389141826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SsHRUf2ag0I/AAAAAAAAAwA/oWHikzjnraU/s400/6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ideia do Dia: I greatly need dawn for mental night.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-2416239517544787728?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/09/feelings-that-ache-and-burn.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SsHRUf2ag0I/AAAAAAAAAwA/oWHikzjnraU/s72-c/6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10369250.post-9125051066321423690</guid><pubDate>Mon, 28 Sep 2009 10:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-29T10:23:13.134+01:00</atom:updated><title>Quanto de solidão</title><description>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SsCJoTFuKdI/AAAAAAAAAv4/sD7mGcsAiM0/s1600-h/enricomihalik2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386456479747156434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 307px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SsCJoTFuKdI/AAAAAAAAAv4/sD7mGcsAiM0/s400/enricomihalik2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quanta traição existe em possuir-se a gente &lt;div&gt;sem conhecer que o corpo não conhece mais que o sentir-se noutro &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Quanto sentir-te e me sentires não foi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;senão o encontro eterno que nenhuma imagem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;jamais separará -&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;bbbbbbbbbbbbbbb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jorge de Sena&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;bbbbbbbbbb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pergunta do Dia : Quanto de vida consumimos pura no horror e na miséria de, possuindo, sermos a terra que outros pisam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10369250-9125051066321423690?l=another-w.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://another-w.blogspot.com/2009/09/quanto-de-solidao.html</link><author>woman_another@yahoo.com (Marion)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kxco2dw7CWM/SsCJoTFuKdI/AAAAAAAAAv4/sD7mGcsAiM0/s72-c/enricomihalik2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></item></channel></rss>