<?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-5310092992033003637</id><updated>2011-10-19T13:35:45.983+01:00</updated><category term='Riot'/><category term='Quotes'/><category term='Dançar'/><category term='Tentativa de estudo'/><category term='Cinema'/><category term='Inverno'/><category term='Introspecção'/><category term='Faculdade'/><category term='Medicina'/><category term='Divagando...'/><category term='música'/><category term='Finaly...'/><category term='Praxes'/><category term='Anatomia'/><category term='Mundo'/><category term='Cabeça no ar'/><category term='Natal'/><category term='Desporto'/><category term=':('/><category term='hahaha'/><category term='Humor'/><category term='Amigos'/><category term='Férias'/><category term='Politiquices'/><category term='FCML'/><category term='Sem Palavras'/><category term='Viciante'/><title type='text'>Pedaços de Momentos</title><subtitle type='html'>Todos nós temos momentos, uns melhores, outros piores, mas à parte isso são os nossos momentos. Devemos partilhá-los, nem que seja um pedaço, uma parte que mostre quem somos e o que queremos do mundo! Todos nós temos Pedaços de Momentos, todos nós temos uma opinião a dar...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3506723849068957281</id><published>2010-09-21T14:57:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T15:00:36.213+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Na vida, não é suposto que tudo dure para sempre, mas é imperativo que seja bom enquanto dura!&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/5310092992033003637-3506723849068957281?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3506723849068957281/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3506723849068957281&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3506723849068957281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3506723849068957281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2010/09/na-vida-nao-e-suposto-que-tudo-dure.html' title=''/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6122988880979864941</id><published>2010-08-12T15:35:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T15:37:36.981+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Will you live or simply exist?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TGQDnHQfL7I/AAAAAAAAAK8/89gebz0ulfo/s1600/1270148127256_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TGQDnHQfL7I/AAAAAAAAAK8/89gebz0ulfo/s320/1270148127256_f.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504528615051571122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 253px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Vais ver ou vais viver?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gosto de observar pessoas, de pensar de onde vêm, para onde vão e com que intenção o fazem. Uns sisudos, outros com uma expressão de pleno contentamento, outros embrenhados no seu dia atarefado, outros apenas preocupados em sorrir para a multidão. Todos nos comportamos de forma bastante distinta perante a vida e o que ela tem para nos oferecer (ou perante aquilo que merecemos receber?). Pode soar a cliché, mas efectivamente a vida dá voltas, surpreende-nos e prova-nos que mesmo quando pensamos que já não há hipótese de encontrar o ponto de retorno, inesperadamente tudo muda e estamos novamente em jogo. Diariamente somos surpreendidos com pequenos pormenores que nos fazem realmente acreditar que somos os comandantes do nosso próprio barco, e que apenas de nós depende a mudança do rumo que estamos a tomar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Somos o que a vida fez de nós, ou fomos nós os responsáveis pela vida que levamos? A experiência de vida faz de nós quem somos. Reviramos, crescemos, moldamo-nos e adaptamo-nos aos outros e estes a nós. Quantas vezes estivemos no sitio certo à hora errada? E quantas vezes estivemos no cenário perfeito mas olhámos para o lado oposto ao mais acertado? Não se trata de não querer viver, trata-se sim de perder oportunidades que nem sabíamos possíveis de realização. Negligenciar o que está mesmo diante do nosso nariz é mais frequente do que possamos imaginar. Não por actos egoístas ou por despotismo, mas sim porque não conseguimos ver para além do que damos por garantido. Magoamo-nos sem percebermos que o estamos a fazer. Mas sangrar por dentro por vezes é preciso. Dói, magoa e espicaça, e estranhamente liberta, alivia e descomprime. Funciona como &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;wake-up call&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. Parece quase sádico, mas a realidade é que todos precisamos de uma certa dose de adrenalina para nos libertarmos dos problemas mundanos, para deixarmos a nossa condição de meros observadores, de cidadãos passivos, e nos convertermos em intervenientes activos e efectivamente contribuintes para o percurso que fazemos. Preocupamo-nos de tal forma com coisas insignificantes que por vezes nos esquecemos de viver! Observamos e vamo-nos desviando dos obstáculos, mas não aproveitamos  os pequenos prazeres com que nos vamos deparando durante a viagem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Viver e existir são duas realidades que se complementam, que de antagónicas nada têm, mas que são bastante distintas! São quase como um limbo de emoções, oscilações que nos permitem viver ou apenas existir, activo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;versus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; passivo. Sendo impossível que isso aconteça a tempo inteiro, viver é o que nos realiza, o que nos impele a continuar a querer mais e melhor, enquanto observar nos permite identificar o que de facto se passa à nossa volta e o que queremos (ou não) para nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Não basta existir, é preciso viver! E viver é muito mais...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-6122988880979864941?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6122988880979864941/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6122988880979864941&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6122988880979864941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6122988880979864941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2010/08/will-you-live-or-simply-exist.html' title='Will you live or simply exist?'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TGQDnHQfL7I/AAAAAAAAAK8/89gebz0ulfo/s72-c/1270148127256_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3447109021466274011</id><published>2010-07-16T13:57:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T14:10:35.314+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Menina do Riso Fácil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEBZgzzkPGI/AAAAAAAAAKM/NpCZvDP_PGc/s1600/RedLittleFlower-450x613.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEBZgzzkPGI/AAAAAAAAAKM/NpCZvDP_PGc/s320/RedLittleFlower-450x613.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494489965589183586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Menina do riso fácil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Menina do riso fácil, e no entanto tantas vezes falacioso. Olhar vítreo, vazio de emoção, que goteja ao mínimo impulso. Coração que luta contra os seus mais sinceros instintos e sentimentos. Frases apartadas de sentido e de razão. Negação do que há muito sabe que é mais que certo (mentira piedosa para consigo e para com quem a rodeia; a injustiça não se vive apenas na primeira pessoa…). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tentar ignorar é luta inglória, sem motivação nem premissa de dever cumprido. Constantemente a digladiar-se contra si, contra o que sente, contra o que quer. Perder forças é fácil: é o atalho espinhoso de um caminho sinuoso, sombrio e solitário. A imagem imaculada e alba de malícia, de pessoa que desconhece o significado e aplicabilidade da palavra tristeza, permanece intocável, impreterivelmente mais aceite que uma imagem em declínio, em desuso de sorriso e bem-estar. Uma fachada fácil e útil, sobretudo em presença (in)desejada. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Caminhar diante do incerto, diante de um obstáculo que julgámos ser apenas uma utopia. Um fantasma terreno que ganhou forma e se tornou tão real como uma dor incerta naquilo que julgamos ser a nossa alma: invisível a quem nos contempla, e no entanto tão excruciante e visceral que mal podemos acreditar que de física não tem nada. Corroborar a teoria que Estar Feliz é definitivamente diferente de Ser Feliz… Fugazmente, tudo nos escapa entre os dedos trémulos e, sem controlo, resvalamos e deixamo-nos ficar, esperando que um dia tudo passe, tudo fique bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Menina do riso fácil, uma coisa é certa: um dia vai ficar tudo bem!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Um dia vais ficar bem…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-3447109021466274011?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3447109021466274011/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3447109021466274011&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3447109021466274011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3447109021466274011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2010/07/menina-do-riso-facil.html' title='Menina do Riso Fácil'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEBZgzzkPGI/AAAAAAAAAKM/NpCZvDP_PGc/s72-c/RedLittleFlower-450x613.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-2342302551549720361</id><published>2010-01-04T20:56:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-01-04T20:58:22.631Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;Posso não concordar com uma só palavra do que dizeis, mas defenderei até à morte o direito que tendes a dizê-las&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-2342302551549720361?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2342302551549720361/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=2342302551549720361&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2342302551549720361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2342302551549720361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2010/01/posso-nao-concordar-com-uma-so-palavra.html' title=''/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-493318651011366773</id><published>2009-05-26T12:16:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T12:18:05.223+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mundo'/><title type='text'>Dá que pensar...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/v0FsmdIndbc&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/v0FsmdIndbc&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-493318651011366773?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/493318651011366773/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=493318651011366773&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/493318651011366773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/493318651011366773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/05/da-que-pensar.html' title='Dá que pensar...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-8218270378024594541</id><published>2009-05-17T15:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T15:21:37.478+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Assim flutuamos. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Com o som do mar como pano de fundo. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E o vento quente a bater no corpo. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Assim quero flutuar. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Contigo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-8218270378024594541?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/8218270378024594541/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=8218270378024594541&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/8218270378024594541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/8218270378024594541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/05/assim-flutuamos.html' title=''/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6334837659595897726</id><published>2009-05-01T17:24:00.011+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T20:40:46.760+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'>Vou tentar ser feliz!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SfstSU2143I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/bD-kLIqiz4Q/s1600-h/chorar%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330904376782742386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SfstSU2143I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/bD-kLIqiz4Q/s320/chorar%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Os últimos dias têm sido pautados por um lacrimejar que me começou a afligir. Não sou de choro fácil, mas a tristeza tem sido uma constante. Tenho tentado escondê-lo e ignorar; só hoje assumi isso e confesso que me senti um pouco aliviada e preocupada... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hoje acordei, limpei as lágrimas e tomei uma decisão: vou tentar ser Feliz! Sim, porque embora toda a gente o queira, muitas são as pessoas que não lutam verdadeiramente por isso. Considero-me um desses casos; nunca dei real prioridade à minha felicidade. Julgava que sim, mas apercebi-me que não. Percebi também que só de mim depende a mudança de atitude! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tenho ultrapassado alguns problemas desviando-me deles, e não tentando resolvê-los de uma vez, encarando-os. Por isso tenho andado triste, porque não tenho a sensação de dever cumprido, porque sei que posso lutar por mim, lutar por ser feliz, lutar por ser amada; sei que posso fazer mais e bem melhor! Se correr mal, e perceber que não sou de todo bem-sucedida, então vou assumir isso. E aí posso dizer que lutei para ser feliz, caí e não me arrependerei de o ter feito, porque sei que me vou conseguir levantar. Sempre consegui, porque não iria conseguir agora? E tenho de me dar uma hipótese, de me dar verdadeiramente a conhecer, pois só assim conseguirei ficar mais próxima das pessoas que mais significado têm para mim, das pessoas que me conseguem colocar um verdadeiro e sincero sorriso nos lábios, e não aquele com que ando o dia inteiro já um pouco por força do hábito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tenho tido medo de me entregar, de me deixar ir, mas como constatei não foi a melhor atitude, não foi a melhor forma de encarar a vida e não tenho conseguido, de todo, ser feliz...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vou-me dar uma hipótese!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vou lutar por mim! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vou tentar ser feliz!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-6334837659595897726?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6334837659595897726/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6334837659595897726&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6334837659595897726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6334837659595897726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/05/vou-tentar-ser-feliz.html' title='Vou tentar ser feliz!'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SfstSU2143I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/bD-kLIqiz4Q/s72-c/chorar%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5861961162402881618</id><published>2009-04-02T23:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T23:09:09.335+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dançar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sem Palavras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cinema'/><title type='text'>Center Stage</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/O_78Y9JwoOk&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/O_78Y9JwoOk&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wish I could...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-5861961162402881618?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5861961162402881618/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5861961162402881618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5861961162402881618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5861961162402881618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/04/center-stage.html' title='Center Stage'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-444066167082780767</id><published>2009-03-26T17:22:00.012Z</published><updated>2009-04-11T19:46:53.760+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Porta Fechada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/Scu_T-Oq_pI/AAAAAAAAAJo/f6Ob95-9HXg/s1600-h/copy_15_door.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317554134883958418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/Scu_T-Oq_pI/AAAAAAAAAJo/f6Ob95-9HXg/s320/copy_15_door.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;A porta estava fechada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Miraste-a... Sabias que me pertencia, e isso proporcionou-te uma enorme vontade de a transpor. Mas não tinha chave. Descortinaste-a e tentaste abri-la. Não era uma tarefa fácil, mas era exequível. Entraste sem pedir licença, sem anunciar a tua tão pouco desejada chegada. Sem um pingo de vergonha, conheceste os cantos à casa. Puseste-te tão à-vontade que ninguém diria que este sítio não te pertencia. Vagueaste dentro daquelas quatro paredes, e esperaste que eu desse pela tua presença... Não foi preciso muito, apenas te limitaste a cruzar o teu olhar com o meu, e logo aí começou um jogo de contradições: intrigaste-me e assustaste-me, mas também me atraíste e fascinaste. Um dilema que desde logo me atormentou...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Não percebi as tuas intenções, o que pretendias de mim para invadir de forma tão ousada o meu espaço. Lutei para te por lá fora. Fiz de tudo para que percebesses que não eras bem-vindo, independentemente da razão que ali te levava. Mas segredaste-me ao ouvido coisas que queria ouvir, coisas que me fizeram começar a gostar da tua presença e me fizeram sentir mulher, e não uma menina inocente. Mas continuava sem perceber a tua verdadeira intenção. E quando quis aproximar-me ainda mais, viraste costas e saíste... Saíste, quando tudo o que eu queria era que ficasses mais um pouco. Tudo o que queria era que te sentasses a meu lado, me abraçasses, me beijasses, e me dissesses que estavas ali por mim, para mim. Somos diferentes, mas quem não o é? Quem me dera ter-te dito isto quando ainda o podia fazer, quando ainda o conseguia fazer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Ainda não percebi o que te levou às minhas quatro paredes. Ainda não percebi por que desde logo me cativaste e me fizeste sentir desejada. Ainda não entendi por que entraste sorrateiramente para sair logo de seguida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A porta estava fechada. Mal fechada, por sinal!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-444066167082780767?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/444066167082780767/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=444066167082780767&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/444066167082780767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/444066167082780767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/03/porta-fechada.html' title='Porta Fechada'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/Scu_T-Oq_pI/AAAAAAAAAJo/f6Ob95-9HXg/s72-c/copy_15_door.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3193353925617362942</id><published>2009-03-22T00:06:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-03-22T00:10:50.494Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everybody wants a place to start over. My new place is missing... My new start doesn't seem to be the next step... As always, my head is burnin' out!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-3193353925617362942?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3193353925617362942/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3193353925617362942&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3193353925617362942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3193353925617362942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/03/everybody-wants-place-to-start-over.html' title=''/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6850199580213445202</id><published>2009-03-21T22:00:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-03-21T22:05:36.177Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humor'/><title type='text'>Anedota tão mazinha... =P</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No Museu do Louvre&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;Depois de mais um reunião da CE, alguns Ministros resolvem passar pelo Louvre para "aliviar" o stress e param meditativos perante um excelente quadro de Adão e Eva no Paraíso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Desabafa Angela Merkel:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;- Olhem que perfeição de corpos: ela esbelta e esguia, ele com este corpo atlético, os músculos perfilados... São necessariamente estereotipos alemães. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Imediatamente Sarkosy reagiu:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;- Je ne crois pas. É evidente o erotismo que se depreende de ambas as figuras... ela tão feminina... ele tão masculino... sabem que em breve chegará a tentação... Só poderiam ser franceses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Movendo negativamente a cabeça, o Gordon Brown arrisca: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;- Of course not! Notem... a serenidade dos seus rostos, a delicadeza da pose, a sobriedade do gesto... Só podem ser Ingleses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Depois de alguns segundos mais de contemplação, Sócrates exclama:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;- NÃO CONCORDO. Reparem bem: não têm roupa, não têm sapatos, não têm casa, só têm uma maçã para comer... não protestam e ainda pensam que estão no Paraíso... Não tenham a menor dúvida, são portugueses!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-6850199580213445202?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6850199580213445202/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6850199580213445202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6850199580213445202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6850199580213445202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/03/anedota-tao-mazinha-p.html' title='Anedota tão mazinha... =P'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-2950239130614195595</id><published>2009-03-16T15:44:00.010Z</published><updated>2009-04-10T13:11:12.611+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hahaha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><title type='text'>Cavalinho na feira a comer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Hoje apeteceu-me postar sobre música. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Mas não uma música qualquer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Decerto já ouviram falar das músicas em inglês em que certas partes parecem cantadas em português!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Esta é um exemplo disso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Estava em casa de um amigo meu, quando ele colocou a tocar "Down Under" dos Men At Work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Vira-se ele para mim: "Nesta música, eles cantam em português, vê lá se não dizem 'Cavalinho na feira a comer' logo a abrir."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Lá coloca a música a tocar, e para minha surpresa dizem mesmo!! Tentei depois perceber o que realmente diziam em inglês mas não consegui, pois tinha o "Cavalinho na feira a comer" na cabeça! =P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Há ainda a "Smells like teen spirit", dos Nirvana, em que a música começa com um 'Não há pão quente' em açoreano.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Influência portuguesa pelo mundo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Curioso... loool xD E o &lt;em&gt;videoclip&lt;/em&gt; é um must =P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DNT7uZf7lew&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DNT7uZf7lew&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-2950239130614195595?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2950239130614195595/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=2950239130614195595&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2950239130614195595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2950239130614195595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/03/cavalinho-na-feira-comer.html' title='Cavalinho na feira a comer!'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-9208398380583726508</id><published>2009-03-01T16:56:00.010Z</published><updated>2009-04-11T19:48:17.587+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'>Círculos e afins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SarHdn5eV9I/AAAAAAAAAJg/NPgpnZ4MzAY/s1600-h/voyager.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308274422549731282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 315px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SarHdn5eV9I/AAAAAAAAAJg/NPgpnZ4MzAY/s320/voyager.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;É incrível como os sentimentos mudam, se transformam, se renovam. Hoje podemos adorar alguém, e amanhã esse alguém não passar de um simples desconhecido, ou mesmo de uma pessoa a evitar. Há ainda os estranhos casos de pessoas que não suportamos e que, mais tarde, se nos dão de tal forma que mal conseguimos viver sem elas... Este é o círculo de sentimentos, o círculo de relações e ligações que nos surgem diariamente, e que nos levam consigo, mudando-nos e moldando-nos de formas que nem um milhão de palavras consegue descrever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Sinceramente, eu tenho medo quando os meus sentimentos mudam. Tenho medo porque sei que não reajo bem, e levo algum tempo a acostumar-me e a racionalizar... A pensar friamente e a tomar decisões. Começo a seguir instintos, e isso não é um bom princípio... Não é mesmo!!! E enquanto estou a aprender a "lidar com", faço asneiras. Asneiras atrás de asneiras, magoo pessoas, desenvolvo novos sentimentos. E, sem dar por isso, entro no círculo novamente...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;E quanto nos impelem a entrar em círculos alheios? Aí sim, as coisas complicam-se desmesuradamente. Mas é impossível cingir a nossa vida a um só círculo. Bem tentamos escapar, tornear todo este labirinto de emoções e sensações que tanto nos assustam e afligem, não ter de encarar o que dentro de nós existe (ou está em falta...) que consegue proporcionar tremenda mágoa. Luta inglória, no entanto. Embora muitas vezes tentemos evitá-lo, todos os círculos se cruzam, se deformam, se dilatam, permitindo a entrada de novos &lt;em&gt;breakpoints&lt;/em&gt;, de novos sentimentos, de novas pessoas, por vezes de um novo vazio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Sem controlo, esticamos o nosso círculo de tal forma que, um dia, sem darmos por isso, ele vai começar a dar de si, e vai quebrar... E aí... Aí será tarde demais, e desejamos ter mais cedo aprendido a lidar com as nossas emoções. Apercebemo-nos que deveríamos mais cedo ter conseguido reagir, ter confiado em alguém e ter autorizado a sua entrada no nosso círculo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's not difficult to fall in love... Difficult is to be loved in return!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-9208398380583726508?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/9208398380583726508/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=9208398380583726508&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/9208398380583726508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/9208398380583726508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/03/circulos-e-afins.html' title='Círculos e afins'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SarHdn5eV9I/AAAAAAAAAJg/NPgpnZ4MzAY/s72-c/voyager.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-1151924562962910322</id><published>2009-02-25T00:50:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-02-25T00:53:35.674Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'>You Look So Fine</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/O2bUoqacYmo&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/O2bUoqacYmo&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;You look so fine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I want to break your heart &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;And give you mine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;You're taking me over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Garbage&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-1151924562962910322?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1151924562962910322/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=1151924562962910322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/1151924562962910322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/1151924562962910322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-look-so-fine.html' title='You Look So Fine'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3304125811481662049</id><published>2009-02-08T18:14:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-02-08T18:21:20.297Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humor'/><title type='text'>Perfect Couple =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S1ZZreXEqSY&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/S1ZZreXEqSY&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-3304125811481662049?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3304125811481662049/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3304125811481662049&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3304125811481662049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3304125811481662049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/02/perfect-couple.html' title='Perfect Couple =)'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-82968289590818985</id><published>2009-01-19T22:47:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-01-19T22:57:37.803Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mundo'/><title type='text'>Think First...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVmtXmTI/AAAAAAAAAJI/aXVNu67Gr4w/s1600-h/jobsintown1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293141706258487602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 227px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVmtXmTI/AAAAAAAAAJI/aXVNu67Gr4w/s320/jobsintown1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVjfZlPI/AAAAAAAAAJA/JTMQI5odhaY/s1600-h/untitledljhf.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293141705394590962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 227px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVjfZlPI/AAAAAAAAAJA/JTMQI5odhaY/s320/untitledljhf.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;

&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVYQx1QI/AAAAAAAAAI4/yF_C0FqlBtk/s1600-h/untitledkgfsd.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293141702380475650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVYQx1QI/AAAAAAAAAI4/yF_C0FqlBtk/s320/untitledkgfsd.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;


&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVQlJyWI/AAAAAAAAAIw/qbfpGRSACgo/s1600-h/39132.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293141700318447970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVQlJyWI/AAAAAAAAAIw/qbfpGRSACgo/s320/39132.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;...Decide Later!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life's too short for the wrong job!
&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;



&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;



&lt;div&gt;



&lt;div&gt;



&lt;div&gt;





&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-82968289590818985?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/82968289590818985/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=82968289590818985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/82968289590818985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/82968289590818985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/01/think-first.html' title='Think First...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SXUEVmtXmTI/AAAAAAAAAJI/aXVNu67Gr4w/s72-c/jobsintown1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-4272824892924854021</id><published>2009-01-11T20:46:00.020Z</published><updated>2009-02-02T16:27:06.929Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>Um desafio</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Ao visitar o blog da &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://reconditaparte.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Gui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;, deparei-me com um post algo diferente e, embora não me tivesse sido proposto directamente, decidi responder ao desafio.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;O desafio consiste no seguinte:&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 -&lt;/strong&gt; Escolher uma foto individual;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2 -&lt;/strong&gt; Escolher uma banda ou artista; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3 -&lt;/strong&gt; Responder às perguntas do desafio com músicas da banda/artista escolhido; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4 -&lt;/strong&gt; Desafiar mais quatro pessoas.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290213609958846338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SWqdP9-Ir4I/AAAAAAAAAH4/bCFUAYFkVn0/s200/gala%2B070.jpg" border="0" /&gt;


&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Banda/Artista: Jason Mraz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; És homem ou mulher? - Butterfly &lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Descreve-te - Only Human&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt; O que as pessoas acham de ti? - 1000 Things &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.&lt;/strong&gt; Como descreves o teu último (antes do actual) relacionamento? - Long Road To Forgiveness &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5.&lt;/strong&gt; Descreve o estado actual da tua relação amorosa - Conversation With Myself/ On Love, In Sadness &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.&lt;/strong&gt; Onde querias estar agora? - Fly Me To The Moon&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7.&lt;/strong&gt; O que pensas a respeito do amor? - A Beautiful Mess&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8.&lt;/strong&gt; Como é a tua vida? - Sleeping To Dream&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9.&lt;/strong&gt; O que pedirias se pudesses ter só um desejo? - Luck(y)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10.&lt;/strong&gt; Escreve uma frase sábia - &lt;em&gt;Hold your own, know your name and go your own way. And everything will be fine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;
&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;
As próximas vítimas são: Manel, Joanas, João. =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-4272824892924854021?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4272824892924854021/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=4272824892924854021&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4272824892924854021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4272824892924854021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/01/um-desafio.html' title='Um desafio'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SWqdP9-Ir4I/AAAAAAAAAH4/bCFUAYFkVn0/s72-c/gala%2B070.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5034561461460520198</id><published>2009-01-11T19:51:00.011Z</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:22:03.070Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inverno'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'>Fora do Lugar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SWpS1EmfyvI/AAAAAAAAAHw/gysZCx-10fk/s1600-h/silencio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290131784021822194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SWpS1EmfyvI/AAAAAAAAAHw/gysZCx-10fk/s320/silencio.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Lá fora fazia frio, o vento passeava por entre as ruas desertas, apartadas de gente e de sentido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Apesar de tudo, preferia estar lá fora, onde o silêncio imperava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Dentro de si ouvia vozes. Não vozes de loucura, desesperadas. Mas sim da sua consciência. Vozes que não queria escutar, que não queria descortinar.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tinha a cabeça a latejar, mas as vozes não deixavam de se fazer ouvir... Não a deixavam racionalizar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Contrapunham-se. Contradiziam-se. Contradiziam-na. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Remoiam a sua consciência, gritavam o seu sofrimento.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Pediu que fizessem silêncio. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Mas elas não se calaram. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Deixou-se ficar no seu canto, tapou os ouvidos, fechou os olhos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tentou acalmar-se. Não adiantava batalhar contra elas. Implorou apenas que não mudassem o seu mundo. Mas no fundo, tudo o que ela queria era que o pudessem fazer... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Quando finalmente se fez silêncio, nada estava onde lhe pertencia estar... Nada estava onde ela gostava que estivesse. Degladiou-se então com a ideia de vir a desiludir-se uma vez mais... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-5034561461460520198?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5034561461460520198/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5034561461460520198&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5034561461460520198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5034561461460520198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2009/01/fora-do-lugar.html' title='Fora do Lugar'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SWpS1EmfyvI/AAAAAAAAAHw/gysZCx-10fk/s72-c/silencio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5351412742091456077</id><published>2008-12-21T04:09:00.024Z</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:22:35.831Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inverno'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'>Mais um ano...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;A noite já vai longa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Estou sentada em frente ao computador, a desbaratar ideias soltas, acompanhada por música triste, para não variar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tenho os pés gelados, os olhos a pesar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Não me apetece dormir. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Mais do que não ter sono, simplesmente não me apetece dormir. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Quando não tenho sono, dá-me para escrever, para reflectir. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Pus-me a pensar em 2008. Um ano, no mínimo, cheio de coisas para contar. No mínimo, intenso. Considero-o um limbo. Uma estranha indecisão entre &lt;em&gt;mau&lt;/em&gt; e &lt;em&gt;não tão mau quanto isso&lt;/em&gt; . Entre o que aconteceu e o que devia ter acontecido; entre o que pensei para este ano e o que realmente se concretizou. Foi pautado por momentos marcantes, dos melhores que já vivi. Mas os maus momentos também se fizeram notar, estragando toda e qualquer pretensão de ser um bom ano. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Amizades feitas e desfeitas, acidentes de percurso, enganos de toda a espécie, visitas inesperadas (e indesejadas), (in)confidências, viagens e aventuras (ou desventuras). Como sempre, este foi o &lt;em&gt;menu&lt;/em&gt; principal. É sempre este o &lt;em&gt;menu&lt;/em&gt; a que nos sujeitamos. A diferença é que, este ano, o preço que paguei pela maior parte destes pequenos itens foi demasiado alto em relação ao que estava disposta a pagar. Mas não me arrependo de (quase) nada. Não me arrependo de ter investido nalgumas coisas. Noutras nem tanto... Mas faz tudo parte do processo de crescimento; de outra forma talvez não fizesse tanto sentido nem fosse tão importante...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Agora que 2008 já lá vai (ou está quase a fazer parte do passado), é de esperar que 2009 corra substancialmente melhor. Pior é quase impossível, &lt;em&gt;but you never know...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&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/5310092992033003637-5351412742091456077?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5351412742091456077/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5351412742091456077&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5351412742091456077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5351412742091456077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/12/mais-um-ano.html' title='Mais um ano...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-8664123284952501767</id><published>2008-12-21T02:35:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-21T02:44:16.366Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mundo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politiquices'/><title type='text'>Obama Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SU2r-zGMEvI/AAAAAAAAAHg/YvfFcHxieVA/s1600-h/time.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282067033331864306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SU2r-zGMEvI/AAAAAAAAAHg/YvfFcHxieVA/s320/time.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;It's Obama Time! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Will it be a good Time? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;I hope so...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;The World hope's so...&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/5310092992033003637-8664123284952501767?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/8664123284952501767/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=8664123284952501767&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/8664123284952501767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/8664123284952501767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/12/obama-time.html' title='Obama Time'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SU2r-zGMEvI/AAAAAAAAAHg/YvfFcHxieVA/s72-c/time.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-4764929767992407468</id><published>2008-12-19T22:32:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-19T22:40:37.694Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dançar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viciante'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><title type='text'>Kids - Para viciar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bIEOZCcaXzE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bIEOZCcaXzE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Ouço uma e outra vez. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Apetece-me dançar, sair do meu canto, ouvi-la alto e bom som. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Fica quase no &lt;em&gt;repeat&lt;/em&gt;, até me fartar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;E depois... Depois volto a viciar-me novamente!&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/5310092992033003637-4764929767992407468?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4764929767992407468/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=4764929767992407468&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4764929767992407468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4764929767992407468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/12/para-viciar.html' title='Kids - Para viciar'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-7716931041238637186</id><published>2008-12-15T21:39:00.009Z</published><updated>2009-02-08T18:22:51.372Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>So Here We Are</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dzZQJZdcCU4&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dzZQJZdcCU4&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lovely&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peaceful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Melodic&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gently Uplifting &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Great Video &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-7716931041238637186?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7716931041238637186/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=7716931041238637186&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7716931041238637186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7716931041238637186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-here-we-are.html' title='So Here We Are'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-8190659997640076657</id><published>2008-12-11T12:44:00.011Z</published><updated>2008-12-11T14:52:53.378Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Efemeridades</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SUEoajkg5BI/AAAAAAAAAHY/7SYFYWy5KHY/s1600-h/untitledee.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278544674945033234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SUEoajkg5BI/AAAAAAAAAHY/7SYFYWy5KHY/s320/untitledee.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Ontem apercebi-me do real significado da expressão: a vida é efémera. Ontem apercebi-me que tudo aquilo que sonhei, tudo aquilo que construí, se pode desvanecer em segundos, em meros instantes que fogem do nosso controlo, para não deixar sequer tempo para um último adeus, um último olhar. Ontem apercebi-me que se tivesse sido o último dia, o último de tão poucos (e que, no entanto, do alto da nossa sapiência, já nos parecem uma eternidade...), eu não teria tido oportunidade de dizer tanta coisa, fazer tanta coisa, lutar por tanta coisa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Fiquei deveras incomodada com este facto... Apercebi-me que, em determinadas situações, o EU passa para segundo plano. Tudo o que está de certa forma ligado à nossa pessoa toma o papel principal, torna-se na condição &lt;em&gt;major&lt;/em&gt;, passando a gerir tudo o que dizemos e fazemos naquele momento de sufoco. As proporções tomadas são de tal forma gigantes que só queremos um abraço para nos recompor, para poder sentir alguma segurança, e, em seguida, tentamos o tudo por tudo para perceber se está tudo bem, se poderá ficar tudo bem, se temos hipótese para mostrar a quem nos é importante o que realmente sentimos, de dizer tudo o que ficou por dizer, de pedir desculpa, de agradecer, de amar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;O tempo passa, a vida passa, escapando-nos entre os dedos... Cada momento vivido é só mais um pouco de efemeridade patente nas nossas vidas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;No fim ficou tudo bem, pelo menos fisicamente... Pode não ter acontecido nada de grave, mas marcou-me de uma forma que nunca pensei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ainda ouço o som... Julgo que ainda o vou ouvir por muito tempo...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&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/5310092992033003637-8190659997640076657?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/8190659997640076657/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=8190659997640076657&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/8190659997640076657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/8190659997640076657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/12/efemeridades.html' title='Efemeridades'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SUEoajkg5BI/AAAAAAAAAHY/7SYFYWy5KHY/s72-c/untitledee.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5517153928054623055</id><published>2008-12-05T20:24:00.015Z</published><updated>2008-12-06T00:26:05.117Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inverno'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Natal'/><title type='text'>Cheirinho a Natal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/STnFS4xHX-I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/HWrs5sXyHsI/s1600-h/neve.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276465366707953634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/STnFS4xHX-I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/HWrs5sXyHsI/s320/neve.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Já começo a sentir o cheirinho a Natal&lt;/span&gt;. Confesso que é por esta época que espero todo o ano. Não pelas prendas, não pelas férias, não pelo dia em si, mas antes pelo espírito que se vive nesta altura. E talvez o facto de fazer anos por estes dias também tenha a sua importância =P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
Sabe bem andar na rua e passear entre a multidão de pessoas atarefadas e concentradas na sua vida, sentir o friozinho na cara e ter o aconchego de um cachecol quentinho, ver as decorações de Natal que enchem a cidade e que lhe dão um toque tão especial... Parar numa esplanada e bebericar um cafezinho enquanto ponho a conversa em dia. Ou simplesmente ficar em casa, acender a lareira e enroscar-me no sofá a ver um filme. Sem preocupações! Sem nada para me atazanar a cabeça! Fazer a árvore de Natal, embrulhar os presentes, preparar a consoada. É todo um ritual que adoro!&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Nem toda a gente é assim. Há quem simplesmente não dê importância a esta época. Ou quem viva a época, mas não de uma forma tão marcada. Aproveitam apenas os 2 dias reservados para a família, e é quando o fazem na totalidade. Muitos outros ainda se aproveitam do Natal para fazer o lucro que não conseguiram fazer ao longo do ano. Mas este é o Natal moderno. Este é o nosso Natal. Alguém se lembra do porquê de celebrar esta data? A maior parte de nós nem sequer é religioso... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;As pessoas estão mais felizes, mais esquecidas da crise, mas tudo o que é pensado para esta época, tudo o que imaginamos, tem de passar indubitavelmente por uma grande superfície comercial. Cada vez mais, Natal é sinónimo de consumismo. Na azáfama de encontrar o presente ideal, as pessoas esquecem-se de viver a época, de aproveitar ao máximo os dias em que, por força da tradição ou não, conseguem ter toda a família reunida, sem desculpas para fugir ou para não ficar para jantar. E os anúncios na televisão? Nos meses de Novembro e Dezembro deixa de haver pausas nos programas para compromissos comerciais: há antes pausas nos compromissos comerciais para que se possa falar um bocadinho da actualidade ou ocupar a cabeça com coisas para além de brinquedos, bonecos, consolas, jogos, toda uma panóplia de engenhocas que apenas querem dizer: gaste mais dinheiro, e verá que não se vai arrepender! Pelo menos não para já... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Mas isto tudo faz parte! Isto tudo é indissociável do Natal. E se assim não fosse, então não teria tanto significado e não traria tantas recordações, sejam elas boas ou más...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&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/5310092992033003637-5517153928054623055?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5517153928054623055/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5517153928054623055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5517153928054623055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5517153928054623055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/12/cheirinho-natal.html' title='Cheirinho a Natal'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/STnFS4xHX-I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/HWrs5sXyHsI/s72-c/neve.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-827385139864309223</id><published>2008-11-24T22:48:00.006Z</published><updated>2008-11-25T18:18:16.429Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':('/><title type='text'>Saudades, ou falta delas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SSsxSP6NyeI/AAAAAAAAAF4/07YEpXRuOcc/s1600-h/Saudade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 311px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SSsxSP6NyeI/AAAAAAAAAF4/07YEpXRuOcc/s320/Saudade.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272361978345408994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Eu sinto saudades, não vou mentir, não vou dizer que não. Mas às vezes é preciso cortar com o passado para poder seguir em frente, para poder voltar a ter algo por que lutar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Principalmente quando nos magoa, o que já vivemos deve ser deixado para segundo plano; devemos apenas guardar a lição que aprendemos, para não cairmos na mesma tentação duas vezes. Quando nos deixamos invadir novamente pelo passado, por vezes as coisas tornam-se confusas, temos um turbilhão de ideias e sentimentos ao mesmo tempo, e não conseguimos discernir e perceber qual o seu real significado. Há assuntos que pensamos estar já mais que enterrados mas, como quem não quer a coisa, voltam muitas vezes para nos assombrar, pondo em causa o que já tinhamos deixado de questionar. E aí, todo o esforço que fizemos, todo o exercício mental que executámos, vai por água abaixo, e sentimo-nos a resvalar de novo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pensava que já tinha ultrapassado o passado, mas bastou-me ter um vislumbre do mesmo para relembrar tudo o que se passou... =(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/5310092992033003637-827385139864309223?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/827385139864309223/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=827385139864309223&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/827385139864309223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/827385139864309223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/11/saudades-ou-falta-delas.html' title='Saudades, ou falta delas...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SSsxSP6NyeI/AAAAAAAAAF4/07YEpXRuOcc/s72-c/Saudade.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5827286900579094908</id><published>2008-11-02T21:31:00.008Z</published><updated>2008-11-02T22:15:16.767Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FCML'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Férias'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amigos'/><title type='text'>@ Cibeme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SQ4mKP1kIEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/GQY7WmfVhcA/s1600-h/Imagem1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SQ4mKP1kIEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/GQY7WmfVhcA/s320/Imagem1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264186971934433346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Inicialmente eram 3, pareceram 10, mas foram 5. Cinco dias maravilhosos que tão cedo não esquecerei! Recheados de charadinhas, é certo, mas também cheios de bons momentos que aproximaram um grupo quase improvável de pessoas... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Fizemos tudo, passámos por muito! Mas apoiámo-nos e soubemos lidar com todas as situações menos boas de uma forma bastante positiva. Fortalecemos muitos laços, criámos outros tantos. Ainda ontem voltámos à realidade, e já temos vontade de repetir, de fazer tudo outra vez! Adorei o espírito, adorei a cidade, adorei a viagem e, acima de tudo, adorei as pessoas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Miss them already...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: 16px;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Só faltaram mesmo as sopinhas da mamã e a frutinha, mas isso é outra história =P&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/5310092992033003637-5827286900579094908?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5827286900579094908/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5827286900579094908&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5827286900579094908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5827286900579094908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/11/cibeme.html' title='@ Cibeme'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SQ4mKP1kIEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/GQY7WmfVhcA/s72-c/Imagem1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-7140418705210429672</id><published>2008-11-02T21:28:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-01-12T16:08:12.816Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>Details In The Fabric</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S9kQrt9tPug&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/S9kQrt9tPug&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Obrigada por ma teres mostrado =)&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/5310092992033003637-7140418705210429672?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7140418705210429672/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=7140418705210429672&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7140418705210429672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7140418705210429672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/11/details-in-fabric.html' title='Details In The Fabric'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-554631323375778754</id><published>2008-10-27T21:30:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-10-27T21:43:14.591Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><title type='text'>Crónica da Estação dos Correios</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SQY1ESkjJyI/AAAAAAAAAFY/yinZ9tKGPwc/s1600-h/esperar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261951562449889058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SQY1ESkjJyI/AAAAAAAAAFY/yinZ9tKGPwc/s320/esperar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tanto silêncio nesta casa e tanta voz que me fala. Da janela vejo as mulheres que sobem a rua levando os sacos do supermercado. A rua é inclinada e elas devagarinho passeio acima, com os tendões dos braços saídos, os tendões do pescoço saídos, o cabelo a tremer. Porque razão me comovem na manhã suja, outonal, de setembro? As árvores começam a perder as folhas, pombos por aqui e por ali, vários cinzentos feios nas nuvens. Um par de homens a consertarem não sei quê num buraco. Deve ser isto o que as pessoas chamam vida e, se é isto, que miséria: ninguém sorri. Tenho de ir aos Correios buscar livros da América, de França, do raio que o parta: tira-se um papelinho com um número, espera-se entre gente que espera. Da última vez tirei o número 65, ia a procissão no 12. Fico séculos para ali, a olhar. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Espera-se para tudo, somos feitos não de carne, de paciência, se calhar já nascemos com um papelinho na mão.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Retire aqui o seu bilhete e aguarde a sua vez. Aguardo a minha vez. Desde que me conheço que aguardo a minha vez. A minha vez de quê? E lá fora uma chuvinha sem peso. Um princípio não bem de frio, de desconforto.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#006600;"&gt;António Lobo Antunes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-554631323375778754?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/554631323375778754/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=554631323375778754&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/554631323375778754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/554631323375778754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/10/crnica-da-estao-dos-correios.html' title='Crónica da Estação dos Correios'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SQY1ESkjJyI/AAAAAAAAAFY/yinZ9tKGPwc/s72-c/esperar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3053456678371985210</id><published>2008-10-13T23:04:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T23:14:36.349+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Poderia...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num toque.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De mãos, de lábios.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um toque de cumplicidade&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dos nossos corpos sábios.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num grito.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De desespero, de aflição.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um grito do fundo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Da nossa alma sem perdão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num olhar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De denuncia, de entendimento.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um olhar de céu&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do nosso carregado pensamento.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num gesto.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De suavidade, de violência.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um gesto de lavado&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do nosso ego em evidência.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num toque,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas nunca me tocaste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num grito,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas nunca me gritaste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num olhar,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas nunca me olhaste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser num gesto,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas nunca me mimaste...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Mas sem ti ficar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Significa ver-te sem mim, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Nem ao de leve te poder tocar, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Significa que apenas te vou olhar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Ao longe, com alguém &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Que não eu, um ninguém...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Poderíamos ser o que nunca fomos&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sairmos do que somos,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poderia ser-nos permitido &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Uma das coisas que à vida dá mais sentido: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O amor puro e desmedido,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do qual o coração é um aprendiz...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#006600;"&gt;[adaptação]&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/5310092992033003637-3053456678371985210?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3053456678371985210/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3053456678371985210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3053456678371985210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3053456678371985210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/10/poderia.html' title='Poderia...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3230614227896957661</id><published>2008-10-13T22:56:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T23:00:40.224+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Silêncio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Fechei todas as janelas e portas para não voltares a entrar. Para ninguém entrar. Mas há aquela pessoa que vem quando quiser. Vem sem ser esperada e por isso fica. Depois disto, há sempre &lt;em&gt;aquela pessoa&lt;/em&gt;...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Se há uma voz que dói&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;É a do silêncio,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;É aquela que te recolhe e mói&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;O rosto fraco do pensamento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Do silêncio e da dor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Sobra pouco, sobra nada,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Sobra pouco amor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Sobra nada de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;É tempo de silêncio,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;De inspiro profundo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;De dor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;De pouco,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;De deixar levar-se no tempo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#006600;"&gt;[algures na blogosfera]&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/5310092992033003637-3230614227896957661?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3230614227896957661/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3230614227896957661&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3230614227896957661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3230614227896957661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/10/fechei-todas-as-janelas-e-portas-para.html' title='Silêncio'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-2960868807479984505</id><published>2008-10-13T22:07:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T23:10:39.410+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faculdade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FCML'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Medicina'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Praxes'/><title type='text'>SANTANA!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SPO6hs4dViI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4avYZ547hjE/s1600-h/fcml.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256750278217913890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SPO6hs4dViI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4avYZ547hjE/s400/fcml.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;A semana de praxes está a chegar ao fim... Este ano tive o prazer de colaborar com o Mui Nobre Grémio Académico da FCML na organização desta semana espectacular! &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;=)&lt;/span&gt; Espero em breve poder integrar esta grande família que, ano após ano, recebe a caloirada e permite que a faculdade seja desmistificada e Medicina não pareça um bicho de 7 cabeças (embora, hoje em dia, essa ideia ainda me passe de vez em quando pela cabeça &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;=P&lt;/span&gt; lool). Já agora, encontrei este texto no fórum de Santana, e achei que descreve exactamente o que senti enquanto caloira e o que ainda hoje recordo com um sorriso nos lábios...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Depois de um fim-de-semana de pura alegria em que festejaram o cumprir do principal objectivo da sua vida, rumam a Lisboa para se matricularem no curso dos seus sonhos. Detêm-se em frente da belíssima fachada do edifício do Campo de Santana, respiram fundo e passam pela grande porta de entrada. São imediatamente recebidos por uma vasta comitiva de veteranos e doutores* que, no seu porte elegante de gente sábia, tratam de meter os caloiros à vontade. É aí que se travam os primeiros conhecimentos no meio académico. É, por vezes, nessa altura, que se fazem amizades que irão perdurar durante os seis anos que se seguem ou, quiçá, para o resto da vida. Entretanto, começam as aulas e, com elas, a semana de praxes, pela qual todos os estudantes esperam ansiosamente. Os caloiros, inicialmente assustados com a grandiosidade do meio e a possibilidade de virem a ser humilhados em público, rapidamente se libertam dos seus preconceitos e se juntam à festa da praxe em que não existe humilhação, mas sim puro convívio. Acaba-se a semana de praxes, começa o estudo. Os caloiros são bombardeados com uma densidade de informação sem precedentes no seu inocente percurso escolar. Olham para os calhamaços que têm à frente e tentam a todo o custo decorar todas as palavras escritas sobre o osso frontal. Um caloiro olha desesperadamente para mim e pergunta: “Os outros ossos são assim tão difíceis?”. Eu sorrio, pousando a minha mão sobre o seu ombro, e digo: “Bem-vindo à Faculdade de Ciências Médicas! Aqui começa a tua vida!”. &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;=)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-2960868807479984505?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2960868807479984505/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=2960868807479984505&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2960868807479984505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2960868807479984505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/10/santana.html' title='SANTANA!!!!!!'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SPO6hs4dViI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4avYZ547hjE/s72-c/fcml.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-7657850637497467749</id><published>2008-10-05T20:42:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T21:15:30.156+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Riot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mundo'/><title type='text'>Pleeeeaseee, don't vote!!! This is a Riot!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Psicologia Inversa: Para quê votar se está tudo como gostamos? Ou então não...&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Darfur?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Drugs?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Global Warming?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wars?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know what the fuck that is, that sounds like a t-shirt company to me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;

&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0vtHwWReGU0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0vtHwWReGU0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-7657850637497467749?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7657850637497467749/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=7657850637497467749&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7657850637497467749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7657850637497467749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/10/para-qu-votar-this-is-riot.html' title='Pleeeeaseee, don&apos;t vote!!! This is a Riot!!!!'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-7360253912307985853</id><published>2008-09-28T17:30:00.015+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T19:56:10.101+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Gosto!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Gosto de me levantar e gritar para as minhas quatro paredes 'Good Morning Vietname!', olhar para a desarrumação crónica do meu quarto e nem sequer pensar em tirá-lo da guerra... ver o despertador e perceber que afinal tinha mais dois minutos para dormir e, em vez de ficar chateada, rir à gargalhada e toca a levantar! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Gosto de festas, de sair, de me divertir sem ter hora para voltar, sem ter ninguém a controlar. Gosto de ficar enroscada numa manta em dias de inverno chuvoso, a observar a lareira, e se a companhia for a ideal ainda melhor! Gosto de pessoas, de conversas, de trocadilhos, de piadas, de recordações, principalmente as arrancadas em momentos inesperados e de uma forma espontânea. Gosto que impliquem comigo e pensar 'não quero saber', de ignorar as vozes irritantes que teimam em querer estragar o meu dia. Gosto que a boa disposição reine à minha volta, que o tempo passe sem tempos mortos, sem silêncios sepulcrais, permitindo saborear os bons momentos e deixando que novos laços se criem. Gosto dos cafés ao final da tarde e dos olhares trocados numa qualquer esquina com quem nos compreende, das peripécias e tumultos que um mero passeio pela baixa nos traz e do facto de adorar ter o meu espaço e o meu tempo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Gosto de poder fazer as coisas como quero, como acho que estão certas, mas também gosto que me digam quando estou a errar e a pôr para trás algo de importante. Gosto de uma noite especial cheia de estrelas e de uma lua cintilante, mas também de um dia solarengo e recheado de surpresas e &lt;em&gt;special gifts&lt;/em&gt;. Gosto de música, de ligar o meu ipod em qualquer altura, em qualquer lugar, e ficar no meu cantinho a curti-la, a poder descobrir novas formas de cantar a vida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Gosto de passear em Lisboa, no meio da multidão, no rebuliço do dia-a-dia, de chocar com pessoas de quem gosto e que não vejo há séculos e ficar feliz por tê-lo feito. Gosto de pegar no carro e num grupo de amigos e conduzir à deriva, sem destino, só para passar o tempo, cantarolar os últimos sucessos da rádio e rir das nossas figuras hediondas e tão politicamente incorrectas. Gosto de viajar, de ver novos sítios, conhecer novas culturas, perceber o quão rico é o mundo e que não nos podemos cingir à nossa bolhinha! E gosto que me acompanhem nestas descobertas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Gosto simplesmente porque gosto. Gosto porque gosto da vida. Gosto porque gosto de viver!!! =)&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/5310092992033003637-7360253912307985853?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7360253912307985853/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=7360253912307985853&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7360253912307985853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7360253912307985853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/gosto.html' title='Gosto!'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6598487244980044901</id><published>2008-09-26T19:35:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T19:41:26.574+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mundo'/><title type='text'>Projecto 10 elevado a 100</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;... a Google lançou o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.project10tothe100.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Projecto 10 elevado a 100&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;. O objectivo é reunir "ideias para mudar o mundo ajudando o maior número de pessoas possível". As 5 ideias que ajudem mais pessoas terão ao seu dispor um orçamento de 10 MILHÕES (!!!!) de dólares que ajudarão a levá-las para a frente. &lt;p&gt;Alguém tem alguma ideia?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KuTrVRRbh5U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KuTrVRRbh5U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-6598487244980044901?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6598487244980044901/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6598487244980044901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6598487244980044901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6598487244980044901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html' title='Projecto 10 elevado a 100'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-959666763717552954</id><published>2008-09-22T22:26:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T12:50:02.872+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Palhaços...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SNgOQsOk2-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/mnyO7PnLMVI/s1600-h/The_Sad_Clown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248961045613304802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SNgOQsOk2-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/mnyO7PnLMVI/s320/The_Sad_Clown.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Triste. Um palhaço triste. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Imagem confusa, que põe em causa a definição de palhaço que conhecemos. Pensamos sempre em alguém feliz, de bem com a vida, e que transmita uma alegria imensa a quem o observa. Não, talvez não...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Por dentro, o palhaço pode estar triste, amargurado, desfeito. Mas não o pode demonstrar. Não pode fraquejar nem desiludir o seu público. Tem de ser forte, de conseguir, nem que seja apenas por algumas horas, mostrar que está tudo bem, que os infortúnios não lhe batem à porta. Tem de dizer a quem o escuta que a tristeza não pode ter lugar cativo no seu dia-a-dia. Mas e a &lt;em&gt;ele&lt;/em&gt;? Alguém lhe diz que tudo vai correr bem? Não, talvez não...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Já tantas vezes se repreendeu por ser demasiado racional e optimista perante os outros, mas a dificuldade em exteriorizar os &lt;em&gt;seus&lt;/em&gt; sentimentos (e não os da imagem que faz transparecer) falou sempre mais alto. Embora imprima sempre algo de si durante o espectáculo, a realidade que mais o perturba é escondida, é retirada do guião. Esta fachada, esta forma de lidar com os problemas, não é necessariamente a ideal, mas é a realidade que ele conhece; a realidade em que ele quer acreditar para não se magoar. Nega a si próprio a felicidade por inteiro com medo do sofrimento, da desilusão. Faz sempre o contrário do que acredita e costuma aconselhar, do que sabe que tem de fazer; mal tira a maquilhagem, quando já despiu a alegria e a euforia, volta a ser &lt;em&gt;a pessoa&lt;/em&gt;, o homem comum, o errante, e como tal tem de lidar com os seus fantasmas e preocupações, muitas vezes sozinho, quase sempre sem sucesso... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ah… Mas isso é tão humano... Quantos de nós já dissemos: esquece isso, segue em frente, luta por aquilo, faz o que está certo. Mas quando nos toca a nós, bem, isso já é outra coisa! Fazemos quase sempre o que dizemos aos outros para não fazerem, muitas vezes nem fazemos nada! Mas é sempre tão mais fácil falar... &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;No fundo somos todos meio palhaços...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Não perco tempo com lamechices e raramente me permito chorar uma dor. Não dou muita confiança à tristeza, para que ela não se instale, mas não vejo isso como uma qualidade...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;MLG
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-959666763717552954?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/959666763717552954/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=959666763717552954&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/959666763717552954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/959666763717552954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/palhaos.html' title='Palhaços...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SNgOQsOk2-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/mnyO7PnLMVI/s72-c/The_Sad_Clown.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-2058467677911829457</id><published>2008-09-17T21:06:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:23:31.256Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faculdade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Finaly...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anatomia'/><title type='text'>Finaly Free =D</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Já está!!!! Já fiz o temido exame e ... PASSEI!!!!! Que alívio, que peso que tirei de cima... Obrigada pela força =D Agora é entrar no 3º ano com o pé direito!!! E com umas praxezitas pelo caminho =P Muahahahaha xD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-2058467677911829457?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2058467677911829457/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=2058467677911829457&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2058467677911829457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/2058467677911829457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/finaly-free-d.html' title='Finaly Free =D'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3084589545526432340</id><published>2008-09-14T16:44:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T12:02:43.637+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Imaginário</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Por vezes, o nosso imaginário leva-nos até mundos que nunca sonhámos conhecer, dota-nos de capacidades que nunca sonhámos ter, imprime-nos poderes que nunca sonhámos possuir. É através dele que nos libertamos e personificamos pessoas que gostaríamos de ser, executamos actividades que gostaríamos de realmente desempenhar e somos amados por quem luxuriosa e secretamente desejamos. O objecto do nosso desejo torna-se então atingível, passível de ser alcançado. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;
Este imaginário, aquele (praticamente) impossível de ser transposto para a realidade, consegue manter-nos vivos e permite-nos acreditar que a vida ainda nos poderá fazer tropeçar em muitas surpresas: umas que ansiamos, outras sob a forma de presentes envenenados, qual injecção rápida e eficaz de retorno à realidade, à condição de meros aspirantes a Seres felizes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;
Ninguém nos ensina a sonhar. Somos nós que, aos poucos, nos vamos apercebendo do quão aliciante é a vida e do que podemos fazer para a tornar melhor e mais atractiva. A perfeição não existe, mas é preciso querermos sempre mais, querermos atingir um novo patamar. É preciso sabermos que podemos ter mais, que podemos ser mais, que nos podemos reinventar! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-3084589545526432340?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3084589545526432340/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3084589545526432340&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3084589545526432340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3084589545526432340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/imaginrio.html' title='Imaginário'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-3472363181389902591</id><published>2008-09-03T16:50:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:23:55.164Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faculdade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tentativa de estudo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anatomia'/><title type='text'>O meu (pouco) estudo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tenho tentado estudar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tentar é a palavra certa, pois a vontade e a concentração têm sido muito poucas... Eu bem tento, mas o meu pensamento voa sempre numa outra direcção...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;E o pior de tudo é que, a cada dia que passa em que os objectivos não foram cumpridos, eu penso que ainda tenho tempo! Ainda irei conseguir recuperar o tempo perdido! Mas revela-se sempre uma tarefa inglória, que torna os últimos dias de estudo, a véspera, um sufoco, uma tentativa desenfreada de recuperar o que já não tem recuperação possível! Realmente estudar sob pressão permite aumentar a concentração e a velocidade de estudo (aliás, fazer qualquer coisa sob pressão, pelo menos comigo, acaba por resultar melhor), mas geralmente isso só acontece quando já é tarde, quando já não há nada a fazer, quando desejamos ter acordado mais cedo! E a isto junta-se uma matéria com a qual nunca me dei muito bem...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Oxalá passe depressa. Oxalá a motivação consiga suplantar a inércia que sinto ao olhar para os livros, para &lt;em&gt;aqueles&lt;/em&gt; livros...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-3472363181389902591?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3472363181389902591/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=3472363181389902591&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3472363181389902591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/3472363181389902591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/o-meu-pouco-estudo.html' title='O meu (pouco) estudo'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6457150523517054050</id><published>2008-09-03T16:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T17:12:15.924+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>A.L.A.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Vivo só. Não me custa. Quer dizer às vezes, à noite, custa, mas faz de conta que não custa. Ando a escrever um livro que não faço a menor ideia quando acabarei: &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;são tão difíceis as palavras e demorei anos a dar conta disso&lt;/span&gt;. Ao princípio era canja. Até a gente perceber que há uma diferença entre escrever bem e escrever mal: então começa a angústia. Um pouco mais tarde percebe-se que há uma diferença, ainda maior, entre escrever bem e obra-prima: então a aflição é completa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;António Lobo Antunes&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/5310092992033003637-6457150523517054050?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6457150523517054050/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6457150523517054050&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6457150523517054050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6457150523517054050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/09/vivo-s.html' title='A.L.A.'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5809582306677227904</id><published>2008-08-31T13:36:00.010+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T20:09:55.607+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Finaly...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cabeça no ar'/><title type='text'>Eu NÃO fui!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SLqSb7DukMI/AAAAAAAAADY/s0mX6JLiJIE/s1600-h/RIR.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240662124806443202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SLqSb7DukMI/AAAAAAAAADY/s0mX6JLiJIE/s320/RIR.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;


&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Encontrei o meu lindo (e dispendioso xD) bilhete para o Rock in Rio! Sim, o festival de música a que (quase) toda a gente foi menos eu, porque perdi o bilhete... em casa! =S &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Ainda pensei em vendê-lo ou dá-lo a um amigo, mas isso foi antes de me aperceber que ele tinha desaparecido do mapa!&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Aqui está a prova. Ainda tenho (alguma) lucidez! Eu sabia que ele estava cá em casa (embora muito boa gente duvidasse da minha cabecinha, sabe-se lá porquê =P), agora onde...&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;p&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Enfim, para a próxima lembrem-me de dizer a alguém o lugar &lt;em&gt;seguro&lt;/em&gt; onde guardo estas coisas =P &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-5809582306677227904?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5809582306677227904/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5809582306677227904&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5809582306677227904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5809582306677227904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/eu-no-fui.html' title='Eu NÃO fui!'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SLqSb7DukMI/AAAAAAAAADY/s0mX6JLiJIE/s72-c/RIR.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-4408675670764278800</id><published>2008-08-27T20:24:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T18:19:20.357+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>Seguir em frente</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SLWsNLsSbRI/AAAAAAAAADQ/y6C7PDeu0QE/s1600-h/fernando+pessoa.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239283083992263954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SLWsNLsSbRI/AAAAAAAAADQ/y6C7PDeu0QE/s320/fernando+pessoa.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sempre é preciso saber quando uma etapa chega ao final... Se insistirmos em permanecer nela mais do que o tempo necessário, perdemos a alegria e o sentido das outras etapas que precisamos viver. Encerrando ciclos, fechando portas, terminando capítulos. Não importa o nome que damos, o que importa é deixar no passado os momentos da vida que já se acabaram. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;
Pode dizer para si mesmo que não dará mais um passo enquanto não entender as razões que levaram certas coisas, que eram tão importantes e sólidas na sua vida, serem subitamente transformadas em pó. Mas tal atitude será um desgaste imenso para todos: os seus pais, os seus amigos, os seus filhos, os seus irmãos, todos estarão a encerrar capítulos, a virar a folha, a seguir em frente, e todos sofrerão ao ver que você está parado. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ninguém pode estar ao mesmo tempo no presente e no passado, nem mesmo quando tentamos entender as coisas que acontecem connosco. O que passou não voltará: não podemos ser eternamente meninos, adolescentes tardios, filhos que se sentem culpados ou rancorosos com os pais, amantes que revivem noite e dia uma ligação com quem já foi embora e não tem a menor intenção de voltar. As coisas passam, e o melhor que fazemos é deixar que elas realmente possam ir embora... Por isso é tão importante (por mais doloroso que seja!) destruir recordações, mudar de casa, dar muitas coisas para orfanatos, vender ou doar os livros que tem. Tudo neste mundo visível é uma manifestação do mundo invisível, do que está a acontecer no nosso coração... e o desfazer-se de certas lembranças significa também abrir espaço para que outras tomem o seu lugar. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deixar ir embora. Soltar. Desprender-se. Ninguém joga nesta vida com cartas marcadas, portanto às vezes ganhamos, e às vezes perdemos. Não espere que lhe devolvam algo, não espere que reconheçam o seu esforço, que descubram o seu génio, que entendam o seu amor. Pare de ligar a sua televisão emocional e assistir sempre ao mesmo programa, que mostra como você sofreu com determinada perda: isso apenas o envenenará, e nada mais. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não há nada mais perigoso que rompimentos amorosos que não são aceites, promessas de emprego que não têm data marcada para começar, decisões que sempre são adiadas em nome do "momento ideal". Antes de começar um capítulo novo, é preciso terminar o antigo: diga a si mesmo que o que passou, jamais voltará! Lembre-se de que houve uma época em que podia viver sem aquilo, sem aquela pessoa - nada é insubstituível, um hábito não é uma necessidade.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pode parecer óbvio, pode mesmo ser difícil, mas é muito importante. Encerrando ciclos. Não por causa do orgulho, por incapacidade, ou por soberba, mas porque simplesmente aquilo já não se encaixa mais na sua vida. Feche a porta, mude o disco, limpe a casa, sacuda a poeira. Deixe de ser quem era, e transforme-se em quem é. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Torna-te uma pessoa melhor e assegura-te de que sabes bem quem és tu próprio, antes de conheceres alguém e de esperares que ele veja quem tu és. E lembra-te:Tudo o que chega, chega sempre por alguma razão!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Fernando Pessoa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Tão antigo, mas tão actual... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Por vezes, as pessoas embrenham-se de tal forma nos seus problemas e contratempos que se esquecem de viver...&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/5310092992033003637-4408675670764278800?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4408675670764278800/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=4408675670764278800&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4408675670764278800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4408675670764278800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/seguir-em-frente.html' title='Seguir em frente'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SLWsNLsSbRI/AAAAAAAAADQ/y6C7PDeu0QE/s72-c/fernando+pessoa.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-424945768840581161</id><published>2008-08-26T18:31:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T20:12:28.260+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Javan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;=S&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/5310092992033003637-424945768840581161?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/424945768840581161/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=424945768840581161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/424945768840581161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/424945768840581161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-dont-wish-to-be-everything-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6473948864497633203</id><published>2008-08-22T00:48:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T15:05:58.496+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sem Palavras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Desporto'/><title type='text'>Perfect 10</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;E já que abri este tópico, decidi &lt;em&gt;postar&lt;/em&gt; a fantástica exibição da menina prodígio da ginástica. Para ser sincera, nunca tinha visto este vídeo, mas é algo que consegue deixar qualquer um sem palavras! Sabe bem abrir o bauzinho dos velhos tempos... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V5gR0g8lHIs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V5gR0g8lHIs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-6473948864497633203?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6473948864497633203/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6473948864497633203&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6473948864497633203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6473948864497633203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/perfect-10.html' title='Perfect 10'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-885008522574895732</id><published>2008-08-22T00:38:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T15:06:10.257+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Finaly...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Desporto'/><title type='text'>Ouro em Pequim</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK396W5NTHI/AAAAAAAAADI/Zq40PGUKtNA/s1600-h/NelsonEvora.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237121120721521778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK396W5NTHI/AAAAAAAAADI/Zq40PGUKtNA/s320/NelsonEvora.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tenho-me abstido de comentar, mas hoje não posso evitar! Finalmente Portugal conseguiu uma medalha de ouro nestes Jogos Olímpicos &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;=)&lt;/span&gt; O Nélson Évora merece, sem dúvida, este prémio por todo o trabalho que tem vindo a desenvolver. &lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Parabéns!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;São parcas as condições oferecidas aos desportistas, mesmo aos atletas de alta competição (à excepção do futebol, claro...). E quando falo em condições, não me refiro apenas aos aspectos monetários, embora estes também deixem muito a desejar... Só acho que o governo devia financiar e promover o desporto de uma forma diferente, de uma forma que incentive os mais novos a praticar uma actividade que os ajude a descomprimir e a esquecer o seu mundo durante umas horas. Falo com conhecimento de causa, e sei o que muito me custou ver uma equipa ter o seu fim por falta de apoios! Enfim... Também não se poderia esperar muito de um governo que nem na educação e na saúde sabe investir correctamente! &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/5310092992033003637-885008522574895732?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/885008522574895732/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=885008522574895732&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/885008522574895732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/885008522574895732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/ouro-em-pequim.html' title='Ouro em Pequim'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK396W5NTHI/AAAAAAAAADI/Zq40PGUKtNA/s72-c/NelsonEvora.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-1156884633957447470</id><published>2008-08-21T23:42:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T20:17:26.449+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>RedShoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK37E91HFPI/AAAAAAAAADA/w66W-CMI7So/s1600-h/rita+redshoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237118004437128434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK37E91HFPI/AAAAAAAAADA/w66W-CMI7So/s320/rita+redshoes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK34tw34bcI/AAAAAAAAAC4/G-PF7HaDkVI/s1600-h/rita+redshoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Quando ouvi esta música pela primeira vez deliciei-me! É &lt;em&gt;deprê&lt;/em&gt;, sim sr, mas por aí logo se vê que seria uma das minhas músicas de eleição &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;xD&lt;/span&gt; A Ritinha tem uma voz diferente, límpida! Sem dúvida um dos grandes talentos portugueses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Espero que gostem &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;=D&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;
&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gicTD39zJZk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gicTD39zJZk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't wanna hear I wanna fight, 'cause this time I won't be wrong &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I can waste this precious time, asking where do I belong &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So let me know your love is real, 'cause this time you won't control &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tell me please what do you feel, do I have to save your soul &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-1156884633957447470?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1156884633957447470/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=1156884633957447470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/1156884633957447470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/1156884633957447470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/redshoes.html' title='RedShoes'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SK37E91HFPI/AAAAAAAAADA/w66W-CMI7So/s72-c/rita+redshoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-7420071761356654915</id><published>2008-08-18T14:48:00.013+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T20:03:03.440+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Hetero, homo, bi... e então?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SKmJj_9YcaI/AAAAAAAAACk/r4eeMykFWOM/s1600-h/37183.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235867293352227234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SKmJj_9YcaI/AAAAAAAAACk/r4eeMykFWOM/s320/37183.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;A diferença apenas existe na nossa cabeça. O verdadeiro Eu das pessoas que nos rodeiam não está patente na sua cor, no seu corpo, na sua opção sexual. Reside antes no seu interior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Porquê discriminar alguém que sente como nós, ri como nós, chora como nós, ama como nós? Ninguém escolhe por quem se apaixona. Eu posso apaixonar-me por homens, tu por mulheres, mas o teu amigo pode apaixonar-se por pessoas do mesmo sexo e a tua amiga por pessoas, independentemente se estas são X ou Y! E isso faz deles piores pessoas? Evidentemente que não!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Hoje em dia não se justifica a ignorância que reina na população em relação ao assunto "orientação sexual", mesmo em camadas mais jovens. Doença? Mas quem foi a alminha (mal) iluminada que caracterizou desta forma a homossexualidade?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Embora muitos tentem negá-lo, a homossexualidade não é um facto do século XX. Pelo contrário, sempre esteve presente ao longo da História. Basta focarmo-nos na Grécia Antiga, onde era banal o que hoje em dia é tabu! Mas a História é assim: tem períodos de grande evolução, e outros de uma incrível regressão!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Sempre fui educada para aceitar as pessoas como são. Não é preciso gostar, basta aceitar, ficando depois ao nosso critério relacionarmo-nos ou não com determinadas personagens. É no entanto impossível ficar indiferente a certas atitudes prepotentes e narcisistas dos auto-intitulados Senhores (vulgos &lt;em&gt;machões&lt;/em&gt;) e Senhoras da nossa sociedade de brandos costumes, que se gaba de ser política e socialmente correcta. É que este país tem apenas um verniz, um frágil disfarce para lidar com a homossexualidade. A tolerância pública - e em presença - quer dar ares de modernidade (e às vezes consegue), mas as conversas pelas costas denunciam a chacota, o gozo e o desrespeito com recurso ao uso de jargões clássicos. Os sinais da tolerância podem ser tão discriminatórios...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Adoro as pessoas que dizem "eu até tenho um amigo gay", como se isso quisesse dizer que são modernas. Como se isso mostrasse que são bondosas e condescendentes. Como se a discriminação que existe não passasse por elas, porque, afinal, elas nem discriminam ninguém. Faz lembrar aquela do "eu não sou racista, até tenho amigos pretos".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Há dias estava a ler uma crónica e achei este excerto deveras interessante:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um desses &lt;/em&gt;gays&lt;em&gt;, que tem um filho da idade do meu, veio cá à festa de anos dele. Mas pedi-lhe que não trouxesse o namorado. Estavam cá os meus sogros e, já se sabe, não percebem ainda muito bem estas coisas. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;O Mundo está cheio de sogros. É por causa deles que as coisas não andam para a frente! E se o seu sogro fosse gay? Aí seria a nora ou o genro a fazer o papel de sogro...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Já é tempo de pensar neste assunto de uma forma diferente, sem tabus, encarando-o como uma realidade, e não como um problema ou disfunção!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-7420071761356654915?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7420071761356654915/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=7420071761356654915&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7420071761356654915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/7420071761356654915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/hetero-homo-bi-e-ento.html' title='Hetero, homo, bi... e então?'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SKmJj_9YcaI/AAAAAAAAACk/r4eeMykFWOM/s72-c/37183.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-4463141363572475150</id><published>2008-08-06T13:30:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T15:03:57.737+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><title type='text'>I See the World Through You...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yczucdUoayY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yczucdUoayY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;

&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Gostei! Gostei de te ver cantar para nós, para mim... As letras dizem tudo e a melodia é linda... Esta música diz tudo! &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Para repetir, sem dúvida&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;=)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-4463141363572475150?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4463141363572475150/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=4463141363572475150&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4463141363572475150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4463141363572475150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-see-world-through-you.html' title='I See the World Through You...'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-9008477221000903038</id><published>2008-08-04T13:25:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T16:01:52.309Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Sabes?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJb7mzgKuCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/zAuN8BgZFXk/s1600-h/untitledg.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230644661316139042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJb7mzgKuCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/zAuN8BgZFXk/s320/untitledg.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;

&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;

&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Sabes, a vida dá voltas, surpreende-nos, muda-nos quando menos esperamos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Julgamos que sabemos quem somos, o que procuramos, o que queremos. Se nos vemos despidos de nós próprios somos apenas vultos que vagueiam, sem porto seguro, sem uma âncora que nos prenda ao mundo.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Vivemos como se a vida fosse eterna, dia após dia fazemos empiricamente o que nos ensinaram que deviamos fazer, sem ousar nem inovar. Não fazemos apenas o que sentimos que devemos fazer. Somos manipulados pela sociedade, a mesma sociedade preconceituosa e xenófoba que nos vira as costas ao mínimo erro, ao mínimo acto estritamente humano.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Tento acreditar que isto não é assim tão óbvio, tão generalista, mas por vezes é difícil...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sabes, dás-me força para continuar a ser eu própria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sabes, eu tento ser eu própria. E tu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-9008477221000903038?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/9008477221000903038/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=9008477221000903038&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/9008477221000903038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/9008477221000903038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/sabes.html' title='Sabes?'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJb7mzgKuCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/zAuN8BgZFXk/s72-c/untitledg.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-4555969658148044836</id><published>2008-08-03T22:18:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T16:09:20.866Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='música'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspecção'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cinema'/><title type='text'>Feast of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0im1JIguyZo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0im1JIguyZo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;



&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Um dos filmes mais tristes que já vi... Mas um dos meus preferidos! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Fala da vida, de pessoas. Fala de amor! De todos os tipos de amor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;E a música é espectacular! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Espero que gostem...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&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/5310092992033003637-4555969658148044836?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4555969658148044836/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=4555969658148044836&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4555969658148044836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/4555969658148044836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/feast-of-love.html' title='Feast of Love'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-6579202444556312404</id><published>2008-08-01T00:37:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T00:45:03.663+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Divagando...'/><title type='text'>Tempo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJJM1yoqnVI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CyDpGSHBd90/s1600-h/salvador_dali.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229326604339682642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJJM1yoqnVI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CyDpGSHBd90/s320/salvador_dali.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;O tempo é o que fazemos dele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Breves instantes, alguns minutos, horas intermináveis, perdemos a noção dos dias, dos anos, da vida. Vemos uma bateria de emoções desfilar perante nós enquanto espectadores, enquanto meros peões. E depois, o que fica? Ficam as memórias. A lembrança do que fizemos e do que deixámos por fazer. A satisfação ou mesmo a frustração. A ideia de que poderiamos ter feito mais e melhor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Despertar é difícil, mas quando o fazemos sabe tão bem...! Basta que seja na altura certa, no tempo certo! Basta querermos! Basta termos tempo! Ainda temos tempo!&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5310092992033003637-6579202444556312404?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/6579202444556312404/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=6579202444556312404&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6579202444556312404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/6579202444556312404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/08/o-tempo-o-que-fazemos-dele.html' title='Tempo'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJJM1yoqnVI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CyDpGSHBd90/s72-c/salvador_dali.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5310092992033003637.post-5469665644886990468</id><published>2008-07-31T19:30:00.011+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T20:35:01.460+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mundo'/><title type='text'>Save Darfur</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJIH-Yl4gCI/AAAAAAAAABg/ExEozD7eQFw/s1600-h/darfur.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229250885665194018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJIH-Yl4gCI/AAAAAAAAABg/ExEozD7eQFw/s320/darfur.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#006600;"&gt;Darfur... Doi ver tanto egoísmo e tanta presunção quando há pessoas a morrer com falta de vacinas, com falta de comida, com falta de atenção... É inadmissível esta situação. E é incrivel pensar que há pessoas que vêem este inferno e permanecem imutáveis, indiferentes... Há quem precise de nós de uma forma que não conseguimos sequer imaginar... Dá que pensar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://videos.sapo.pt/3R9EqbtZA9yeeCo40dJq"&gt;http://videos.sapo.pt/3R9EqbtZA9yeeCo40dJq&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/5310092992033003637-5469665644886990468?l=pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5469665644886990468/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5310092992033003637&amp;postID=5469665644886990468&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5469665644886990468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5310092992033003637/posts/default/5469665644886990468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedacosmomentos.blogspot.com/2008/07/save-darfur.html' title='Save Darfur'/><author><name>Marta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18208627153875948980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/TEHPC80LDzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/t6_uWphOppA/S220/sdgf.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_h5FH7XhL-YA/SJIH-Yl4gCI/AAAAAAAAABg/ExEozD7eQFw/s72-c/darfur.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
