<?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-7751604407246013937</id><updated>2012-02-09T22:20:20.462Z</updated><category term='é segredo.'/><category term='tu'/><category term='amor'/><category term='para ti'/><title type='text'>coisinhas lindas</title><subtitle type='html'>ela ensinou-me a fazer coração, encontrei o meu amor. só faço corações quando acordo e vejo a janela húmida de tanto calor provocado pelo amor.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>695</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5549417827075772411</id><published>2012-02-09T22:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-09T22:20:20.471Z</updated><title type='text'>a carta de amor/desamor - desactualizada (?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Ganha consciencia que não queres voltar para Lisboa. Ganha consciencia que não queres arranjar trabalho. Preocupa-te com o que queres. Se quisesses arranjar trabalho já me tinhas enviado o teu curriculo para eu enviar à Joana Lisboa.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Eu nunca te quis enganar, e foi sempre o meu medo. Nunca quis fingir que é tudo um mar de rosas para cá ficares. Prefiro não entusiasmar-me que ficas e fazer tudo perfeito para cá ficares para depois arrependeres-te.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Prefiro que vás embora e que me entendas depois, que percebas que não quis dar tudo (e agora vejo que ainda bem, se nao sofria muito mais), nao quis acreditar... para que possas ir e seguir a tua vida sem te sentires presa a mim.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Já mais poderás imaginar o quanto eu desejei isto que me deste. Sentia constantemente que não te dava o que merecias, mas porque julguei que se te sentisses sozinha (como precisavas e querias quando viesses para portugal) terias espaço e tempo para aprender a gostar de ti. Agora vejo que para ti foi um erro, falta de amor deves chamar-lhe tu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Devias saber as vezes que vim do sou a andar rápido como tudo porque sabia que estavas cá em casa... primeiro arrancava do Sou com toda a velocidade, depois quando chegava as escadas acalmava um bocadinho e pensava que havia de vir o dia em que não ias estar assim em minha casa à minha espera.. e o passo ia abrandando... até ver a luz do teu quarto acesa/apagada e ter mais vontade para chegar a casa já com o pensamento que seria&amp;nbsp;temporário... depois chegava a casa e nunca sabia reagir...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;às vezes parece-me que achas que estou contigo só porque és de barcelona. ou como ontem disseste porque vives cá em casa... eu ja vivi com muita gente e nunca me apeteceu nada disto..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;é muito para além disso... é a força que não valorizas que tens que me faz sentir bem em ti. Tens uma segurança de tudo que é fabulosa, sempre os pés na terra... talvez de mais.. mas até isso como eu preciso. Encaixas em mim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;e entristece-me perceber que eu não encaixo em ti.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;parece-me muitas vezes que andas à procura de uma coisa perfeita, uma coisa que encaixe exactamente onde queres e não eu própria... não o que eu tenho mas o que queres... e se calhar o que precisas hoje, podes não precisar amanhã.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Eu gostava que entendesses que sozinha tens tudo o que precisas, não precisas de ninguém. O amor é dependencia, e troca. Mas para teres para trocar tens que ter em ti própria... e eu gostava que sentisses isso de ter sozinha.. ser feliz sozinha sem estar à espera de receber.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;o que me aconteceu hoje foi que eu já estava habituada a receber sempre que pedia. E hoje, foi a primeira vez que "precisei" e "tentei pedir" e percebi que não tinha, e é violento quando é no mm dia que se perde a namorada, sentir que a parte de amiga dessa namorada não está... ausentou-se... fosse pelo que fosse...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Tu para mim não és minha namorada... tu és minha colega de vida... tu não és alguém com quem eu faço sexo dou muitos abraços e beijinhos e pronto... não é isso... é para além disso... e é isso que eu acho que tu nunca percebeste...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;tu passaste a ser aquela a quem eu ligo sempre que preciso e que atende sempre, o que eu fazia com a lili. percebes? a lili é das minhas melhores amigas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;eu passei a falar contigo (por muito pouco que fosse)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;estar deitada na mm cama que tu chegava-me. ao inicio tinha medo de dar a mao, quase de te tocar com medo que ficasses numa posição que nao fosse confortável por causa de mim... e de repente... dormir contigo é tão bom, mas tão bom, que só por saber que estás ali chega-me. (bem sei que a ti não)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;a mim com a outra também não chegava, precisava sempre de ter a minha mao num sitio especifico, contigo é diferente, contigo eu tenho a certeza que estas ali, nao preciso de marcar presença no teu corpo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969);"&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;irrita-me todas as comparações com tudo que faço com a outra. irrita-me. de facto foi primeiro amor, primeira relação e talvez seja normal. quero agradecer-te por me teres deixado sempre falar dela. mas só até à bem pouco tempo é que percebi que realmente o que era bom na altura já não é agora e o que não era bom na altura é bom agora. Tu completas-me no que me faltava, fazes-me sentir completa por inteiro. isto para dizer que as comparações que eu fazia com a relaçao da outra e contigo era do tipo.. se eu quando estava com a ela a amava e as coisas eram assim, se estou com a cris e as coisas nao sao assim é porque nao te amo.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;e foi dificil para mim perceber que as coisas não sao assim. que realmente eu sinto amor por ti, e de uma forma mais desenvolvida, mais equilibrada, mais harmoniosa. mais estável. mais certa. a mim não me faz falta aquela loucura de amor de que falas muitas vezes, porque eu sei que na verdade eu tenho cá dentro essa loucura. Quando nas aulas dizem "diz um nome" o primeiro que digo é cristina. em pequenas coisas que tu não ves eu vejo que o que sinto, e é forte. não tenho que tar sempre a provar... a expressar isso... é tranquilo.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;fico feliz por te oferecer um instrumento que gostas, o meu livro preferidos, filmes... foram tudo coisas que usei para me conhecer e sentir-me mais eu. e gostava que te sentisses mais tu, que te amasses a ti própria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Muitas vezes quando me abraças, na verdade tu precisas é que eu te abrace. entendes? mas eu gostava que descobrisses que tu podes abraçar-te a ti própria. Nunca experimentas-te? é maravilhoso.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Se calhar devia partilhar estes meus pensamentos contigo para que depois nao pensasses que é desinteresse.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;na terça feira, no meu dia de folga não fiquei desiludida, mas fiquei triste. pensei "é o unico dia que tenho para estar com ela e ela não quer estar comigo".&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;o fim de semana foi muito puxado para mim... quando estava a dançar contigo apercebi-me que a conversa de ter vontade de te abraçar e beijar quando estao outras pessoas não é da teoria da outra nao me ter dado isso mas é porque me esqueço que em breve te vais embora e vivo o momento sem medo que um dia não seja assim... qaundo dançava contigo e te via a dançar apetecia-me chorar sempre. ao inicio adorei por seres linda a dançar... depois vem a historia do... "em breve nao a terei a dançar aqui comigo" e depois foi como "amo esta rapariga". quando me esqueço que tens que ir embora há uma vontade enorme em te abraçar e beijar que é incontrolável. quando penso que vais embora, dá-me vontade de fugir de ti,já.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Todo o papel que tiveste importante com a minha familia me emociona. prefiro até nem falar nisso. acho que disso consegues ter noção.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;É obvio que se nao estavas bem não podiamos continuar assim.. e ainda bem que o fizeste, na verdade acho que já nao estavas bem à muito tempo e que querias fazer isto à mais tempo... e não me é indiferente... é mais... não quis mudar os meus hábitos para te convencer... sabes? eu realmente sou assim, parva, arrogante, independente (muito menos do que pensas), frágil, medrosa. tenho muitos defeitos que tu não ves. mas não te quis enganar nunca. fingir que está tudo bem... dar mais do que sinto... é dificil ter noçao do que se sente... antes de entrar em casa enquanto ponho a chave sinto-me e páro e &amp;nbsp;sinto se me apetece dar-te um beijo na boca ou não.. para não cair no habito/rotina. e podes ter a certeza que de todas as vezes que dei foi porque me apeteceu, com mais ou menos vontade mas apeteceu.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Paraste para sentir isto? sentir se te apetece dar-me um beijo ou nao?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;É normal que se de beijos sem pensar, só porque já faz parte.. mas isso para mim não funciona... o que para ti era falta de carinho isto e aquilo para mim é outra coisa...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;mas lá está, devias ter-me conhecido como amiga, para conseguires perceber as pequenas diferenças...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Estou agora na cama com o pc. e se me conhecesses como amiga saberias que eu nao conseguia ir para a cama sem o pc. estar mesmo dentro dos lençóis com o pc. &amp;nbsp;e contigo nunca precisei... uma amiga minha perguntou-me se eu fazia isso contigo também e eu disse que não e devias ver a reação dela de espanto... contigo não preciso de muita coisa...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;tu completas-me mais.. e eu deixo mais coisas para trás.. para estar contigo, por ti, tal como fazes comigo. mas tu só sentes que eu chego a casa e não te acaricio nem te dou miminhos. mas quero que saibas que durante o dia sao varias as vezes que vou ao teu face so para ver a tua cara e recordar este ou aquele momento, para me aliviar o trabalho...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;sabe bem ter-te ao meu lado e cada vez mais perceber que és a pessoa perfeita para isso. sem pensar na falta de sentimento que com tanto choro e tristeza de te perder parece que está cá, só não estava a ser ouvido por mim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;De facto cansei-me. eu tive muitas discussões com a outra, destas que andamos a ter, e talvez sejam as minhas energias que estejam a provocar isto. mas eu não quero isto. nao aguento. estou cansada de estar ora bem ora mal. por mim foi o fim. queria dizer-te que nao queria sentir mais a tua cara junto à minha e que não te deitasses comigo na cama, porque custa quando isso acontece e sabemos que nao podemos continuar. mas por outro lado sabe tao bem...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;tive agora a certeza que quero que vás. podes ir sem voltar. não me vou sentir mais só do que sinto agora. obrigada por teres tido coragem de ir. talvez seja importante. já te estava a ver como uma santa que estava sempre disponivel e que me resolvia todos os problemas... assim é melhor.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;senti muito odio por ti porque jamais faria o que fizeste. mas esse é tambem um dos meus defeitos, não consigo colocar-me na cabeça dos outros, nunca.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;não me foi indiferente, foi mais uma tentativa de aceitar o que pedias. se nao estavas bem só tinhas que mudar. sempre te disse que não te queria prender, e que te queria bem.. mas pronto...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Só espero que fiques melhor sem mim. eu vou voltar à minha vida de solteira feliz e em sintonia com o mundo, que sabe tão bem. talvez fossemos mais felizes se eu tivesse tido coragem para continuar nesse modo de vida.. mas tu foste mais que isso...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Sinto-me tão mais uma que nem imaginas... mais uma como a italiana e todas as outras que nunca vais esquecer... isso a mim mete-me num sentimento que nem sei explicar. Sente-se que tens uma carruagem de qualquer coisa ausente. é estranho... como se te entregasses muito bem mas tens sempre uma segurança por trás para o caso de as coisas darem mal. por isso é que insistia na conversa se tinhas alguma em espanha em que nao tinhas acabado bem as coisas... nao sei explicar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;tive durante este tempo todo sempre a sensação que eu sairia sempre mais a perder... e talvez por isso sou a que menos dou.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;A conversa que ouvi (preferi ouvir pouco) fez-me ganhar noção de muita coisa.. a forma indiferente que contavas o que aconteceu hoje quase em ar de ironia...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Já acalmei um bocadinho.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;espero que sejas feliz e que aprendas a se-lo sozinha, sem depender de&amp;nbsp;ninguém. sabe melhor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;amo-te&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;4-07-2011-Lisboa&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/7751604407246013937-5549417827075772411?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5549417827075772411/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/carta-de-amordesamor-desactualizada.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5549417827075772411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5549417827075772411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/carta-de-amordesamor-desactualizada.html' title='a carta de amor/desamor - desactualizada (?)'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4398692191741169537</id><published>2012-02-09T20:52:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-09T20:52:19.447Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>o que eu mais gosto no amor,&lt;br /&gt;são as desilusões de amor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4398692191741169537?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4398692191741169537/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/o-que-eu-mais-gosto-no-amor-sao-as.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4398692191741169537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4398692191741169537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/o-que-eu-mais-gosto-no-amor-sao-as.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8758057597202672590</id><published>2012-02-09T20:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-09T20:50:57.489Z</updated><title type='text'>faz-me falta aquela janela pequenina</title><content type='html'>faz-me falta aquela janela pequenina perto da cama.&lt;br /&gt;Agora tenho uma grande ao fundo da cama, com uma boa vista.&lt;br /&gt;mas aquela pequenina, que dava para o céu, faz-me falta.&lt;br /&gt;tenho saudades de chorar e ver os passarinhos a voar.&lt;br /&gt;tenho saudades de ter medo dos ninjas e de ser amiga deles.&lt;br /&gt;tenho saudades do conforto daquela cama, a segurança, a presença.&lt;br /&gt;tenho saudades de sentir uma pessoa, qualquer, ali naquela cama.&lt;br /&gt;tenho saudades de sentir que naquela cama se podia tudo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8758057597202672590?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8758057597202672590/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/faz-me-falta-aquela-janela-pequenina.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8758057597202672590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8758057597202672590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/faz-me-falta-aquela-janela-pequenina.html' title='faz-me falta aquela janela pequenina'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3347881962418375427</id><published>2012-02-09T12:26:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-09T12:26:02.010Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm direction_ltr" data-jsid="message" id="msg_808353043_1328790008907:1156406461" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; direction: ltr; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 12px; margin-bottom: 3px; max-width: 193px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"&gt;tao deixa -a a ir&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="fbChatMessage fsm direction_ltr" data-jsid="message" id="msg_808353043_1328790030755:4291159565" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; direction: ltr; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 12px; margin-bottom: 3px; max-width: 193px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"&gt;o amor é uma treta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3347881962418375427?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3347881962418375427/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/tao-deixa-a-ir-o-amor-e-uma-treta.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3347881962418375427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3347881962418375427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/tao-deixa-a-ir-o-amor-e-uma-treta.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3017764436600381299</id><published>2012-02-08T18:33:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T18:33:10.898Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://letras.terra.com.br/talma-gadelha/1857061/"&gt;http://letras.terra.com.br/talma-gadelha/1857061/&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;assim assim assim. és-me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;assim. toma amor. abraça&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3017764436600381299?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3017764436600381299/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/httpletras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3017764436600381299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3017764436600381299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/httpletras.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1509588478075121487</id><published>2012-02-08T17:17:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T17:17:10.367Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>há dias que me canta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RpEMVps5gU"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RpEMVps5gU&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1509588478075121487?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1509588478075121487/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/ha-dias-que-me-canta-httpwww.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1509588478075121487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1509588478075121487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/ha-dias-que-me-canta-httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8027874924614069922</id><published>2012-02-08T17:15:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T17:15:01.759Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>as vezes gosto de lhe dizer as 8 da manha&lt;br /&gt;só volto as 23:00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e ver que ela fica com uma cara estranha e pergunta "da noite?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sim sim&lt;br /&gt;beijinhos amor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8027874924614069922?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8027874924614069922/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-gosto-de-lhe-dizer-as-8-da.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8027874924614069922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8027874924614069922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-gosto-de-lhe-dizer-as-8-da.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5383133810200820459</id><published>2012-02-08T17:08:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T17:08:24.907Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>as vezes tenho orgulho em escrever merdas que sao mentiras,&lt;br /&gt;ou simplesmente porque sao merdas.&lt;br /&gt;coragem e nao vergonha. eu tenho&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5383133810200820459?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5383133810200820459/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-tenho-orgulho-em-escrever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5383133810200820459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5383133810200820459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-tenho-orgulho-em-escrever.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1697553761828606968</id><published>2012-02-08T17:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T17:07:54.468Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>já recebi mais amor nestes ultimos anos que julguei receber a vida toda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;confesso que me apetece sofrer e ter saudades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que bom de mais cansa e mata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que quero fugir e amar o mundo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e contigo fugir fugir e encontrar o mundo desconhecido...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amor, que amor, contigo ou sem ti, o teu amor está dentro de mim. que o meu amor nunca foi teu, foi sempre meu e está aqui &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1697553761828606968?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1697553761828606968/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/ja-recebi-mais-amor-nestes-ultimos-anos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1697553761828606968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1697553761828606968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/ja-recebi-mais-amor-nestes-ultimos-anos.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-920409439562968403</id><published>2012-02-08T16:58:00.003Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T16:58:32.559Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>eu sempre soube que o meu amor estava em barcelona,&lt;br /&gt;sempre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-920409439562968403?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/920409439562968403/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/eu-sempre-soube-que-o-meu-amor-estava.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/920409439562968403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/920409439562968403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/eu-sempre-soube-que-o-meu-amor-estava.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8152948130609637214</id><published>2012-02-08T16:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T16:58:02.958Z</updated><title type='text'>há o primeiro amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDlJGwczpeI/TzKpj9kxvhI/AAAAAAAAP6k/-Phv5vAWu6E/s1600/IMG_2429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDlJGwczpeI/TzKpj9kxvhI/AAAAAAAAP6k/-Phv5vAWu6E/s320/IMG_2429.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;e há o amor verdadeiro&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8152948130609637214?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8152948130609637214/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/ha-o-primeiro-amor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8152948130609637214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8152948130609637214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/ha-o-primeiro-amor.html' title='há o primeiro amor'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDlJGwczpeI/TzKpj9kxvhI/AAAAAAAAP6k/-Phv5vAWu6E/s72-c/IMG_2429.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3887763358931137856</id><published>2012-02-08T16:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T16:56:02.804Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ás vezes ainda te espero como te esperava na escadaria do mosteiro. sento-me e fico ali à tua espera.&lt;br /&gt;A cristina ao meu lado não sabe de nada. nem precisa.&lt;br /&gt;a cristina entende-me bem. é por isso que gosto dela.&lt;br /&gt;ela entende-me e eu a ela. bem de mais.&lt;br /&gt;e é por isso que não falamos muito de amor.&lt;br /&gt;não é preciso.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3887763358931137856?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3887763358931137856/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-ainda-te-espero-como-te.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3887763358931137856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3887763358931137856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-ainda-te-espero-como-te.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4157376474868740228</id><published>2012-02-08T16:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T16:55:00.178Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As vezes tenho saudades tuas.&lt;br /&gt;As vezes descubro coisas em casa, guardadas que me ofereceste.&lt;br /&gt;AS vezes quero que venhas e me abraces&lt;br /&gt;para eu matar saudades&lt;br /&gt;parece que so mato saudades tuas quando te abraço&lt;br /&gt;seria feliz se me abraçasses.&lt;br /&gt;as vezes acredito que me vens abraçar&lt;br /&gt;que nao fazes mais nada, so me abraças&lt;br /&gt;as vezes acredito no que todos os outros dizes mas as vezes&lt;br /&gt;é dificil. e é facil. é assim&lt;br /&gt;coisinhas que tais&lt;br /&gt;mas tenho saudades tuas.&lt;br /&gt;o certo e o composto e o bem&lt;br /&gt;é que um dia eu vou ter contigo também.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4157376474868740228?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4157376474868740228/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-tenho-saudades-tuas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4157376474868740228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4157376474868740228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/as-vezes-tenho-saudades-tuas.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7087720111414138058</id><published>2012-02-06T22:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-06T22:59:06.603Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hoje foi o dia que a minha avó deu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20€ a mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20€ a minha namorada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7087720111414138058?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7087720111414138058/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/hoje-foi-o-dia-que-minha-avo-deu-20-mim.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7087720111414138058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7087720111414138058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/02/hoje-foi-o-dia-que-minha-avo-deu-20-mim.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8327023845697855790</id><published>2012-01-27T12:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-01-27T12:50:04.811Z</updated><title type='text'>amor bom de mais enjoa. os pés das pessoas enjoadas de tanto amor. felizes portanto</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K73T3wyy5tA/TyKXiAcHJAI/AAAAAAAAP6c/w7HTxHf4PoI/s1600/IMG_9001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K73T3wyy5tA/TyKXiAcHJAI/AAAAAAAAP6c/w7HTxHf4PoI/s320/IMG_9001.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;é isso. a vida certa. um amor. um amor que gosta de viajar comigo todas as semanas pelo meu país. amor certo. amor. familia. trabalho. amigos. aulas. pessoas. tudo certo...&lt;br /&gt;que enjoativo o certo de tão certo que é.&lt;br /&gt;por tudo isto, quero mudar de casa. tem a casa que ter defeito. quero viver com ela. so eu e ela. felizes.. e depois vou querer um animal. um animal para nós e depois vou querer viajar pelo mundo e então bate tudo certo, sempre. comigo é assim... começo a habituar-me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eu prefiro que as coisas me corram mal. mas não... corre tudo bem...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8327023845697855790?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8327023845697855790/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/amor-bom-de-mais-enjoa-os-pes-das.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8327023845697855790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8327023845697855790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/amor-bom-de-mais-enjoa-os-pes-das.html' title='amor bom de mais enjoa. os pés das pessoas enjoadas de tanto amor. felizes portanto'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K73T3wyy5tA/TyKXiAcHJAI/AAAAAAAAP6c/w7HTxHf4PoI/s72-c/IMG_9001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4750141168398996928</id><published>2012-01-22T02:03:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-22T02:03:42.357Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>quero escrever mil merdas, mas por estar irritada só me sai a palavra irritada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4750141168398996928?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4750141168398996928/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/quero-escrever-mil-merdas-mas-por-estar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4750141168398996928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4750141168398996928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/quero-escrever-mil-merdas-mas-por-estar.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-115742307340538362</id><published>2012-01-22T02:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-01-22T02:01:11.824Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>estou rabugenta e não sei lidar com isto. há muito tempo que &amp;nbsp;não sentia isto. rabugem. e isso sabe bem&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-115742307340538362?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/115742307340538362/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/estou-rabugenta-e-nao-sei-lidar-com.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/115742307340538362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/115742307340538362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/estou-rabugenta-e-nao-sei-lidar-com.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5232690591427227862</id><published>2012-01-22T01:59:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-01-22T01:59:40.664Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>há coisas que me tiram do sério que sei que só a maria me entenderia, a ana e a xucra com mais alguns pormenores entenderia também...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;é isso. fazem-me falta elas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não só elas, mas elas principalmente que ultimamente ouviam-me intensivamente e que de repente puf&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5232690591427227862?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5232690591427227862/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/ha-coisas-que-me-tiram-do-serio-que-sei.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5232690591427227862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5232690591427227862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/ha-coisas-que-me-tiram-do-serio-que-sei.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-9072656453556498076</id><published>2012-01-21T11:49:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-01-21T11:49:50.972Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>houve uma vez que eu lhe mostrei uma musica. exagerado. e ela me disse que nao gostou da musica a primeira vez porque falava num amor inventado.&lt;br /&gt;o mesmo que eu pensei e provavelmente senti e primeira vez que a oiço. por isso é que eu gosto tanto dela.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-9072656453556498076?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/9072656453556498076/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/houve-uma-vez-que-eu-lhe-mostrei-uma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/9072656453556498076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/9072656453556498076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/houve-uma-vez-que-eu-lhe-mostrei-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8975425312613138599</id><published>2012-01-20T12:49:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T12:49:22.782Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NYulfCW6fCM/TxliryksutI/AAAAAAAAP5w/RhQZ478bDBY/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NYulfCW6fCM/TxliryksutI/AAAAAAAAP5w/RhQZ478bDBY/s320/9.jpg" width="208" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;Patricia Piccinini&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;Quero mascarar-me assim... nem que tenha que rapar o cabelinho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8975425312613138599?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8975425312613138599/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/patricia-piccinini-quero-mascarar-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8975425312613138599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8975425312613138599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/patricia-piccinini-quero-mascarar-me.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NYulfCW6fCM/TxliryksutI/AAAAAAAAP5w/RhQZ478bDBY/s72-c/9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3209335762591059212</id><published>2012-01-20T12:48:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T12:48:24.287Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>com voce tudo fica blue&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3209335762591059212?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3209335762591059212/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/com-voce-tudo-fica-blue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3209335762591059212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3209335762591059212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/com-voce-tudo-fica-blue.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7117925090541381240</id><published>2012-01-17T20:25:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-17T20:25:38.431Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>preciso de uma nova grande desilusão de amor, para ter mais um ano delicioso. por favor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7117925090541381240?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7117925090541381240/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/preciso-de-uma-nova-grande-desilusao-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7117925090541381240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7117925090541381240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/preciso-de-uma-nova-grande-desilusao-de.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5527389041803360014</id><published>2012-01-17T11:05:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-17T11:05:02.821Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6nwcQRrtc3g/TxVV0UHphII/AAAAAAAAP5o/RdkkLtGZejk/s1600/384834_251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6nwcQRrtc3g/TxVV0UHphII/AAAAAAAAP5o/RdkkLtGZejk/s320/384834_251.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;brasil. tu. tu tu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5527389041803360014?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5527389041803360014/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/brasil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5527389041803360014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5527389041803360014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/brasil.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6nwcQRrtc3g/TxVV0UHphII/AAAAAAAAP5o/RdkkLtGZejk/s72-c/384834_251.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-72566014112817861</id><published>2012-01-16T09:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-01-16T09:03:43.077Z</updated><title type='text'>eu gostava</title><content type='html'>eu gostava que a droga desaparecesse e que as pessoas aprendessem a ser felizes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;é o meu pensamento de sempre, depois de passar um fim de semana em alcobaça.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um dia deixo de ir a alcobaça e deixo de me lembrar que existem pessoas que só sorriem porque existe droga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e assim o mundo deixa de ter menos um problema. (para mim, claro)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uma boa semaninha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-72566014112817861?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/72566014112817861/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/eu-gostava.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/72566014112817861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/72566014112817861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/eu-gostava.html' title='eu gostava'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3818530211395748402</id><published>2012-01-12T23:36:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-01-12T23:36:37.073Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>não sei o que se diz ao irmão quando este conta a irmã que se vai casar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sinto em mim uma felicidade que não consigo dar forma, de forma nenhuma&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3818530211395748402?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3818530211395748402/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/nao-sei-o-que-se-diz-ao-irmao-quando.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3818530211395748402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3818530211395748402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/nao-sei-o-que-se-diz-ao-irmao-quando.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-2751778697296835786</id><published>2012-01-05T13:22:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:22:15.959Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>cada vez sou mais feliz por ser mais pequenina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-2751778697296835786?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2751778697296835786/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/cada-vez-sou-mais-feliz-por-ser-mais.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2751778697296835786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2751778697296835786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/cada-vez-sou-mais-feliz-por-ser-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1207864378017671720</id><published>2012-01-05T13:21:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:21:47.154Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>É preciso ter colhones aqui dizia ele&lt;br /&gt;disse isso várias vezes como que para explicar que nao é preciso mais nada&lt;br /&gt;até que olhou para mim e disse&lt;br /&gt;colhones e coraçon, claro&lt;br /&gt;eu sorri e senti-me feliz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1207864378017671720?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1207864378017671720/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/e-preciso-ter-colhones-aqui-dizia-ele.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1207864378017671720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1207864378017671720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/e-preciso-ter-colhones-aqui-dizia-ele.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5559104680987282812</id><published>2012-01-05T13:20:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:20:56.051Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As coisas boas fazem-me chorar mais do que as más.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5559104680987282812?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5559104680987282812/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/as-coisas-boas-fazem-me-chorar-mais-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5559104680987282812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5559104680987282812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/as-coisas-boas-fazem-me-chorar-mais-do.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1369384527981403938</id><published>2012-01-05T13:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:19:01.383Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;"&amp;nbsp;Ando muito feliz. O meu querido irmão voou e deixou um grande vazio no meu coração. Vou vivendo com essa ideia e tornando-a mais familiar, a situação de não o visitar, encontrar, massajar nunca mais. Enfim, c'est la vie..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Nem tenho palavras. há pessoas lindas neste mundo que valem por 10 más.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1369384527981403938?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1369384527981403938/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/muito-feliz.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1369384527981403938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1369384527981403938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/muito-feliz.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-2828356387687799634</id><published>2012-01-05T13:18:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:18:12.017Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Frida&lt;br /&gt;Frida?&lt;br /&gt;Olha para o teu pipi&lt;br /&gt;és Frida Kahlo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-2828356387687799634?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2828356387687799634/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/frida-frida-olha-para-o-teu-pipi-es.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2828356387687799634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2828356387687799634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/frida-frida-olha-para-o-teu-pipi-es.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1119915523938585566</id><published>2012-01-03T00:37:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-03T00:37:33.490Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CuctgzesLd0/TwJNqeRGuyI/AAAAAAAAP5g/DQxP4-ysWcc/s1600/384430_319347831421695_100000394421206_1037138_546239781_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CuctgzesLd0/TwJNqeRGuyI/AAAAAAAAP5g/DQxP4-ysWcc/s320/384430_319347831421695_100000394421206_1037138_546239781_n.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;1 MMS do ano&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1119915523938585566?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1119915523938585566/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/1-mms-do-ano.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1119915523938585566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1119915523938585566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2012/01/1-mms-do-ano.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CuctgzesLd0/TwJNqeRGuyI/AAAAAAAAP5g/DQxP4-ysWcc/s72-c/384430_319347831421695_100000394421206_1037138_546239781_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8898768073451151482</id><published>2011-12-31T21:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T21:44:09.638Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-5uBbImbcc/Tv-B_XUuy7I/AAAAAAAAP5U/iQSDLcTaFsM/s1600/19956_1277167062895_1641560775_659964_237125_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="276" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-5uBbImbcc/Tv-B_XUuy7I/AAAAAAAAP5U/iQSDLcTaFsM/s320/19956_1277167062895_1641560775_659964_237125_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Uma vez na vida sabe bem... mas basta...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8898768073451151482?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8898768073451151482/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/uma-vez-na-vida-sabe-bem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8898768073451151482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8898768073451151482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/uma-vez-na-vida-sabe-bem.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-5uBbImbcc/Tv-B_XUuy7I/AAAAAAAAP5U/iQSDLcTaFsM/s72-c/19956_1277167062895_1641560775_659964_237125_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3991462104690568392</id><published>2011-12-31T21:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T21:40:26.771Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>quero dizer que acabei de ler, agora mesmo, o livro sexo dependentes - 21 histórias de mulheres radicais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;desde janis joplins a edith piaf, anais nin virgina woolf alma mahler... enfim...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;todas elas sofreram e lamentaram pela realização do encontro de um amor verdadeiro bla bla bla...&lt;br /&gt;e eu sou uma sortuda porque realmente, por mais que me tenham dito que a minha alma gemea já morreu... eu tive um amor, o primeiro, tão iludido que agora vivo tranquila, sem uma procura, sem uma necessidade... uma inquietação... agora vivo com amor sim, mas a certeza que a felicidade e a paz são tranquilas, porque já amei tanto quanto desejei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;claro que se amar mais, melhor. mas já não morro insatisfeita por falta de amor, isso não. amei e fui muito amada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eu sei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a verdade é que a vida é uma coisa e o amor outra :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;depois de ler tanta biografia, 20. fico feliz com a minha que apenas tenho 23 anos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feliz, tenho a certeza que este ano 2011 foi o melhor da minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por certo quando tiver um filho, uma casa, uma graaaandeeee viageeem um graaaaandeeeee amoooor talvez julgue que isso compensa por um ano todo.&lt;br /&gt;Mas ter um ano 100% como sonhei novamente... era ser REALMENTE &amp;nbsp;a gaja mais sortuda do universo inteirinho!! (e é a primeira vez, que estou a acreditar que sou mm gaja para que isso me aconteça).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enfim... passei o dia na cama, a ler, a falar ao telefone.. de repouso, e sabe tao bem. sem sentir que se está a perder alguma coisa. vou passar o ano com os meus pais já que o meu amor está longe. e vai saber-me bem. tudo como eu quero... sempre... sem eu entender bem porquê.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obrigada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3991462104690568392?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3991462104690568392/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quero-dizer-que-acabei-de-ler-agora.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3991462104690568392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3991462104690568392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quero-dizer-que-acabei-de-ler-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4440906982874094332</id><published>2011-12-31T21:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T21:33:44.899Z</updated><title type='text'>sabe tao bem o depois</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="480" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vJWkWyJPFew?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4440906982874094332?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4440906982874094332/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/sabe-tao-bem-o-depois.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4440906982874094332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4440906982874094332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/sabe-tao-bem-o-depois.html' title='sabe tao bem o depois'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/vJWkWyJPFew/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3167658240893977460</id><published>2011-12-31T21:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T21:32:03.962Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lVTn-vNgejs/Tv9_OcqvvmI/AAAAAAAAP48/O1eQWrrq3vw/s1600/dianinha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lVTn-vNgejs/Tv9_OcqvvmI/AAAAAAAAP48/O1eQWrrq3vw/s320/dianinha.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;um dia vingo-me... ehehe&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3167658240893977460?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3167658240893977460/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/um-dia-vingo-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3167658240893977460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3167658240893977460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/um-dia-vingo-me.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lVTn-vNgejs/Tv9_OcqvvmI/AAAAAAAAP48/O1eQWrrq3vw/s72-c/dianinha.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8803595904021368260</id><published>2011-12-31T21:11:00.003Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T21:11:47.929Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;amor é falar no plural quando se fala em planos para o próximo ano ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8803595904021368260?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8803595904021368260/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-falar-no-plural-quando-se-fala_31.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8803595904021368260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8803595904021368260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-falar-no-plural-quando-se-fala_31.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3066911441303537660</id><published>2011-12-31T21:11:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T21:11:47.536Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"&gt;amor é falar no plural quando se fala em planos para o próximo ano ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3066911441303537660?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3066911441303537660/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-falar-no-plural-quando-se-fala.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3066911441303537660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3066911441303537660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-falar-no-plural-quando-se-fala.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3295104249135786173</id><published>2011-12-31T15:36:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T15:36:40.257Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ha quem pense que somos irmãs e quem duvide que não somos mae e filhas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o que ninguem sabe é que o amor que existe em nós é tão forte como esses amores familiares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um amor de 5 anos, dizemos nós:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3295104249135786173?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3295104249135786173/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ha-quem-pense-que-somos-irmas-e-quem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3295104249135786173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3295104249135786173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ha-quem-pense-que-somos-irmas-e-quem.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1252203195123778836</id><published>2011-12-31T14:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T14:42:35.131Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>depois de querer mudar de vida e de cidade. mudei&lt;br /&gt;mudei, e fui para onde quis. para a casa perfeito, no sitio onde quis. perfeito.&lt;br /&gt;fiz estágio onde quis, com quem quis. deram-me trabalho onde quis. estudo onde quis.&lt;br /&gt;faço o que quero, estudo só o que quero. como quero.&lt;br /&gt;conheci pessoas lindas e fiz amizades lindas. como quis. poucas, que gosto de me sentir estrangeira naquela cidade.&lt;br /&gt;tudo como sempre quis. por fim, depois de ter a vida certa com o trabalho,a brida e a familia...&lt;br /&gt;desejei ter um amor, como sempre quis. e tive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4UUF1Q0IoOI/Tv8fCgkawHI/AAAAAAAAP4w/8zszK_oaFMQ/s1600/IMG_9173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4UUF1Q0IoOI/Tv8fCgkawHI/AAAAAAAAP4w/8zszK_oaFMQ/s320/IMG_9173.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;desejei viver com a pessoa amada. e vivo. desejei tudo o que quis. e tudo o que desejei o mundo me deu.&lt;br /&gt;como se pode acreditar num ano melhor?&lt;br /&gt;eu não acredito, e sou muito positiva!&lt;br /&gt;melhor assim...cada um tem o que merece &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;obrigada ao mundo.&lt;br /&gt;e a ti&lt;br /&gt;____-__&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1252203195123778836?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1252203195123778836/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/depois-de-querer-mudar-de-vida-e-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1252203195123778836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1252203195123778836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/depois-de-querer-mudar-de-vida-e-de.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4UUF1Q0IoOI/Tv8fCgkawHI/AAAAAAAAP4w/8zszK_oaFMQ/s72-c/IMG_9173.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8502560408080269544</id><published>2011-12-31T13:24:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T13:24:15.236Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;A menina feliz, infeliz no natal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;No último dia de 2010, a menina teve o maior desgosto de amor, do universo. Depois de todo o mal ter entrado na sua vida, o ano seguinte foi diferente. Tudo o que ela queria, acontecia.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Se ela queria dinheiro, aparecia.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Se queria arranjar trabalho, conseguia.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Se queria bilhetes para o teatro, ganhava-os.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Desejou um amor, e esse amor apareceu... Tinha tudo o que queria...  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;O ano 2011 corria na perfeição...   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Até que chegou o natal, e no natal, é tradição a menina ficar infeliz...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mas é melhor terminarmos o conto porque se a menina é feliz o ano inteiro, não faz sentido o conto terminar infeliz.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Ela quer dizer à sua mãe que o Natal não foi pobre, mas triste. E isso uma mãe não controla, só as meninas que têm coração é que são culpadas por sentir coisas assim.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;O primeiro natal feliz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Era uma vez uma menina que era tão feliz durante todo o ano que quando chegava o mês de Dezembro já não tinha felicidade. Na altura em que todos os meninos estavam sempre felizes com as prendas que iam receber e com a família toda unida em festa, a menina feliz sentia-se sozinha e deprimida. Na noite de Natal, só queria ficar na cama a dormir.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Houve um dia que desejou muito que o Natal fosse unido e feliz com a família.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;No Natal seguinte a menina pode ir a casa. Mas conseguiu no outro ano visitar a família no Natal. Foi o Natal mais feliz do mundo. O importante é que no Natal os sentimentos sejam verdadeiros. E ficou recordado como o Primeiro Natal que não se sentiu obrigada a ser feliz mas foi realmente Feliz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ás vezes é preciso perder para se valorizar.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;O jardim das possibilidades&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Eu gostava de te levar a passear a um jardim. É o jardim das possibilidades. Lá tudo é possível. Nesse jardim, não tens que fazer opções, só tens que viver. Nesse jardim o medo não existe. O medo faz parte de outro jardim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;O problema é que só pode lá ir, quem acredita neste jardim das possibilidades. Fecha os olhos por favor, fecha. Não faças tanta força, não é preciso.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Agora imagina o teu corpo rodeado de verde, consegues? Agora imagina-me ao teu lado, consegues? Consegues imaginar a Brida e a Lula ao nosso colo? Consegues?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Imagino-te a sorrir... Essa é uma das possibilidades, agora faz o mesmo para todas as outras.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mas cuidado para não ires para o jardim do medo, já te disse que esse é outro.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;E tem cuidado também para não demorares muito tempo a escolher, porque... a vida... é tempo... &lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;O jardim do medo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;O jardim do medo é o teu jardim preferido. Não tens medo de entrar, mas não consegues sair sozinha. O jardim do medo faz-te tornar pequenina e deixa-te esconder no escuro debaixo das mãos grandes. O medo esconde-te do que és. O jardim do medo faz-te não ter medo. O jardim do medo faz os outros ficarem preocupados.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Quando vais ao jardim do medo, tu não sabes que obrigas, quem gosta de ti, a ir atrás de ti. Quem gosta de ti tem que entrar nesse jardim, tem que entrar no Teu jardim, e tem ainda que te encontrar.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Quase que prefiro ter que entrar nesse jardim todos os dias para te encontrar do que saber que nunca mais vais conseguir pedir-me ajuda porque vais para longe de mim...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Eu já estou forte (faz de conta). &lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ela moldava-me e eu deixava&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Um dia estava na cama, dela. E ela foi buscar a plasticina e fez-me. Agarrou num pau de chupa e fez disso a minha coluna.  Depois fez um grande coração, que não cabia dentro de mim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Fez também uma mala, não me lembro bem, mas acho que era a mala das saudades. Porque saudades? Talvez fosse a mala dos abraços. Já que saudades não faziam sentido. Não me lembro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mas é verdade... já fui assim e não me lembrava. Ainda bem que ela me fez um dia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mais tarde um menino, brincava com aquela boneca que era eu, e partiu a cabeça. Os animais também gostavam da boneca. Imagino que a boneca foi para o lixo, mas não importa, porque a fotografia tenho eu. E o que sou... já se modificou. &lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A menina que não perdoa a mãe.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;A menina conseguiu ter o cão.  A menina foi passar férias... A mãe da menina queria dar banho ao cão. O cão não gostava de banho, tem esse direito ou não? É cão...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mãe – Quero calmantes para conseguir dar banho ao meu cão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Veterinária – Metade chega porque ele, já está a ficar velho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;A mãe deu um comprimido. Falta dizer que esta mãe acha que sabe sempre tudo.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;A menina mal disposta, depois de dar um passeio com a amiga, porque sentia coisas estranhas, voltou à tenda. Nesse momento recebeu uma chamada da mãe. Atendeu e disse:  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;menina - o Putchy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mãe – Aconteceu uma coisa...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;menina – morreu não foi?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mãe - …  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A menina tenta mas não consegue perdoar a mãe que lhe matou o seu melhor amigo.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Voa quem quer, não quem diz que quer&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;O meu dragão é uma mulher, mas eu continuo a chamar-lhe dragão. Gosto mais. Queria levá-la a passear no meu dragão. Ela gostava de voar, mas não sabe voar sozinha, então eu disse-lhe: Anda voas no meu dragão para te habituares, depois arranjas um dragão teu, e depois voas ao lado dele. Foi assim que eu fiz.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Foi assim que eu aprendi a voar.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Todos os dias antes de dormir eu voo até onde quero. Ela nunca me deu ouvidos, e acho que desistiu de voar.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Um dia eu desisto de ensinar pessoas que dizem que querem voar, e só ensino quem quer voar. É diferente dizer e de querer. Dizer é uma coisa, imaginar e sentir é outra. Sabe melhor sentir. Eu nunca disse que queria voar...  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hoje eu já consigo voar sozinha, e é por isso que vou tantas vezes ao Brasil.  &lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Minto se disse que nunca lhe disse que não&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Ele fazia-me rir. Ele completava aquela casa. Eu brincava com ele. Ele fazia-me cocegas e eu vingava-me. Ele gritava “estás a falar fininho”... Chegámos a saltar os dois naquela cama em pé... Muitas vezes saltava-me para as costas... e eu perdia a força e … caíamos. Às vezes fazíamos feridas os dois, mas só nos ria-mos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Na praia confessou que “o que mais quero é voltar a estar na cama contigo e com a tia”.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;E eu que pensava que ele era pequenino...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Habituei-me a ter uma criança na vida. Aprendi a chamar-lhe de amigo. Era estranho para mim ter um amigo tão mais novo. Ele foi crescendo e fomos mudando.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Hoje já me fala da sua namorada, e eu falo-lhe da minha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Muitas vezes pede-me para ir ao castelo, é lá que gosta de falar comigo... Nunca lhe disse que não&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8502560408080269544?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8502560408080269544/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/menina-feliz-infeliz-no-natal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8502560408080269544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8502560408080269544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/menina-feliz-infeliz-no-natal.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6899700835971487343</id><published>2011-12-31T05:19:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T05:19:34.827Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wPA5V3rcAF4/Tv6bXa8UIVI/AAAAAAAAP4k/smdlCAvOq54/s1600/rebeccadautr.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wPA5V3rcAF4/Tv6bXa8UIVI/AAAAAAAAP4k/smdlCAvOq54/s320/rebeccadautr.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6899700835971487343?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6899700835971487343/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post_31.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6899700835971487343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6899700835971487343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post_31.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wPA5V3rcAF4/Tv6bXa8UIVI/AAAAAAAAP4k/smdlCAvOq54/s72-c/rebeccadautr.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6457926015005799750</id><published>2011-12-31T05:04:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-31T05:04:04.119Z</updated><title type='text'>digo as maiores mentiras</title><content type='html'>e as verdades mais secretas da minha vida aqui.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6457926015005799750?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6457926015005799750/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/digo-as-maiores-mentiras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6457926015005799750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6457926015005799750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/digo-as-maiores-mentiras.html' title='digo as maiores mentiras'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-2444643522480304661</id><published>2011-12-30T21:40:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-30T21:40:41.432Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"acho que tu... nao sei bem como dizer isto.. sabes quando vês uma pessoa e sentes que falta ali alguma coisa? é que por exemplo tu.. aquela parvoíce de acreditares no amor.. muito fofinhos.. muito queridinhos... mas parecendo que não isso és tu própria.. e acreditando realmente no amor e que tu enquanto individuo consegues mudar o teu mundo e o mundo de várias pessoas.. só vejo isso em duas pessoas que estão fora da religião que és tu e a .... essa questão de tu te encontrares contigo própria... entendes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3 mimam-me é o que é.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Difícil é não ser-se o que se é&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-2444643522480304661?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2444643522480304661/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/acho-que-tu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2444643522480304661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2444643522480304661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/acho-que-tu.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7472642908229791054</id><published>2011-12-30T13:22:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-30T13:22:02.545Z</updated><title type='text'>ouvi dizer que voce ta bem... que ja tem um outro alguem</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX0IdN46Hz4&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX0IdN46Hz4&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7472642908229791054?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7472642908229791054/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ouvi-dizer-que-voce-ta-bem-que-ja-tem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7472642908229791054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7472642908229791054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ouvi-dizer-que-voce-ta-bem-que-ja-tem.html' title='ouvi dizer que voce ta bem... que ja tem um outro alguem'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5080299454596197044</id><published>2011-12-30T12:47:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-30T12:47:37.573Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;147palavrinhas (sem contar com o titulo)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Minto se disse que nunca lhe disse que não&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Ele fazia-me rir. Ele completava aquela casa. Eu brincava com ele. Ele fazia-me cocegas e eu vingava-me. Ele gritava “estás a falar fininho”... Chegámos a saltar os dois naquela cama em pé... Muitas vezes saltava-me para as costas... e eu perdia a força e … caíamos. Às vezes fazíamos feridas os dois, mas só nos ria-mos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Na praia confessou que “o que mais quero é voltar a estar na cama contigo e com a tia”.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;E eu que pensava que ele era pequenino...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Habituei-me a ter uma criança na vida. Aprendi a chamar-lhe de amigo. Era estranho para mim ter um amigo tão mais novo. Ele foi crescendo e fomos mudando.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Hoje já me fala da sua namorada, e eu falo-lhe da minha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Muitas vezes pede-me para ir ao castelo, é lá que gosta de falar comigo... Nunca lhe disse que não &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5080299454596197044?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5080299454596197044/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/147palavrinhas-sem-contar-com-o-titulo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5080299454596197044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5080299454596197044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/147palavrinhas-sem-contar-com-o-titulo.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3909714071947340010</id><published>2011-12-30T12:40:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-30T12:40:43.312Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Depois de escrever tantos com 150palavras ou menos este saiu em exagero... não fosse sobre ele e eu não perdoava. Vou minimizar. já trago prontinho;) &amp;nbsp;que ninguem roube por favor. até fevereiro lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Todas as vezes que eu estava com ele, ele fazia-me rir. Não entendo bem porquê mas ele completava aquela casa. Eu brincava com ele. Ele fazia-me cocegas enquanto eu estava deitada, e eu vingava-me. Ele gritava e eu gritava ainda mais. Aliás eu é que gritava sempre e muito. “estás a falar fininho” dizia-me ele cada vez que eu me entusiasmava. Chegámos a saltar os dois naquela cama, em pé... e depois deixávamos a força de lado e caíamos no chão. Ele muitas vezes saltava-me para as costas... e eu perdia a força e caíamos no chão. Às vezes fazíamos feridas os dois, mas só nos saíam risos. Por certo que houve alturas que ele chorou, não me lembro...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Mas foi na praia, que me confessou que “o que mais quero é voltar a estar na cama contigo e com a tia”.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;E eu que pensava que ele era pequenino...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Habituei-me a ter uma criança feliz na vida. Aprendi a chamar-lhe de amigo. Era estranho para mim ter um amigo tão mais novo. A pouco e pouco ele foi crescendo e fomos mudando de brincadeiras.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div lang="pt-PT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;Hoje já me fala da sua namorada, e eu falo-lhe da minha. Muitas vezes ele pede-me para ir ao castelo, é lá que gosta de falar sobre isso... &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3909714071947340010?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3909714071947340010/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/depois-de-escrever-tantos-com.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3909714071947340010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3909714071947340010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/depois-de-escrever-tantos-com.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3353891776755286766</id><published>2011-12-29T17:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-29T17:55:41.536Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hoje tive um acidente, e o meu pensamento foi, caralho o blogue está activo.&lt;br /&gt;a verdade é que este blogue é pura mentira. bom não é bem mentira. mas 80% sim é.&lt;br /&gt;Fiquei com medo do que o meu 1 belo amor iria pensar. e tive medo. quis vir a correr aqui, e cá estou. quis ter a certeza que não era o meu fim e que não iam ficar aqui tantas asneiras escritas.&lt;br /&gt;asneiras que me limpam a alma.&lt;br /&gt;ao meu amor do presente. a quem lhe tenho o amor mais estranho do mundo. quem me ama, e me mima tanto que parece a perfeição. o amor que sempre sonhei.&lt;br /&gt;e ao meu outro unico amor, foi amor que te tive, foi dor e mágoa, tristeza também... não me fizeste nada descansa.&lt;br /&gt;há minha mãe... tenho-te um conto escrito para ti. só para te pedir as desculpas que não consegui. um dia mostro-te. amo-te.&lt;br /&gt;amo-te amor meu &amp;lt;3.&lt;br /&gt;a todas, com o maior respeito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pronto, ja posso morrer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3353891776755286766?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3353891776755286766/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/hoje-tive-um-acidente-e-o-meu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3353891776755286766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3353891776755286766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/hoje-tive-um-acidente-e-o-meu.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7868751076990467741</id><published>2011-12-28T23:25:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T23:25:15.361Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a verdade é que tenho é amor de mais... e isso é um problema.&lt;br /&gt;não fosse eu não ter problemas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7868751076990467741?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7868751076990467741/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/verdade-e-que-tenho-e-amor-de-mais.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7868751076990467741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7868751076990467741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/verdade-e-que-tenho-e-amor-de-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-742224263389371030</id><published>2011-12-28T23:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T23:23:38.117Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>estou habituada a ser a pequenina das relações. estava.&lt;br /&gt;agora sou eu que lhe digo: Falta pouco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ainda na cama de olhos fechados, falta-me aquele aperto constante de amor. Falta-me qualquer membro fora da cama. Falta-me o ralhar e o lutar pelo meu espaço.&lt;br /&gt;Falta-me a energia para sair da cama e ralhar para que se levante também. Falta-me aquela dobra que faz sempre no tapete da casa de banho, depois de eu tomar banho.Falta-me a companhia a lavar os dentes.&lt;br /&gt;Para não falar em todos os beijinhos que me dá nas maminhas. Falta-me o dar-lhe roupa minha. Falta-me o ter a roupa que não é minha.&lt;br /&gt;Falta-me as conversas matinais para que tome o pequeno almoço.&lt;br /&gt;Falta-me a companhia para o trabalho, que me deu férias.&lt;br /&gt;Falta-me a visita diária no trabalho.&lt;br /&gt;falta-me...&lt;br /&gt;falta-me companhia para ouvir a ultima oração, exagerado, beijar na boca e todas...&lt;br /&gt;a companhia de fumar uma ganza em quanto se ve um filme.&lt;br /&gt;companhias do amor...&lt;br /&gt;companhia para contar o dia...&lt;br /&gt;companhia para dar beijinhos&lt;br /&gt;companhia para contar uma historia&lt;br /&gt;companhia para tratar da Feliz&lt;br /&gt;Falta-me a companhia para estar feliz.&lt;br /&gt;mas isso, não se pode dizer. porque está quase a chegar e o quase falta muito. mas isso, aos pequeninos não se pode dizer.&lt;br /&gt;é que eu já não sou pequenina, faz de conta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-742224263389371030?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/742224263389371030/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/estou-habituada-ser-pequenina-das.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/742224263389371030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/742224263389371030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/estou-habituada-ser-pequenina-das.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3868259065365432704</id><published>2011-12-28T14:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T14:51:37.358Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>muitos me disseram que iam fazer uma tatuagem de mim. que queriam marcar na pele bla bla.&lt;br /&gt;mas apenas ela... o fez. e por amor que eu sei.&lt;br /&gt;como a voz dela me mata por estar longe. e não é por termos o mar pelo meio.&lt;br /&gt;o amor é uma coisa a vida é outra.&lt;br /&gt;é só isso. foi ela que me ensinou a aceitar. só ela.&lt;br /&gt;e é por ela que tenho a tatuagem que não posso apagar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3868259065365432704?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3868259065365432704/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/muitos-me-disseram-que-iam-fazer-uma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3868259065365432704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3868259065365432704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/muitos-me-disseram-que-iam-fazer-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5914049291358802368</id><published>2011-12-28T14:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T14:49:15.692Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>odeio-te e quero-te abraçar. quero chorar no teu colo. não deixaste&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5914049291358802368?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5914049291358802368/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/odeio-te-e-quero-te-abracar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5914049291358802368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5914049291358802368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/odeio-te-e-quero-te-abracar.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4472773051379356773</id><published>2011-12-28T14:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T14:46:48.044Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>e eu que não simpatizava com o caetano...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deu-me um abraço e disse-me o quanto ela falava de mim, sorriu-me e saiu fechando a porta. amei-a como nunca. depois parti chorando e disse-lhe que era o fim. há porta, em quanto corria a chorar ouvia-o a gritar que a casa dele estava aberta quando eu quisesse.&lt;br /&gt;ouvi ainda que o amor verdadeiro resiste a tudo.&lt;br /&gt;e ele sem saber o que dizia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4472773051379356773?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4472773051379356773/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/e-eu-que-nao-simpatizava-com-o-caetano.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4472773051379356773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4472773051379356773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/e-eu-que-nao-simpatizava-com-o-caetano.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4094701462809781045</id><published>2011-12-28T14:38:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T14:38:48.866Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmx4gM9xEPg"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmx4gM9xEPg&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não me esqueço do olhar do caetano em quanto nos olhávamos e chorávamos. cumplicidade é foda boa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4094701462809781045?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4094701462809781045/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4094701462809781045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4094701462809781045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_28.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7554329677003640707</id><published>2011-12-28T14:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T14:37:31.207Z</updated><title type='text'>saudadinhas</title><content type='html'>Foi um choque para mim quando ela disse que saudadinhas era merda. como que saudadinhas não eram saudades. mal ela sabia que saudadinhas era como quem diz saudades de te foder. hoje em dia usa a palavra saudadinhas para a amiga, e não entendo esta contradição. se a entendesse estava com ela.&lt;br /&gt;odeio-a. de todas as coisas que mexem neste mundo é a única por quem tenho ódio. e ódio feio. é por isso que me recuso a aproximar-me. consigo odiá-la mais do que alguma vez a amei. e este ódio sabe-me tão bem.&lt;br /&gt;mete-me nojo. nojo. nojo. nojo.&lt;br /&gt;mete-me nojo a capa de boa pessoa. mete-me nojo gostar dela. e querer abraça-la tanto quanto&amp;nbsp;odiá-la.&lt;br /&gt;Apetecia-me comprar-lhe as viragens do eco. aposto que ia adorar e escrever-lhe&lt;br /&gt;de quem não te sabe perdoar mas que te quer feliz para sempre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7554329677003640707?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7554329677003640707/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/saudadinhas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7554329677003640707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7554329677003640707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/saudadinhas.html' title='saudadinhas'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7196550966367980706</id><published>2011-12-28T13:53:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T13:53:46.567Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>amor não é mais que dar a mão sem medo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7196550966367980706?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7196550966367980706/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-nao-e-mais-que-dar-mao-sem-medo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7196550966367980706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7196550966367980706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-nao-e-mais-que-dar-mao-sem-medo.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8988070250720637599</id><published>2011-12-28T13:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T13:51:39.485Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>nao sei se ja escrevi mas quero que fique aqui registado.&lt;br /&gt;o dia em que eu apareci com uma camisola preta que dizia I &amp;lt;3 BARCELONA&lt;br /&gt;E ele contou-me que tinha uma camisola que dizia I &amp;lt;3 MB&lt;br /&gt;e no dia a seguir disse ao Rodrigo esta é a BARCELONA&lt;br /&gt;e ele respondeu-me .. um dia digo-te quem é a Maria Beatriz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8988070250720637599?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8988070250720637599/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nao-sei-se-ja-escrevi-mas-quero-que.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8988070250720637599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8988070250720637599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nao-sei-se-ja-escrevi-mas-quero-que.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7050031281738588169</id><published>2011-12-28T13:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-28T13:40:05.032Z</updated><title type='text'>Faz hoje um ano o melhor ano da minha vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-af44af263972169b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Daf44af263972169b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331312997%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DDCF7689E4E88A21E24B2649DEAF38589D6188B0.4D1891E7DD4E50DE01D0162F093E3D897323F74E%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daf44af263972169b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DWPFg2GCU9KSW450GgFus_iHlzJ0&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Daf44af263972169b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331312997%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DDCF7689E4E88A21E24B2649DEAF38589D6188B0.4D1891E7DD4E50DE01D0162F093E3D897323F74E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daf44af263972169b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DWPFg2GCU9KSW450GgFus_iHlzJ0&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Veja bem além destes fatos vis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;" /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Saiba, traições são bem mais sutis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;" /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Se eu te troquei não foi por maldade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;" /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Amor, veja bem, arranjei alguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;chamado "Saudade'.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Faz hoje um ano que me obrigaste a assumir tudo quanto te sentia. e desde esse dia até hoje, todos os meus dias foram muito felizes, com paz e com muita sorte. és me tanto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;com amor de quem jamais te saberá amar como mereces. mas que ama outra sem sabe-lo, jamais.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;obrigada&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Talvez na noite de natal, não conte. nessa noite não fui feliz. por isso um ano menos um dia. como tu me dizias foi um natal horrorozamente estranho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Mas quantos dias valem as noites quentes sem dormir nos quartos de hotel luxuosos? Quantos dias valem os contos que ambas contávamos com gargalhadas infinitas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Quantos anos valem a tua pele colada a minha?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Quantos séculos valem as vezes que adormeceste na banheira em cima de mim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;E o amor que fizemos quanto conta?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Quanto vale o amor puro sem medo e sem complicações?&amp;nbsp;&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/7751604407246013937-7050031281738588169?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7050031281738588169/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/faz-hoje-um-ano-o-melhor-ano-da-minha.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7050031281738588169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7050031281738588169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/faz-hoje-um-ano-o-melhor-ano-da-minha.html' title='Faz hoje um ano o melhor ano da minha vida'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5722981812773045558</id><published>2011-12-27T15:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-27T15:42:09.877Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>nada me faz tão feliz como andar na rua de mão dada ao meu amor com o sol a bater. liberdade e amor juntos sabe a felicidade pura&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5722981812773045558?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5722981812773045558/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nada-me-faz-tao-feliz-como-andar-na-rua.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5722981812773045558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5722981812773045558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nada-me-faz-tao-feliz-como-andar-na-rua.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6630388946202607877</id><published>2011-12-25T21:14:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-25T21:14:46.755Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJWkWyJPFew&amp;amp;feature=youtu.be"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJWkWyJPFew&amp;amp;feature=youtu.be&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando vi esta música ao vivo chorei.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6630388946202607877?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6630388946202607877/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_2189.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6630388946202607877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6630388946202607877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_2189.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5774870651448662742</id><published>2011-12-25T11:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-25T11:41:02.468Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 11px;"&gt;"&amp;nbsp;Fique atento com os aspectos negativos de seu caráter como a permissividade e a superindulgência (bebida, drogas ou sexo)."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 11px;"&gt;ao sexo são resisti.só com quem amo. mas sou viciada. quem não me dá sexo, não vale a pena dar mais nada..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5774870651448662742?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5774870651448662742/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/atento-com-os-aspectos-negativos-de-seu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5774870651448662742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5774870651448662742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/atento-com-os-aspectos-negativos-de-seu.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5444008393310179614</id><published>2011-12-25T11:30:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-25T11:30:21.967Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;Escorpião é o símbolo do sexo, e os escorpianos são pessoas muito apaixonadas e sensuais. Para os escorpianos fazer amor é um ato espiritual, e são capazes de sentir coisas que outros signos nunca conseguirão. Sua intensidade de sentimentos faz com que suas relações amorosas sejam profundas, mágicas e, às vezes, trágicas. Cuidam muito de seus amigos, mas quando são traídos é difícil recuperar sua amizade e confiança.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5444008393310179614?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5444008393310179614/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/escorpiao-e-o-simbolo-do-sexo-e-os.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5444008393310179614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5444008393310179614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/escorpiao-e-o-simbolo-do-sexo-e-os.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7007498221838596312</id><published>2011-12-25T11:17:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-25T11:17:36.282Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNv_2Z23UZc&amp;amp;feature=share"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNv_2Z23UZc&amp;amp;feature=share&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7007498221838596312?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7007498221838596312/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7007498221838596312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7007498221838596312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_25.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7467065235951448165</id><published>2011-12-25T06:32:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-25T06:32:38.462Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>é o segundo dia do ano que me sinto triste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7467065235951448165?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7467065235951448165/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/e-o-segundo-dia-do-ano-que-me-sinto.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7467065235951448165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7467065235951448165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/e-o-segundo-dia-do-ano-que-me-sinto.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7782784530092953691</id><published>2011-12-24T21:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-24T21:50:37.029Z</updated><title type='text'>o natal é sempre triste</title><content type='html'>tenho tudo na vida, tudo o que sempre sonhei, tudo o que quis.&lt;br /&gt;e o natal é triste.&lt;br /&gt;não entendo porquê.&lt;br /&gt;lembro-me que houve um natal que foi feliz, não foi em minha casa, e por isso sentia-me triste.&lt;br /&gt;dá-me vontade de chorar nestas alturas.&lt;br /&gt;parece tudo falso. cá em casa ninguém é religioso mas insistem em jantar todos juntos. cá em casa a mesa da cozinha vai para a sala e somos 4 na mesa. a televisão ligada e ali ficamos 4 a olhar para a televisão. não há nada que nos faça estar ali unidos a não ser a obrigação social de passar a &amp;nbsp;noite em família.&lt;br /&gt;é horrível. não há vontade nenhuma, pelo menos minha em tar ali... estou ali e apetece-me chorar por estar ali... por me sentir obrigada em estar ali... chega a esta hora e fico deprimida e triste.&lt;br /&gt;imagino as outras casas cheias de alegria e crianças e barulho e muita comida... e a minha noite é sempre silênciosa, vazia de pessoas, vazia de alegria até... e... é como se fosse pecado eu dizer isto, mas é verdade.&lt;br /&gt;quero ter familia para passar o natal com todos, e todos ficarem contentes por se encontrarem...&lt;br /&gt;esse é o principal motivo pela celebração do natal... juntar a familia..&lt;br /&gt;há sempre alguma coisa que me magoa. me faz chorar. me faz triste, mesmo triste. sempre.&lt;br /&gt;hoje... vejam só o ridiculo...&lt;br /&gt;a minha mae perguntou-me o que é que eu queria para o jantar e comprou tudo o que eu queria...&lt;br /&gt;e depois perguntou-me como se fazia os mexilhoes e eu disse tens que limpar e raspar bem a casca e poes com agua louro e pimenta...&lt;br /&gt;quando fui a ver os mexilhoes... estavam cheios de lixo na casca.. cheios de merda mesmo.. estavam brancos quando deviam estar laranjas, e nao sei o motivo.&lt;br /&gt;eu disse-lhe que ficava para amanha, para o almoço... mas ela insistiu em faze-los hoje...&lt;br /&gt;e saiu merda... irrita-me apetece-me chorar.. apetece-me mandar tudo para o caralho porra... merda do berbigao..&lt;br /&gt;mas sei que foi isso como podia ser outra merda qualquer,...&lt;br /&gt;agora estou rabugenta e danada...&lt;br /&gt;a verdade é que tenho tudo... mas sinto falta do amor puro e da vontade de estar junto e festejar.,.. é isso.. e isso não se compra nem se faz nada.. é isso que me entristece. finalmente descobri&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7782784530092953691?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7782784530092953691/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/o-natal-e-sempre-triste.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7782784530092953691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7782784530092953691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/o-natal-e-sempre-triste.html' title='o natal é sempre triste'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3523583009956460975</id><published>2011-12-23T13:42:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-23T13:42:59.450Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ter-te assim com o coração tranquilo sem medos é o que eu desejo para este natal.&lt;br /&gt;e já agora... que este ano não acabe...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3523583009956460975?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3523583009956460975/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ter-te-assim-com-o-coracao-tranquilo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3523583009956460975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3523583009956460975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ter-te-assim-com-o-coracao-tranquilo.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1390449594380635219</id><published>2011-12-23T13:37:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-23T13:37:53.472Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--uD5gOtFW7U/TvSEEbZHRrI/AAAAAAAAP4A/eMse3mKOLyw/s1600/IMG00413-20111222-1731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--uD5gOtFW7U/TvSEEbZHRrI/AAAAAAAAP4A/eMse3mKOLyw/s640/IMG00413-20111222-1731.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando sair da cama é difícil!! &amp;nbsp;e eu tenho que ser a forte!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1390449594380635219?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1390449594380635219/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-sair-da-cama-e-dificil-eu-tenho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1390449594380635219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1390449594380635219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-sair-da-cama-e-dificil-eu-tenho.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--uD5gOtFW7U/TvSEEbZHRrI/AAAAAAAAP4A/eMse3mKOLyw/s72-c/IMG00413-20111222-1731.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8892887372736282681</id><published>2011-12-22T23:53:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:53:48.290Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>so para terminar porque tenho muito xixi e fome.&lt;br /&gt;Do primeiro amor tenho tanta zanga e nojo e odio e baaaaaaah&lt;br /&gt;que só se o amar muito muito é que todas essas coisas se conseguem apagar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuiiiiiiiiii que um segundo amor não dura sempre. nem o frio. ufa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8892887372736282681?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8892887372736282681/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-para-terminar-porque-tenho-muito.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8892887372736282681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8892887372736282681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-para-terminar-porque-tenho-muito.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-816087789944299382</id><published>2011-12-22T23:51:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:51:53.903Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>já estou cansada de brincar aqui. vou brincar com o meu segundo amor &amp;lt;3 e o melhor até agora!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-816087789944299382?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/816087789944299382/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ja-estou-cansada-de-brincar-aqui.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/816087789944299382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/816087789944299382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ja-estou-cansada-de-brincar-aqui.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1951817483307549639</id><published>2011-12-22T23:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:50:43.137Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>realmente o primeiro amor não é de todo o melhor, ou o mais forte ou seja lá o que foi... bem que o meu primeiro amor me avisou. Ufa que venham muitos novos amores, mas o primeiro não... cada vez são melhores &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1951817483307549639?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1951817483307549639/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/realmente-o-primeiro-amor-nao-e-de-todo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1951817483307549639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1951817483307549639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/realmente-o-primeiro-amor-nao-e-de-todo.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7373146391718108318</id><published>2011-12-22T23:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:48:10.239Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vaX26Vx4Y4/TvPA8r5jpSI/AAAAAAAAP30/HbhYeUHHznI/s1600/frida-kahlo-cor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vaX26Vx4Y4/TvPA8r5jpSI/AAAAAAAAP30/HbhYeUHHznI/s320/frida-kahlo-cor.jpg" width="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Chegar fazer planos uma única vez, desconfio que é a melhor qualidade do meu amor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;um dia eu disse-lhe quero ir ver a exposição da Frida e ela... disse "quando?" (como sempre)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;e eu não sei o que respondi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;em casa quando pendurava o poster de Frida, dizia-lhe. "És igual à Frida" &amp;nbsp;e ela.. " não, não tu é que és"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;e eu... eu estou a por este poster porque me faz lembrar de ti&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;e eu já pus o meu na parede porque me faz lembrar de ti.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7373146391718108318?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7373146391718108318/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/chegar-fazer-planos-uma-unica-vez.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7373146391718108318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7373146391718108318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/chegar-fazer-planos-uma-unica-vez.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vaX26Vx4Y4/TvPA8r5jpSI/AAAAAAAAP30/HbhYeUHHznI/s72-c/frida-kahlo-cor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1062964538505847707</id><published>2011-12-22T23:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:43:39.486Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rWOvxNzN75Y/TvPAQHd89nI/AAAAAAAAP3o/YxgYweXDEII/s1600/IMG_7835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rWOvxNzN75Y/TvPAQHd89nI/AAAAAAAAP3o/YxgYweXDEII/s320/IMG_7835.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando a pessoa amada não tem medo.&lt;br /&gt;não tem medo também de dar a mão na rua, nem beijo, nem abraço&lt;br /&gt;quando a pessoa amada gosta de passear e de sorrir.&lt;br /&gt;quando a pessoa amada ama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando a pessoa amada dá o que nunca ninguém conseguiu dar, parece um deus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1062964538505847707?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1062964538505847707/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-pessoa-amada-nao-tem-medo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1062964538505847707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1062964538505847707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-pessoa-amada-nao-tem-medo.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rWOvxNzN75Y/TvPAQHd89nI/AAAAAAAAP3o/YxgYweXDEII/s72-c/IMG_7835.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6883516630927203525</id><published>2011-12-22T23:40:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:40:48.709Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pqTX0tt4loA/TvO_38tWzsI/AAAAAAAAP3c/bGgWEswQmQs/s1600/IMG_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pqTX0tt4loA/TvO_38tWzsI/AAAAAAAAP3c/bGgWEswQmQs/s320/IMG_0021.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;quando o aniversário tem:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;os amigos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;o amor&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;os pais&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;a avó&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;a minha casa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;juntos... é o aniversário perfeito.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6883516630927203525?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6883516630927203525/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-o-aniversario-tem-os-amigos-o.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6883516630927203525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6883516630927203525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-o-aniversario-tem-os-amigos-o.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pqTX0tt4loA/TvO_38tWzsI/AAAAAAAAP3c/bGgWEswQmQs/s72-c/IMG_0021.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-7297416938606052498</id><published>2011-12-22T23:36:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:36:07.070Z</updated><title type='text'>Cada vez que faço amor contigo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wYxteECh-4Y/TvO-udRQ_MI/AAAAAAAAP3Q/BY2v3ZvVIDw/s1600/IMG_7855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wYxteECh-4Y/TvO-udRQ_MI/AAAAAAAAP3Q/BY2v3ZvVIDw/s320/IMG_7855.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Tudo o que passei na vida faz sentido.tudo para te receber. tudo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;amor verdadeiro&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-7297416938606052498?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7297416938606052498/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/cada-vez-que-faco-amor-contigo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7297416938606052498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/7297416938606052498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/cada-vez-que-faco-amor-contigo.html' title='Cada vez que faço amor contigo'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wYxteECh-4Y/TvO-udRQ_MI/AAAAAAAAP3Q/BY2v3ZvVIDw/s72-c/IMG_7855.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-152524026341801632</id><published>2011-12-22T23:33:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:33:17.603Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmCmsuyEUjE/TvO-LD--MgI/AAAAAAAAP3E/5JJ9QNyqllA/s1600/IMG_7960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmCmsuyEUjE/TvO-LD--MgI/AAAAAAAAP3E/5JJ9QNyqllA/s320/IMG_7960.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando saudade bate&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-152524026341801632?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/152524026341801632/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-saudade-bate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/152524026341801632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/152524026341801632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quando-saudade-bate.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmCmsuyEUjE/TvO-LD--MgI/AAAAAAAAP3E/5JJ9QNyqllA/s72-c/IMG_7960.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-9061603055113549913</id><published>2011-12-22T23:30:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:30:54.430Z</updated><title type='text'>um dia fui passar o dia 12/11 a barcelona.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJrB6Ts84g0/TvO9ePRjm4I/AAAAAAAAP24/uHIaS5SO9IY/s1600/IMG_8214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJrB6Ts84g0/TvO9ePRjm4I/AAAAAAAAP24/uHIaS5SO9IY/s320/IMG_8214.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Depois de conhecer o meu verdadeiro amor de barcelona, unico.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;perdi o medo de ir a barcelona e fui... sem necessidade... fui... realizar o sonho que já estava realizado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;conhecer o meu amor de barcelona.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-9061603055113549913?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/9061603055113549913/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/um-dia-fui-passar-o-dia-1211-barcelona.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/9061603055113549913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/9061603055113549913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/um-dia-fui-passar-o-dia-1211-barcelona.html' title='um dia fui passar o dia 12/11 a barcelona.'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJrB6Ts84g0/TvO9ePRjm4I/AAAAAAAAP24/uHIaS5SO9IY/s72-c/IMG_8214.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6982969520522059587</id><published>2011-12-22T23:26:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:26:48.339Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s3TzpvI0SCE/TvO8nyYD2PI/AAAAAAAAP2s/va4KLjNowzA/s1600/DSCN8894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s3TzpvI0SCE/TvO8nyYD2PI/AAAAAAAAP2s/va4KLjNowzA/s320/DSCN8894.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;frigorífico&amp;nbsp;de duas pessoas que se amam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6982969520522059587?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6982969520522059587/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/frigorifico-duas-pessoas-que-se-amam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6982969520522059587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6982969520522059587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/frigorifico-duas-pessoas-que-se-amam.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s3TzpvI0SCE/TvO8nyYD2PI/AAAAAAAAP2s/va4KLjNowzA/s72-c/DSCN8894.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6764388679302484482</id><published>2011-12-22T23:24:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:24:10.687Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;nao bebo&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;nao fumo&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;nao drogas&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mas muuuuuuuuuuuuuiiiiiiiiiitoooooooooooooo sexo!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6764388679302484482?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6764388679302484482/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nao-bebo-nao-fumo-nao-drogas-mas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6764388679302484482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6764388679302484482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nao-bebo-nao-fumo-nao-drogas-mas.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8908120022607307209</id><published>2011-12-22T23:21:00.003Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:21:58.095Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>queria ter-te aqui na minha cama, a minha cama verdadeira, como da última vez.&lt;br /&gt;queria ter-te e queria foder-te toda.&lt;br /&gt;e depois adormecer contigo, abraçada a ti, como nunca consigo. (defeito)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8908120022607307209?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8908120022607307209/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/queria-ter-te-aqui-na-minha-cama-minha.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8908120022607307209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8908120022607307209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/queria-ter-te-aqui-na-minha-cama-minha.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1051897899114071291</id><published>2011-12-22T23:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:21:07.610Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>é que ter um amor fresquinho e novinho da minha idade é outra conversa.&lt;br /&gt;sim, não me venham com merdas. amor novo aprende depressa.&lt;br /&gt;amor velho só aprende quando muda de amor.&lt;br /&gt;ter um amor novo é sinal de fazer muito sexo, é sinal de ir comer ao japonês, é sinal de passear, é sinal de não precisar de fotografias&lt;br /&gt;amor novo é fazer amor e fazer barulho,&lt;br /&gt;amor novo é masturbar e fazer amor,&lt;br /&gt;amor novo é não ter vergonha do que apetece.&lt;br /&gt;amor da minha idade é sentir bem, tranquilidade e paz.&lt;br /&gt;é sentir que não preciso de ser mais nem menos.&lt;br /&gt;é sentir respeito, é ter compreensão. amor novo, é receber uma mensagem agora mesmo a dizer "eu queria chegar cedo a casa mas ja sei que nao vou conseguir..hehe! um beijinho na tua boca louca dianinha:)"&lt;br /&gt;amor da minha idade, é não ter medo de beijar, e de matar sem ar...&lt;br /&gt;é responder a dizer espero que estejas feliz e isso chega...&lt;br /&gt;nesta idade o amor é natural. seja por mim por ela, por ele, por animais...&lt;br /&gt;quando o amor existe só importa a felicidade e a sinceridade. e isso a mim faz-me bem...&lt;br /&gt;obrigada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1051897899114071291?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1051897899114071291/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/e-que-ter-um-amor-fresquinho-e-novinho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1051897899114071291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1051897899114071291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/e-que-ter-um-amor-fresquinho-e-novinho.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-5181446909066167127</id><published>2011-12-22T23:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:11:18.614Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a primeira vez que olhei para ela, estava ali em baixo, a olhar para mim...&lt;div&gt;a segunda vez estava dentro da minha casa (passado uns minutos) e foi quando eu percebi que era de barcelona&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e à noite estava ao meu lado na minha cama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e é ela... aquela pessoa... eu sei, ela sabe, todos sabem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;não se explica...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas é o amor da minha vida... do destino.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e entre nós, só nos falta... o que não nos faz falta...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-5181446909066167127?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5181446909066167127/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/primeira-vez-que-olhei-para-ela-estava.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5181446909066167127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/5181446909066167127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/primeira-vez-que-olhei-para-ela-estava.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4497949177303100386</id><published>2011-12-22T23:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:08:42.183Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A pessoa que é do brasil... a pessoa mais perfeita e com menos defeitos (nenhuns, gostar de cerveja não é defeito) que conheci... não dava, como se o dever dela na minha vida fosse proteger-me e mimar-me enquanto outra pessoa morria lentamente na minha vida. (foi sempre isto que ela me disse, daí eu estar a dizer isto).&lt;br /&gt;A verdade, toda a gente sabia que eu me ia apaixonar por uma pessoa de barcelona.&lt;br /&gt;E apaixonei.&lt;br /&gt;Apesar de não entender nada... é a barcelona...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4497949177303100386?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4497949177303100386/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/pessoa-que-e-do-brasil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4497949177303100386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4497949177303100386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/pessoa-que-e-do-brasil.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6746525169865129738</id><published>2011-12-22T23:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T23:05:58.738Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;um dia eu amei uma pessoa do brasil. muito. um dia essa pessoa mandou-me um mail com o codigo do voo para eu ir ter com ela. essa pessoa, já tinha vindo ao meu país 4 vezes. e era suposto eu ir e ficar duas semanas. essa pessoa vinha normalmente por trabalho, normalmente mas dessas quatro vezes, veio de&amp;nbsp;propósito. às vezes não avisava ninguém. passava duas noites e ia-se embora.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;eu e essa pessoa tínhamos a palavra perfeição para nos definir.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;ainda hoje não encontro um único defeito nessa pessoa.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;eu não fui nessa viagem de avião. &amp;nbsp;não fui. fui ao aeroporto e voltei para trás.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;sentia-me obrigada a ir, e eu sou contra em sentir coisas que não quero sentir.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;não tinha problemas por causa do dinheiro, porque essa pessoa também não os tem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;No dia seguinte, com medo de me arrepender, gastei algum do dinheiro que já tinha de parte para um "suposto carro" que não precisava. Comprei um bilhete de avião para o país dessa pessoa e fui.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Apenas a mãe dela sabia. Fui com medo de me arrepender de não ir, e então fui.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Cheguei, e foi o tio dela, que já conhecia, que me recebeu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Tudo sem ela saber, fiquei em casa de umas "primas-amigas" nunca percebi bem, que tinham uma casa muito grande e branca, bonita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Fiquei ali quatro dias, até perceber se queria ou não estar com aquela pessoa.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;A verdade é que ser a melhor pessoa do mundo não chega, o facto de conseguir ter orgasmos sempre ao mesmo tempo, também não chega. é preciso qualquer coisa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;mas fui ao brasil por essa pessoa, fui e voltei. não é amor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;só não consegui não visitar a cadela, sim a cadela dessa pessoa, que vinha sempre. que culpa tenho eu em apaixonar-me por animais?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;e todas as vezes que essa pessoa do brasil (que não sabe que eu lá estive dessa vez) vem a portugal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;canta a minha música preferida. todas as vezes recebo uma mensagem a dizer "ela recebe voce". umas vezes é só isso, outras é mais qualquer coisa, quando a cadela vem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;quando a cadela não vem, antes de eu chegar a casa recebo a foto mais recente da cadela dela.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Por muito que haja tudo entre nós, e ao mesmo tempo nada. há um respeito gigante entre eu e aquela cadela. como se aquela cadela...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;obrigada&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6746525169865129738?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6746525169865129738/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/um-dia-eu-amei-uma-pessoa-do-brasil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6746525169865129738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6746525169865129738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/um-dia-eu-amei-uma-pessoa-do-brasil.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-3808340525597227910</id><published>2011-12-22T22:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T22:42:09.730Z</updated><title type='text'>a forma mais facil de matar um humano</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jz-WyQvnJlQ/TvOstBLdPRI/AAAAAAAAP2I/GKOsezlM21A/s1600/ze+feliz+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jz-WyQvnJlQ/TvOstBLdPRI/AAAAAAAAP2I/GKOsezlM21A/s320/ze+feliz+3.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;é quando nos obrigam a matar um animal, no coração claro.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-3808340525597227910?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3808340525597227910/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/forma-mais-facil-de-matar-um-humano.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3808340525597227910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/3808340525597227910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/forma-mais-facil-de-matar-um-humano.html' title='a forma mais facil de matar um humano'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jz-WyQvnJlQ/TvOstBLdPRI/AAAAAAAAP2I/GKOsezlM21A/s72-c/ze+feliz+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1526961367232970011</id><published>2011-12-22T00:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-22T00:56:37.007Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>amor é ter a vodafone a ligar-me e a dizer-me que me oferece 10 min. por dia para eu falar para o brasil, uma vez que gasto um valor qualquer por mês para este país.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"E para espanha não posso ter um vale para este mês?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pode, mas se for empresa compensa..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não, não sou empresa, sou só namoradeira"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hihih &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1526961367232970011?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1526961367232970011/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-ter-vodafone-ligar-me-e-dizer-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1526961367232970011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1526961367232970011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-ter-vodafone-ligar-me-e-dizer-me.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6394598420509673416</id><published>2011-12-21T09:22:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-21T09:22:16.980Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXd8avtI7Po"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXd8avtI7Po&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e se eu te disser que eu quero aprender a me amar e te amar ao mesmo tempo, voce teria tempo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anda cantar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6394598420509673416?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6394598420509673416/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_1474.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6394598420509673416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6394598420509673416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_1474.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1333477630292154799</id><published>2011-12-21T09:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-21T09:21:18.165Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu disse sempre que o meu amor era de barcelona...&lt;br /&gt;eu disse...&lt;br /&gt;essas coisas sentem-se.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1333477630292154799?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1333477630292154799/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/eu-disse-sempre-que-o-meu-amor-era-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1333477630292154799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1333477630292154799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/eu-disse-sempre-que-o-meu-amor-era-de.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-129517589058156837</id><published>2011-12-21T09:19:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-21T09:19:47.419Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmSAIBYEvWQ"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmSAIBYEvWQ&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;falta-me a companhia de manhã para cantar ao acordar... falta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____-__&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-129517589058156837?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/129517589058156837/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/129517589058156837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/129517589058156837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww_21.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4308425498374975753</id><published>2011-12-21T00:57:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-21T00:57:20.207Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&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/7751604407246013937-4308425498374975753?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4308425498374975753/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4308425498374975753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4308425498374975753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-800621582409478625</id><published>2011-12-21T00:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-21T00:56:36.617Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>amor é sair do "verdadeiro" trabalho de embrulhos e ir matar saudades a lisboa e voltar cheinha de amor e contente e feliz.&lt;br /&gt;e estar acordada cheia de energia.&lt;br /&gt;amor é sentir que tudo está bem. é isso. estou farta de falar em amor. FARTA&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-800621582409478625?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/800621582409478625/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-sair-do-verdadeiro-trabalho-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/800621582409478625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/800621582409478625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-sair-do-verdadeiro-trabalho-de.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1802849103229274013</id><published>2011-12-21T00:54:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-21T00:54:43.761Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>amor é sentir que &amp;nbsp;a saudade só passa quando faço amor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1802849103229274013?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1802849103229274013/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-sentir-que-saudade-so-passa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1802849103229274013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1802849103229274013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-sentir-que-saudade-so-passa.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1213592409413587127</id><published>2011-12-17T10:39:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-17T10:39:24.125Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>amor é ter saudades da pessoa que está aqui ao meu lado&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1213592409413587127?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1213592409413587127/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-ter-saudades-da-pessoa-que-esta.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1213592409413587127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1213592409413587127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/amor-e-ter-saudades-da-pessoa-que-esta.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4658108606575586242</id><published>2011-12-17T10:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-17T10:39:07.552Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>nunca pensei ter um amor&lt;br /&gt;que tenho que mandar comer, tenho que tirar da cama e que vai comigo à aula de alongamento e consciencia corporal...&lt;br /&gt;está ao meu lado a ouvir o exagerado e a dizer esta musica é muito fixe&lt;br /&gt;nunca pensei ter um amor tão bom, uma vez que a minha vida é perfeita.&lt;br /&gt;tudo perfeito sabe a estranho.&lt;br /&gt;nunca soube receber elogios quanto mais tanta coisa boa.&lt;br /&gt;a felicidade incomoda muita gente. e a mim também.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4658108606575586242?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4658108606575586242/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nunca-pensei-ter-um-amor-que-tenho-que.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4658108606575586242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4658108606575586242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/nunca-pensei-ter-um-amor-que-tenho-que.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-4150434721624819052</id><published>2011-12-16T13:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-16T13:49:18.954Z</updated><title type='text'>"saiste muito rápido da cama"</title><content type='html'>&lt;em style="background-color: #e1771e; color: #663300; font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Mas tu não te deves esquecer dela. Ficas responsável para todo o sempre por aquilo que cativaste. Tu és responsável pela tua rosa..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em style="background-color: #e1771e; color: #663300; font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;Quando se deixa de cativar... por um dia... é fácil deixar de cativar um ano... e muito mais fácil para a vida toda.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;é por isso que eu digo que quem aguenta um dia, aguenta a vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;e é também por isso... que eu fico feliz quando estou ao telefone com a mãe do puto mais fixe a contar uma coisa má (nada a ver comigo) e mando um suspiro muito bom e oiço "então?" e eu digo "a espanhola apareceu-me aqui no trabalho" e oiço "manda beijinho, não não deixa-me falar com ela"... e elas falam... e oiço as felicitações... e...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;adoro cativar as pessoas de quem gosto. e gosto ser cativada.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;é que o natal é com a família, e vamos estar dias... eu aqui em portugal e ela ali no país vizinho. vai ser o primeiro dia e isso faz-nos felizes. (por ser só agora) [e não, suponho que não vamos aguentar para sempre, é só porque é natal]&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-4150434721624819052?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4150434721624819052/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/saiste-muito-rapido-da-cama.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4150434721624819052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/4150434721624819052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/saiste-muito-rapido-da-cama.html' title='&quot;saiste muito rápido da cama&quot;'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-2093380498116825984</id><published>2011-12-14T18:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-14T18:24:42.966Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-umnQ36KMTjY/TujpVOg0BrI/AAAAAAAAP10/Jd-mQ0fSwQU/s1600/IMG_2445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-umnQ36KMTjY/TujpVOg0BrI/AAAAAAAAP10/Jd-mQ0fSwQU/s320/IMG_2445.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quem tem coragem de sentir o que não quer,&lt;br /&gt;torna-se feliz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;já lá vai um ano. venha outro &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-2093380498116825984?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2093380498116825984/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quem-tem-coragem-de-sentir-o-que-nao.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2093380498116825984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/2093380498116825984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/quem-tem-coragem-de-sentir-o-que-nao.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-umnQ36KMTjY/TujpVOg0BrI/AAAAAAAAP10/Jd-mQ0fSwQU/s72-c/IMG_2445.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1370353979702054253</id><published>2011-12-14T18:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-14T18:20:11.644Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>todas as musicas de amor juntas não chegam para te dizer o quanto te amo.&lt;br /&gt;o quanto gosto de te tirar da cama&lt;br /&gt;o quanto te quero&lt;br /&gt;o quanto me sabes bem na vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amor tranquilo é mais feliz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1370353979702054253?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1370353979702054253/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/todas-as-musicas-de-amor-juntas-nao.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1370353979702054253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1370353979702054253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/todas-as-musicas-de-amor-juntas-nao.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6817833481552345917</id><published>2011-12-13T15:36:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-13T15:36:27.037Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;Como prenda de natal quero um ano tão bom como este e também um casaquinho alentejano, escolhido por mim. obrigada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6817833481552345917?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6817833481552345917/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/como-prenda-de-natal-quero-um-ano-tao.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6817833481552345917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6817833481552345917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/como-prenda-de-natal-quero-um-ano-tao.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-1836739991339915768</id><published>2011-12-13T00:39:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-13T00:39:10.875Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>tenho orgulho de ser feliz, e de sentir amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ao mesmo tempo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;juntinhos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-1836739991339915768?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1836739991339915768/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/tenho-orgulho-de-ser-feliz-e-de-sentir.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1836739991339915768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/1836739991339915768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/tenho-orgulho-de-ser-feliz-e-de-sentir.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6239952284229703930</id><published>2011-12-09T23:03:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-09T23:03:48.251Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>na cama quando tudo bate certo, sabe a perfeito.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6239952284229703930?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6239952284229703930/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/na-cama-quando-tudo-bate-certo-sabe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6239952284229703930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6239952284229703930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/na-cama-quando-tudo-bate-certo-sabe.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-6645700749619920837</id><published>2011-12-09T22:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-12-09T22:59:46.928Z</updated><title type='text'>ja nao me apetece escrever</title><content type='html'>tinha um episodio para escrever sobre a camisola verde de um amor antigo,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas chegou o meu amor recente,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e contei-lhe e passou a vontade de escrever sobre o amor antigo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bolas uqe estou a trabalhar e aqui não há camas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-6645700749619920837?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6645700749619920837/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ja-nao-me-apetece-escrever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6645700749619920837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/6645700749619920837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/ja-nao-me-apetece-escrever.html' title='ja nao me apetece escrever'/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7751604407246013937.post-8961219981734445823</id><published>2011-12-03T11:03:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-12-03T11:03:17.026Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5c-K6ZNWOM&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5c-K6ZNWOM&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;todo o amor perfeitinho tem uma musica. e uma chega&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7751604407246013937-8961219981734445823?l=lindacoisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8961219981734445823/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8961219981734445823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7751604407246013937/posts/default/8961219981734445823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lindacoisa.blogspot.com/2011/12/httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>mariana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16853161080215377004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xwu5TJenXg/Tudxcs-k-iI/AAAAAAAAP1E/uXio2BV765Y/s220/DSCN8939.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
