tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42063249925768852892024-03-23T12:31:10.174+00:00Cartas do Mercado da SaudadeBicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-91307438464226284882024-02-25T19:14:00.000+00:002024-02-25T19:14:12.697+00:00 20.08.2009<p><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSWKesYfw5zHvdxUCW04rA5mIDNQaO9HnWWUpZCHdP5YP4W_OmpIMW7CJFu3JtMXULAOhvqN5pouyHBEVXil88J9Be17Ux21iX2t5r2rMt0Zkr1pbNyi9ducga6LvS7PIY_yQcFPV0Jlr6KIKt_w8Uiiu4dl77U9q19y3oeMG738f6Kb8RC2YW8rPqAnA/s400/11705243_1111560988857401_1070734454060306207_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="400" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSWKesYfw5zHvdxUCW04rA5mIDNQaO9HnWWUpZCHdP5YP4W_OmpIMW7CJFu3JtMXULAOhvqN5pouyHBEVXil88J9Be17Ux21iX2t5r2rMt0Zkr1pbNyi9ducga6LvS7PIY_yQcFPV0Jlr6KIKt_w8Uiiu4dl77U9q19y3oeMG738f6Kb8RC2YW8rPqAnA/w400-h315/11705243_1111560988857401_1070734454060306207_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></b></div><b><br /></b><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i>Vamos repetir os erros do Passado?</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i>É <span> que foram tão divertidos! Não me digas que não gostaste?</span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sc4I9MweBy4" width="320" youtube-src-id="sc4I9MweBy4"></iframe></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-57590328390983021882024-01-14T19:00:00.001+00:002024-01-14T19:07:03.011+00:00Não me parece. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6G9_BwoqOQGoCrabuIqnQBHe2FfEngCIjL4Dhsdc-bQa2dN0kod1V_Y_vWHteYOTbbxMOVRnwbq39fRjU77xxpbamNiyy1b0NCyBO805mHsU-et8NQskplfRKeTO2ly3k02_cInbOYJie/s1600/tumblr_lq3vviYPOr1qm4t6bo1_500.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6G9_BwoqOQGoCrabuIqnQBHe2FfEngCIjL4Dhsdc-bQa2dN0kod1V_Y_vWHteYOTbbxMOVRnwbq39fRjU77xxpbamNiyy1b0NCyBO805mHsU-et8NQskplfRKeTO2ly3k02_cInbOYJie/s400/tumblr_lq3vviYPOr1qm4t6bo1_500.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>"O Momento da Verdade"</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Teve a ver com um homem. No meu caso, essa frase pode ser seguida da adenda "... claro". (...) Já viram? Viram só o que eu fiz? Eu própria não acredito. Pedi-lhe desculpa! Disse ao estúpido do gravador de chamadas dele que estava magoada! E eu não estava magoada, estava furiosa! Mas, sabem, ele era giraço, e eu pensei que podia, talvez, gostar <u>mesmo</u> dele, e que ele não me trataria mal se soubesse a Rapariga Simpática que eu era. </span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Vamos, digam todas: "Não é possível!"</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">SIM! E quando me apercebi o que tinha feito, decidi ali e naquele instante, que havia chegado o momento da Toximpatia. Tinha chegado o momento de seguir o exemplo das Cabras deste mundo. A partir daí eu iria, como a minha mãe diria, copiar uma página do livro delas. </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Só que não havia livro.</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Até agora."</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>in</b> <i>Getting in touch with your Inner Bitch,</i> de Elizabeth Hilts</span><br />
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-13124421818597527272024-01-04T23:13:00.001+00:002024-01-04T23:13:07.847+00:00I go to my high lonesome place<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGzvC94Frm8lJV9SDLBuS7wLu6FjdSULhdv9AJUHQFS26iRcQTx5xRW6yhrC-06vOpOTJVfAjUS4-om7RM78-kbILFyJNjAXNEF4UY3U_HFG5TPAwxKCCTPw7czARNpP076_33t4buhq3wvVX_28OXZ_aTcbg_vsjDEIzozWK9IADvEeJ1XqZaAOFS6u5/s900/tumblr_ae907478143bb406fc8d86e85ff4d409_707ce794_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="900" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGzvC94Frm8lJV9SDLBuS7wLu6FjdSULhdv9AJUHQFS26iRcQTx5xRW6yhrC-06vOpOTJVfAjUS4-om7RM78-kbILFyJNjAXNEF4UY3U_HFG5TPAwxKCCTPw7czARNpP076_33t4buhq3wvVX_28OXZ_aTcbg_vsjDEIzozWK9IADvEeJ1XqZaAOFS6u5/w400-h249/tumblr_ae907478143bb406fc8d86e85ff4d409_707ce794_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><h3><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span color="var(--primary-text)" style="font-size: 0.9375rem; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"</span><span color="var(--primary-text)" style="font-size: 0.9375rem; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span>When I was younger, I wish someone had told me straight-up that not all adults experience “a calling”. That many of them never find particular purpose in a career. That sometimes, their job is just what pays the bills and they have to seek satisfaction and fulfillment elsewhere.
</span></span></span></h3><p></p><div><div class="x1n2onr6" id=":r554:" style="position: relative;"><div class="x1n2onr6" style="position: relative;"><div class="x9f619 x1lliihq x4uap5 xkhd6sd" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px;"><div class="x11jkl0l x182zwpg x8cjs6t x1ch86jh x80vd3b xckqwgs x1lq5wgf xgqcy7u x30kzoy x9jhf4c x13fuv20 xu3j5b3 x1q0q8m5 x26u7qi x178xt8z xm81vs4 xso031l xy80clv x6ikm8r x10wlt62" style="border-bottom-color: var(--divider); border-left-color: var(--divider); border-radius: 8px; border-right-color: var(--divider); border-style: solid; border-top-color: var(--divider); border-width: 1px; margin-left: 13px; margin-right: 13px; overflow: hidden;"><div><div><div class="xsag5q8" dir="auto" style="padding-bottom: 12px;"><div dir="auto"><div class="x1iorvi4 x1pi30zi x1swvt13 xjkvuk6" data-ad-comet-preview="message" data-ad-preview="message" style="padding: 4px 16px;"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u" style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; margin-bottom: -5px; margin-top: -5px;"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" color="var(--primary-text)" dir="auto" style="display: block; font-size: 0.9375rem; line-height: 1.3333; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Because as an adult, this pervasive notion that there exists a perfect path for everyone, that people should love what they do, and that work is meant to function as a vehicle for fulfilling a <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>person’s grand life destiny is not only inaccurate for many of us, it can be toxic.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The ideal is so ingrained that I have to remind myself constantly I’m not a failure because I don’t adore my job, and because I’m not rocking the world with my work. That is okay. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sometimes, work is just work. There isn’t always a perfect career path, magically waiting to be discovered. There might not be this THING you were born to do. Sometimes, you discover that what you really want to be when you grow up is “paid”.
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<br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3oKgGUX2wX0" width="320" youtube-src-id="3oKgGUX2wX0"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">"If I were to go away</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">Would you follow me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">To the ends of the earth</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">To show me what your love is worth</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">Or would you go and buy a car</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">Shrug your shoulders say: There you are</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">She didn't love me anyway</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: collapse;">If she had she would have stayed"</span></i></span></div></div></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><div class="x168nmei x13lgxp2 x30kzoy x9jhf4c x6ikm8r x10wlt62" data-visualcompletion="ignore-dynamic" style="border-radius: 0px 0px 8px 8px; overflow: hidden;"><div class="x1n2onr6" style="position: relative;"><div class="x6s0dn4 xi81zsa x78zum5 x6prxxf x13a6bvl xvq8zen xdj266r xktsk01 xat24cr x1d52u69 x889kno x4uap5 x1a8lsjc xkhd6sd xdppsyt" style="align-items: center; border-bottom: 1px solid var(--divider); color: var(--secondary-text); display: flex; font-size: 0.9375rem; justify-content: flex-end; line-height: 1.3333; margin: 0px 16px; padding: 10px 0px;"><div class="x6s0dn4 x78zum5 x1iyjqo2 x6ikm8r x10wlt62" style="align-items: center; background-color: #242526; color: #b0b3b8; display: flex; flex-grow: 1; overflow: hidden;"><div class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1o1ewxj x3x9cwd x1e5q0jg x13rtm0m x1n2onr6 x87ps6o x1lku1pv x1a2a7pz x1heor9g xnl1qt8 x6ikm8r x10wlt62 x1vjfegm x1lliihq" role="button" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-radius: inherit; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: inherit; cursor: pointer; list-style: none; margin: 0px; max-height: 1.3333em; outline: none; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-align: inherit; touch-action: manipulation; user-select: none; z-index: 1;" tabindex="0"><div class="x9f619 x1ja2u2z xzpqnlu x1hyvwdk xjm9jq1 x6ikm8r x10wlt62 x10l6tqk x1i1rx1s" style="box-sizing: border-box; clip-path: inset(50%); clip: rect(0px, 0px, 0px, 0px); font-family: inherit; height: 1px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; text-align: justify; width: 1px; z-index: 0;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3oKgGUX2wX0" width="320" youtube-src-id="3oKgGUX2wX0"></iframe></div><br />Todas as reações</span></div></div></div></div><div class="x1c4vz4f x2lah0s xci0xqf" style="background-color: #242526; color: #b0b3b8; flex-grow: 0; flex-shrink: 0; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; width: 7px;"></div><div class="x9f619 x1n2onr6 x1ja2u2z x78zum5 x2lah0s x1qughib x1qjc9v5 xozqiw3 x1q0g3np xykv574 xbmpl8g x4cne27 xifccgj" style="align-items: stretch; background-color: #242526; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b0b3b8; display: flex; flex-flow: row; flex-shrink: 0; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; justify-content: space-between; margin: -6px; position: relative; z-index: 0;"></div></div></div></div></div>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-57897922741225128072023-12-28T01:52:00.004+00:002023-12-28T01:52:53.948+00:0027.12.2021<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5E9Vv4r1XnicZnwT4FmFI-xnAR9-XQAkNMdtHv3r8vcxLN-El5rO47ISc0LGKUEZIVUqX2du4bAF__X_fEZKk4FFnrHhuFbCrvoiHWqLvhUFivANG9SlHYr9aV8cPxACXfJh4NwmWWMJdixHSA7oyXFpX6KnlIrp6-Z68piJ3XEt0yqM-Iv74IYvOyuE8/s564/72038381517d998ae25d9c606016c552.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="564" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5E9Vv4r1XnicZnwT4FmFI-xnAR9-XQAkNMdtHv3r8vcxLN-El5rO47ISc0LGKUEZIVUqX2du4bAF__X_fEZKk4FFnrHhuFbCrvoiHWqLvhUFivANG9SlHYr9aV8cPxACXfJh4NwmWWMJdixHSA7oyXFpX6KnlIrp6-Z68piJ3XEt0yqM-Iv74IYvOyuE8/s320/72038381517d998ae25d9c606016c552.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /> A noite fatídica, em que me lembrei de seguir os impulsos, dar asas ao desejo e ver o que poderia dali sair. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Se eu pudesse voltar atrás, se eu pudesse!</span> São estes os amargos arrependimentos que me perseguem. De hoje para a frente, tive direito a um espetáculo digno de novela mexicana, com paixão fervilhante à mistura, lágrimas pelo meio, gargalhadas pela noite dentro, conversas que duravam horas e horas , silêncios mudos e gritos de alegria, mentiras, enfim, eu tive de tudo. Do bom e do mau, do normal e do estranho, do que nunca mais quero experimentar e do que deixou(-me) saudades, <strike>(muitas)</strike>. Não sei se me considero felizarda por, ao menos, ter tido a (falsa) impressão de que alguém poderia retribuir a magnitude dos meus sentimentos, mas vejo agora que não é bem assim. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> As pessoas, os humanos, são estes bichos muito bizarros. Então quando toca a sentimentos e emoções, ui, a coisa piora mesmo. Em termos de relações, de compromissos, após as minhas experiências aliada com anos de observação, chego à <b>(contraditória) </b>conclusão de que (isto é muito simples): Se gostas de alguém, não o demonstres. Há que ser princesa enclausurada no cimo da torre, e há que fazer o príncipe ir acima buscar-te. Que importa que tu tenhas um elevador ao teu lado e a porta de entrada estar destrancada? Ele TEM de subir a torre e salvar-te do dragão. E talvez tenha sido (um) dos meus erros, quem sabe? Eu, que lhe quis poupar o trabalho de subir a pedra, abri-lhe a porta mal o vi, e dei-lhe as boas-vindas de braços abertos e sorriso no rosto. Não que isso importe agora. Já acabou, e só eu me lembro do dia. Ele não se lembra. Hoje é mais um dia para ele ser feliz com outra princesa.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> <i> E é isso. Hoje é mais um dia. </i></span>Vou ficar por aqui, agora que regressei, a fazer o mesmo de sempre, a pensar e a contemplar, a ler de janela aberta para o vento entrar e mudar a página, a acariciar as telas com os pincéis. Sairei (não àquela hora) e vou-me distrair. Manjarei e beberei em companhia, cantarei em multidão, sorrirei com os demais. E no regresso, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hei-de passar por aquela rua, só para olhar para aquela casa abandonada. <i>Ela sabe que dia é hoje.</i></span></div>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1Largo do Barão de São Martinho 17, 4700-328 Braga, Portugal41.5508355 -8.4235518-14.958514118804842 -78.7360518 90 61.8889482tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-44323990447758880392023-11-29T23:09:00.003+00:002023-12-29T00:41:29.119+00:00An enemy is just a friend I haven't worn down <p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpRzpdxNyaLYMdxp1rvGQqM64GqH6OPc4R5_KAt3rXOUYwMVE16gZX871tjA8CBjVskaLoudQr7tXWROnxexY9BUf9wAlTvzkJdHjTnv818NKD3kbjo07vjm2kJ5QbdOvWvUIoqsNpAfzY0gdijy3IpR_EW4IUOUO0V21pFcEGhUNNjhnEv5UnwDMVhgt/s1001/c56366082dc62462917fd38d22ec3656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpRzpdxNyaLYMdxp1rvGQqM64GqH6OPc4R5_KAt3rXOUYwMVE16gZX871tjA8CBjVskaLoudQr7tXWROnxexY9BUf9wAlTvzkJdHjTnv818NKD3kbjo07vjm2kJ5QbdOvWvUIoqsNpAfzY0gdijy3IpR_EW4IUOUO0V21pFcEGhUNNjhnEv5UnwDMVhgt/w225-h400/c56366082dc62462917fd38d22ec3656.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"<i>No meu coração,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Há vales, montanhas e chuvas tropicais,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Há acetinados e veludos... crepúsculo e aurora,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>cordilheiras e rios,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>banquetes banais,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>miocárdio, fluxos e caixas de Pandora.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Há valsas invisíveis e tratados de paz,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>travos a campo e escarpas imensas.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Há um coreto circulas, uma banda audaz...</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>torturas, amores e mortes suspensas.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Há gretas invejáveis, pangeas conversos,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>declives e abismos e um parque de diversão,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>há uma eterna bruma, nevoeiros diversos...</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>e há dor... dor sem rosto ... no meu coração</i>."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><u>Pedro Mota Rodrigues </u></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oaddLBnHJSA" width="320" youtube-src-id="oaddLBnHJSA"></iframe></span></div><br /><p></p>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com14730-340 Parada de Gatim, Portugal41.6238406 -8.524509413.313606763821156 -43.6807594 69.934074436178847 26.6317406tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-76742526923904388532023-05-23T22:30:00.003+01:002024-01-04T23:24:40.451+00:00"I'm going to be friends with you" is both a promise and a threat <p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="background-color: white;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ107q6Jl-Gb5UcDYrLCGwO6HgVGRBxOpi4bXuOKiW8Ifkid0f4OrYgARJW48r226-YpLE9W1nqfT2HRLowtgU94bbGL1qJ-eaFN0Zhyphenhyphen73muQaqJuPIzXVtsvJUvRKRwuF84KvbWtz6Sk1ntvy-mZx2tKdDjJQFGKrkVofFQJZlBuW6-EmRFWfCM4Kjm55/s720/transferir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="720" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ107q6Jl-Gb5UcDYrLCGwO6HgVGRBxOpi4bXuOKiW8Ifkid0f4OrYgARJW48r226-YpLE9W1nqfT2HRLowtgU94bbGL1qJ-eaFN0Zhyphenhyphen73muQaqJuPIzXVtsvJUvRKRwuF84KvbWtz6Sk1ntvy-mZx2tKdDjJQFGKrkVofFQJZlBuW6-EmRFWfCM4Kjm55/w400-h378/transferir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Talvez um dia faça o mesmo. Num futuro, nem tão perto, nem tão longe, num dia (não tão) igual aos outros, eu me sente à secretária e escreve a minha história, e daqueles que me mancharam e cortaram de modo tão profundo que duvido que algum dia volte à ingenuidade dos velhos dias. Talvez seja assim mesmo, crescer. Saber que a ferida não se curará, não tão cedo, pelo menos, e se calhar, nunca me curarei, e ficarei </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">perpetuamente</span><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"> deste modo, com medo. Medo das pessoas, medo de amar, medo de mim mesmo. Mas só o tempo me poderá esclarecer esse tópico. Até lá, dança-se o tango, e não se confia nos seres da noite.</span></span></div><span style="background-color: white;"><span><span style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/GsPq9mzFNGY" width="320" youtube-src-id="GsPq9mzFNGY"></iframe></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;">"From throwing clothes across the floor</span></i></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;">To teeth and claws and slamming doors at you</span></i></div><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">If this is all we're living for</span></i></div></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">Why are we doing it, doing it, doing it anymore?</span></i></div></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">I used to recognize myself</span></i></div></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">It's funny how reflections change</span></i></div></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">When we're becoming something else</span></i></div></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">I think it's time to walk away"</span></i></div></span></i></span></span></span></div></span></span></span>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1Braga, 4700-208 Braga, Portugal41.54787 -8.4346415.507986816843612 -43.590889999999987 67.5877531831564 26.721609999999984tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-57378734925334173632023-04-19T21:30:00.003+01:002024-01-04T23:29:55.726+00:00“the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there”<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhos41RNQ7rZPLTkkrlBdzIoUBXRStcNPQ7cYVf-BrCfJwOYu8b-k1pspbxh_iO0_RYVFh9_5puYCRQIon9CPIEUlLt4dazmdCKI8EMIz6CBcIw1ouokfWyg2qV_0m9S9Lb7F89Zm32IfBxiNFer2PHjGwhFxFq49izbO7bDX4otBNF7uOAYLXUVGzKXGq/s736/_Cantinho%20dos%20Sentimentos_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhos41RNQ7rZPLTkkrlBdzIoUBXRStcNPQ7cYVf-BrCfJwOYu8b-k1pspbxh_iO0_RYVFh9_5puYCRQIon9CPIEUlLt4dazmdCKI8EMIz6CBcIw1ouokfWyg2qV_0m9S9Lb7F89Zm32IfBxiNFer2PHjGwhFxFq49izbO7bDX4otBNF7uOAYLXUVGzKXGq/w400-h400/_Cantinho%20dos%20Sentimentos_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"> As viagens que realizo sempre tiveram uma razão especial, um motivo de ser, para além da curiosidade humana em querer saber do desconhecido. Este último ano não poderia ser diferente. Fui para a outra ponta do país na ânsia de descobrir respostas, de saber o porquê. O porquê de tudo ter descambado e só eu me empenho em limpar os restos das paredes. O porquê de isto tudo ter ocorrido do modo como ocorreu, quando poderia ter sido tão diferente. A razão pela qual eu sinto a vida, eu vivo-a da maneira que sinto, com o palato agridoce. Ele(s) poderia(m) ter sido diferente(s). <i>It didn't have to go the way it did</i>. O tempo, o espaço, o destino poderia ter estado em meu favor. Mas não esteve, e as peças caíram exactamente como tinham de cair, e decoram este cenário de um modo mágico, como só o amor sabe entreter-se nas horas murchas do dia.</span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;"><i>Talvez não hajam finais felizes. Talvez hajam, simplesmente, finais.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TOIF7KwXetU" width="320" youtube-src-id="TOIF7KwXetU"></iframe><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">"Maybe I could be your only prize</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">And maybe you would light it white</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">Even when I'm falling back</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">You'd still believe I tried</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">And maybe we could be a symphony</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">And maybe I could learn to play</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">You could write that story</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.5; text-align: right;">While I just ride the wave"</span></i></span></div><p></p></h1>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com2Braga, 4700-208 Braga, Portugal41.54787 -8.4346413.237636163821158 -43.59089 69.858103836178856 26.72161tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-14068741239197122023-04-18T21:04:00.002+01:002024-01-04T23:37:28.135+00:00O Diário da Tua Ausência <p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1e1915; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"></span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJC1UKrET459U3eSXSCdNea6-0Vb8RyZQsywF6VPaLK5l_Cc1fU7xBHEr2I7f7Di0joOGsUPGv2U0vfvxCu4gW3MEPhYz5KL_qfq7b6b-KmbjIMgHPYYC9V3gT_11WCIWfNRe5ru9SqQLo7WJIE0yMUBQ1OSx8bB-ZJErCEJK7Yu8gxBnXlqhRyO2DcMLE/s600/Margarida%20Rebelo%20Pinto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJC1UKrET459U3eSXSCdNea6-0Vb8RyZQsywF6VPaLK5l_Cc1fU7xBHEr2I7f7Di0joOGsUPGv2U0vfvxCu4gW3MEPhYz5KL_qfq7b6b-KmbjIMgHPYYC9V3gT_11WCIWfNRe5ru9SqQLo7WJIE0yMUBQ1OSx8bB-ZJErCEJK7Yu8gxBnXlqhRyO2DcMLE/w640-h336/Margarida%20Rebelo%20Pinto.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1e1915; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;">"Não escolhemos quem amamos nem escolhemos quando deixamos de amar.</span></span></div></blockquote><blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #1e1915; font-size: 16px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;">Não importa que existam quilómetros imensos a separar-nos, nem importa que no fundo saibamos que a história não vai dar certo; quando amamos não somos capazes de desistir, não somos sequer capazes de aceitar que talvez o amor não vença tudo; e sofremos e choramos e juramos esquecer e depois ele volta e nós perdoamos tudo e fazemos mais juras de amor e prometemos a nós mesmas não deixar que o medo dele impeça que o nosso amor se transforme numa realidade feliz e eterna ...</span></div></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #1e1915; font-size: 16px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;">Mas a verdade é que às vezes gostar não chega, é que às vezes o medo e a distância são mais fortes do que a nossa determinação e a nossa vontade de fazer dar certo, a verdade é que por vezes o amor não vence e nós choramos, choramos como se não houvesse amanhã porque no nosso coração o amanhã deixou de existir e tudo porque aquela pessoa não estará lá." </span></div></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Margarida Rebelo Pinto <br /><br /><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ouuRsRz8syM" width="320" youtube-src-id="ouuRsRz8syM"></iframe></div><br /></span></div><p></p><span face=""Proxima Nova", Montserrat, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1e1915; font-size: 16px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></span><p></p>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com2Braga, 4700-208 Braga, Portugal41.54787 -8.4346413.237636163821158 -43.59089 69.858103836178856 26.72161tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-26218886493201314262023-04-17T19:30:00.016+01:002024-01-04T23:44:18.263+00:00“I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvdh3v10EuT6vFu8jhHNHLtXCwJRsWWSbCTq88yRecDFxYgR_9wa0cSvRb-QlYJRFOjr2CPhdjtfVBtQtQ9Qa0pCNg2dFSVIeImoxMT15N0TfucxWEic61Ce5y3kMMeUbFL4_LY72p2hiYIEwCXTH8H3ywjjjInTOUVnAoNz2xccRgCmArS-Wz2u98QIH/s838/Despertar%20versus%20iluminar_%20Foto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="736" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvdh3v10EuT6vFu8jhHNHLtXCwJRsWWSbCTq88yRecDFxYgR_9wa0cSvRb-QlYJRFOjr2CPhdjtfVBtQtQ9Qa0pCNg2dFSVIeImoxMT15N0TfucxWEic61Ce5y3kMMeUbFL4_LY72p2hiYIEwCXTH8H3ywjjjInTOUVnAoNz2xccRgCmArS-Wz2u98QIH/w562-h640/Despertar%20versus%20iluminar_%20Foto.jpg" width="562" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ele foi-se embora hoje. Para sempre. E acaba a história, o meu texto, hoje.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eu não sei como me sinto. E isso assusta-me. Tornei-me triste desde que ele me deixou; isso não mudou. E estou zangada, com ele, pelas suas mentiras, e comigo (principalmente), por nelas ter acredito. Mas há mais qualquer coisa, que eu não sei o nome. Isto que sinto, é muita tristeza acumulada, pelo rumo que a minha vida tomou, e pelo futuro que me amedronta. É raiva, contra as pessoas deste mundo, contra o destino, que me apresentou alguém que era tão maravilhoso, e depois tornou-se igual aos restantes. Mas sinto dores que não reconheço, carrego o peso do que não me pertence, e<b> já </b>não verto as minhas lágrimas. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Não me consegui despedir dele. Não lhe disse "<i>adeus</i>". Fiquei com as palavras que nunca lhe poderei dizer presas na garganta. Não sei se isso é bom ou mau. E esta confusão, este meu não saber definir-me, nem criar um novo rumo, assusta-me imenso.<br /><br />Há um vazio que se coloca na minha frente e eu não compreendo o que é suposto eu fazer agora. Receio que todos os caminhos que se apresentam no meu futuro sejam meros atalhos para chegar até ele, para sofrer, uma vez mais. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Pois amores destes já não se fazem, e quiçá, ainda bem que não. <br /><br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KsZ6tROaVOQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="KsZ6tROaVOQ"></iframe><br /><br /></div><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">"But we were something, don't you think so?</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">And if my wishes came true</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">It would've been you</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">In my defense, I have none</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">For never leaving well enough alone</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">But it would've been fun</div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">If you would've been the one"</div></span></span></i></div>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1Braga, 4700-208 Braga, Portugal41.54787 -8.4346413.237636163821158 -43.59089 69.858103836178856 26.72161tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-75569698776208283952023-04-10T22:30:00.010+01:002024-01-04T23:51:01.642+00:00Ist alles so leer ohne dich. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9UrgaoDogA-i6j2zqAAriRZjcb3H1G1QD8aJY2TiBU0R8vY3m0U7onZMitYi1Xc-isr7OEQOH_65gwopvcj78koqAiMKKXFvCiilZt4S2jdP1a58X9o5q9QmQ7lhrKrh7W3cmBFLOV4naQgbvBqHiyh7JFxFGihb3loDFNvajWatRhG7zJRDpDES4vc-/s736/%F0%9D%95%AD%F0%9D%96%94%F0%9D%96%9E%20%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%94%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%94_%20Foto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9UrgaoDogA-i6j2zqAAriRZjcb3H1G1QD8aJY2TiBU0R8vY3m0U7onZMitYi1Xc-isr7OEQOH_65gwopvcj78koqAiMKKXFvCiilZt4S2jdP1a58X9o5q9QmQ7lhrKrh7W3cmBFLOV4naQgbvBqHiyh7JFxFGihb3loDFNvajWatRhG7zJRDpDES4vc-/w640-h640/%F0%9D%95%AD%F0%9D%96%94%F0%9D%96%9E%20%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%94%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%89%F0%9D%96%94_%20Foto.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;">Por vezes, sinto que estou numa terra estrangeira, que à muito deixou de ser minha. Num teclado sem acentos, confronto a minha língua nativa com a tradiçã0. Por mais que queira mudar, perdi os acentos.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div><div style="display: inline; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Se calhar, ainda é muito cedo para voltar a escrever. Reflicto e pergunto-me se não será melhor esperar, deixar o vinho descansar o tempo necessário para se tornar no néctar dos deuses. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">But who am I kidding?</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> Sempre me rebelei contra os relógios, essa invenção maligna dos Homens. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">There is no time, only clocks</span>. </span></i></span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="display: inline; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="display: inline; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;">Eu só tenho o agora, o presente. E é um presente que abro no silêncio da noite, naqueles breves minutos em que choveu tão suavemente, quase ninguém ouviu, essa chuva clandestina. Enclausurada em paredes de rosas brancas, deixei algo atrás, muito para além da inocência da ilha que fugi. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;"> Se calhar, ainda não estou pronta para voltar a escrever. Talvez, acreditando nos versos da outra canção, eu só sei ser quando estou apaixonada. E nesta terra tão vasta, tão cheia de pessoas bem-educadas nos supermercados, não antevejo perspectivas de tal. E sim, há dias que acredito nas irmãs M&M, de como seria simpático ter um " alguém". Dias como hoje, dia abafado, de nevoeiro que se abateu na cidade e trouxe a melancolia europeia para me fazer companhia. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;"> Sinto-me melhor. Ou talvez me iluda, eu nao sei. Nunca deixei o estado hipnótico da <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">confusão emocional</span></span>. Deixei de me conhecer quando abri o coração a uma <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">sombra fria,</span> que me sugou a energia e a vontade de lutar. Fiquei oca cá dentro. Passiva e sombria, adoptei o cinzento como manta maternal. Começo a acreditar que essa paixão doentia foi um acto de rebelião do meu coração, sempre tão ingênuo. Só que, desta vez, o castigo é perpétuo (essa palavra que ele despreza, como me despreza a mim).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Descobri uma caixinha de musica, com a típica bailarina que rodopia quando a abrimos, e lá dentro, coloquei o que restava de mim. Coloquei aquele meu sorriso sincero, o olhar fraternal, as mãos prontas para auxiliar o próximo. Esta lá' encerrado, e afundei-o no Horse Pond Lake, o lago assombrado. Reza a lenda que num Inverno (visto que o lago congela devido as baixas temperaturas)</span><span class="Apple-style-span">,à muito tempo atrás, ia um senhor numa carruagem a carregar um piano, para o levar para o outro lado do lago, sob o gelo, gelo esse que sucumbiu com o peso, fazendo com que o senhor, o cavalo e a carga se afundassem no lago. Faleceram os envolvidos, e nunca foi possível recuperar o piano. Mas quem vai para o lago, quando o vento estival não sopra, e não passam carros na estrada, consegue ouvir o piano a tocar. Ainda se ouve o piano a tocar, depois de todo o tempo que passou. E agora, o que restou de mim pertence ao fundo do lago - se tal existisse.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sRxrwjOtIag" width="320" youtube-src-id="sRxrwjOtIag"></iframe></div><i><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">"And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue?</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>Just between us, did the love affair maim you too? </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>'Cause in this city's barren cold</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>I still remember the the first fall of snow</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>And how it glissned when it fell,</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>I rememeber it all too well</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well?</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>Just between us, do you remember it all too well?</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><i>Just between us, I remember it all ..."</i></span></div></div>
Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1Braga, Portugal41.5454486 -8.426506999999999113.235214763821155 -43.582757 69.855682436178853 26.729743tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-91931113824307655282023-04-09T20:30:00.002+01:002024-01-05T00:00:15.089+00:00"I have so much of you in my heart." John Keats<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9a40uzqamPTIcPXRKXeuQXwSQN5xKJE0mvRMhZu-r5QtNtuSpjLXHTWwj_x5arAshR1i-pIt-y_kOcneJRkhLElJUMow9a5-dKBl8D6y0NPfN7D_L-tU0mv8_fWeByqilCD8X2PU6KyPwozSSTbQz3AUG0zIqQUzgGiYd0qmWGUYFVR9Aw2KaiKDNCIU/s500/sskeptical.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="500" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9a40uzqamPTIcPXRKXeuQXwSQN5xKJE0mvRMhZu-r5QtNtuSpjLXHTWwj_x5arAshR1i-pIt-y_kOcneJRkhLElJUMow9a5-dKBl8D6y0NPfN7D_L-tU0mv8_fWeByqilCD8X2PU6KyPwozSSTbQz3AUG0zIqQUzgGiYd0qmWGUYFVR9Aw2KaiKDNCIU/w400-h399/sskeptical.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 15px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; line-height: 15px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; line-height: 15px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Saudade</span></b> (a-u ou au)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; border-spacing: 2px; font-style: italic; line-height: 15px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; font-style: italic;" /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-spacing: 2px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(latim <i>solitas, -atis</i>, solidão)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; padding-left: 10px; text-align: justify;" title="substantivo feminino">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">s. f.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; padding-left: 12px; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">1. <span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">Lembrança grata de pessoa ausente ou de alguma coisa de que alguém se vê privado.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; padding-left: 12px; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">2. <span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">Pesar, mágoa que essa privação causa.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">3. <span title="Botânica"><i><dominio>Bot.</dominio> </i></span><span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">Planta dipsacácea.</span> = <span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">suspiro</span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; padding-left: 12px; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">4. <span title="Botânica"><i><dominio>Bot.</dominio> </i></span><span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">Nome de várias espécies de plantas com flores de cores variadas.</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-style: italic;"></span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-style: italic;" />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-style: italic;"><b></b></span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-style: italic;" />
<div style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><subentrada><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Saudades</span></subentrada></b></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><subentrada><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></subentrada></b></span></b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; padding-left: 10px; text-align: justify;" title="substantivo feminino plural">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">s. f. pl.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">5. <span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">Boas lembranças ou recordações (ex.: <i>a antiga chefe não deixou saudades</i>).</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">6. <span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição">Cumprimentos a alguém (ex.: <i>manda-lhe saudades minhas</i>).</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="cursor: pointer;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição"><br /></span></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/NsQ18V0leTs/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NsQ18V0leTs?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Não sobra mais nada</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Além de nós dois aqui na minha cabeça</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Como queres que eu te esqueça assim</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
E eu já nem sei se te quero de volta</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="cursor: pointer; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;" title="Duplo clique para ver definição"></span></i></span><br />
<div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="color: #222222; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.58; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Mas quando o sol se põe e o vento fecha a porta</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Ainda te sinto tão minha, sim</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Quando ligo a rádio é o nosso som que toca</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
São tantas lembranças que me põem a andar às voltas</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Era tão bom quando estavas aqui"</div>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-42264934210401675262023-03-28T03:00:00.031+01:002024-01-05T00:05:57.180+00:00Happy days.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cG6tqWN30TdQpntw98JDJ_u5lTleXkelnAd7Da7USySG2qAUWX35fZEE-HfTF-5l9mlTIhEMOHdqf9lYRbbmvSh-eE6qlURsOYWLGUERwEA9a6LBuVqFbydZ2cOocU2rYyN19NietrClqZL_pOq_lDFIsl4j6Zt6Va2_PvImiRgozIfryhHehzt2RXY5/s557/yolovscoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="557" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cG6tqWN30TdQpntw98JDJ_u5lTleXkelnAd7Da7USySG2qAUWX35fZEE-HfTF-5l9mlTIhEMOHdqf9lYRbbmvSh-eE6qlURsOYWLGUERwEA9a6LBuVqFbydZ2cOocU2rYyN19NietrClqZL_pOq_lDFIsl4j6Zt6Va2_PvImiRgozIfryhHehzt2RXY5/w640-h640/yolovscoo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather;">Mas quase que já não me recordo da sua face. E odeio vê-la em vídeos ao lado da<strike> escolhida</strike>. Sinto-me constantemente bombardeada por detalhes, tontos detalhes, que me fazem lembrar quem ele era, e de todo o vasto que ele era para mim<em>.</em> Até parece que os outros gostam do espetáculo, de ver como me recuo para a minha concha quando falam sobre ele, quando pronunciam o seu nome, quando querem falar sobre ele. Parece que apreciam a subtil arte do meu olhar que se apaga, do sorriso que fecha, e do meu recolhimento para a cave de memórias.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather;">Não tenho a certeza de como apelidar os meus sentimentos neste momento. É aquela coisa, a <strong><span style="font-size: large;">confusão emocional</span></strong>. Sei que tenho saudades do passado, mas não sei se são dele. Cheguei à conclusão que, apaixonei-me por uma fachada. Pois todos nós fomos dotados de duas caras; temos em nós o dia e a noite. Simplesmente, devemos escolher qual das facetas é que desejamos tornar públicas. E o que ocorre, na vasta maioria das pessoas com quem cruzamos na rua, é que, a faceta que elas tornam pública, que decidem mostrar ao mundo, não é a faceta que nelas domina. E depois dão-se os tristes casos de "<em>Oh, ele era tão</em> <em>bom rapaz, não sei o que aconteceu</em>" e "<em>Mas ela mudou tanto, poh, ela não era assim antes."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather;">Isto irrita-me, bastante, esta banalidade do sentimento. Estou farta de ouvir <em>"São coisas que</em> <em>acontecem, supera",</em> "<em>Move forward</em>", ... . Eu não quero avançar. Eu não deveria ser obrigada a tomar um diferente rumo de vida só porque as pessoas pensam em mim como bem descartável. Eu queria ficar, onde estou, como sou, a fazer o melhor que sei, a dar o bem de mim aos outros, e já não posso.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather;">São saudades, sim, eu compreendo. Saudades da inocência, saudades de ser uma boa pessoa. Saudades da minha antiga faceta. Porque agora, a faceta que tornei pública é que estava escondida à muito. Libertei a minha noite, e o (meu) mundo inteiro ficou às escuras.</span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span face="arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: #202124; color: #bdc1c6; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;"></span></i></div></div>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IhqqZN0H7CI" width="320" youtube-src-id="IhqqZN0H7CI"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">"The mystic light, the choir of smoke</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">The smell of wood, the pose, the joke</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">The dirty little world inside</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">That needs to come out</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">Needs to come out</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">I wanna meet a friend</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">In a bar tonight</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">The evening is long</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">If only I had that strength</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: right;">To see those people</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; font-size: 18px; text-align: right;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #9e9e9e; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.5; text-align: right;">All so lonely as me"</span></i></span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span></div>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1Braga, 4700-208 Braga, Portugal41.54787 -8.4346413.237636163821158 -43.59089 69.858103836178856 26.72161tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-13838967786260813362022-04-24T19:00:00.006+01:002024-01-05T00:10:19.557+00:00Find what you love and let it kill you.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhst_86-_HzHhTnNBx367sQPMNFEPAk31A_1T_GtJPd651c8FM6hbELDJHZBPsPoKEPyhw0iNRJf9pWQ85WPkI-lj8cZ6pVWxiOkM6kM3lfETMKxMXJ0HqlvhKyDFgCmuJJp-MYdS5Sp0aC09JYWP4i_n4kv6MJL601ZdJjPWEo6gdtG2fDdexWyyU14nb/s651/Adivinha%20Dindi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhst_86-_HzHhTnNBx367sQPMNFEPAk31A_1T_GtJPd651c8FM6hbELDJHZBPsPoKEPyhw0iNRJf9pWQ85WPkI-lj8cZ6pVWxiOkM6kM3lfETMKxMXJ0HqlvhKyDFgCmuJJp-MYdS5Sp0aC09JYWP4i_n4kv6MJL601ZdJjPWEo6gdtG2fDdexWyyU14nb/w493-h640/Adivinha%20Dindi.jpg" width="493" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Parece que as pessoas florescem na minha ausência.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Então eu mantenho-me longe. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DhCHniOZC6s" width="320" youtube-src-id="DhCHniOZC6s"></iframe></div><br /><p></p><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.58; margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: georgia;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">"And what I have I have in mind</span></i></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge">And I think about you all the time</span></i></div></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.58; margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: georgia;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">I'm feeling miles away- you think I've got it made</span></i></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge">I don't belong here</span></i></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge">I'm feeling like a candle burning at both ends</span></i></div><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge">I don't belong here"</span></i></div></span></i></span></div>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com14730-340 Parada de Gatim, Portugal41.6238406 -8.524509413.313606763821156 -43.6807594 69.934074436178847 26.6317406tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-66791799889738578782022-01-01T17:57:00.007+00:002024-01-05T00:15:20.825+00:00I may be naive, but you are heartless. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFAJOcoPdHloWXnehU6qJn_ZSV3FB5YQT7R9HBSDp6SpV3OSv2sG60K2zT6gdY5JRCaVRa2m-Vkzv1BllGtkojPx4nu_y7vdwAoui1T_d9O-qgp96iqyI_CIkKpu-LBiniJhRKNaTU7JRrhxhgzzlF6pEjTmLYMiJP2oQu9CHbp0KtcrErdvCuEDyGQk6/s540/Meus%20Devaneios__%20Foto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="540" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFAJOcoPdHloWXnehU6qJn_ZSV3FB5YQT7R9HBSDp6SpV3OSv2sG60K2zT6gdY5JRCaVRa2m-Vkzv1BllGtkojPx4nu_y7vdwAoui1T_d9O-qgp96iqyI_CIkKpu-LBiniJhRKNaTU7JRrhxhgzzlF6pEjTmLYMiJP2oQu9CHbp0KtcrErdvCuEDyGQk6/w400-h398/Meus%20Devaneios__%20Foto.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Merriweather;"><i>"Time takes it all, wether you want it or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end, there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again." (Stephen King)</i></span></span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mVAeOltYDU8" width="320" youtube-src-id="mVAeOltYDU8"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>"Eyes can't see</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">Where you're at</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">It makes me sad</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">To know you are far</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">It makes me sad</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">To know you are far</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">To know you are far"</span></i></span></div><p></p>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-69544284017484400642021-07-26T10:19:00.006+01:002024-01-05T00:24:59.449+00:00I was seeing, and it will not give. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkt_fJ6bUoYpja1a10YpD1L2I7cBt-rEocCRYr_9ZWUAMfZPdXfnSgGWwgEwHVsiqS9n5YmDmP0Z1pDiijj232WTHedhwr1QUf8dglIaV8A02nwxptRG5bb2ltdXgwPuJq7myMhVb1_Lqd6zv51OSnLE2yxHYcmBUaKbVgGJ9ZB67UzUeDNr45aHwtY6PS/s640/transferir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="640" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkt_fJ6bUoYpja1a10YpD1L2I7cBt-rEocCRYr_9ZWUAMfZPdXfnSgGWwgEwHVsiqS9n5YmDmP0Z1pDiijj232WTHedhwr1QUf8dglIaV8A02nwxptRG5bb2ltdXgwPuJq7myMhVb1_Lqd6zv51OSnLE2yxHYcmBUaKbVgGJ9ZB67UzUeDNr45aHwtY6PS/w640-h488/transferir.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">«This isn't what I want, but I'll take the high road. </span></i></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Maybe it's because I look at everything as a lesson, or because I don't want to walk around angry, or maybe it's because I finally understand. </span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, </span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">things we don't want to know but have to learn,</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> and people we can't live without but have to let go.»</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333;"><i><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UnoCI2N9nWw" width="320" youtube-src-id="UnoCI2N9nWw"></iframe></i></span></div><p></p>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-14006977878094557522021-06-28T19:21:00.007+01:002023-12-29T00:16:53.489+00:00A pause, in our usual programming.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQUqIoi2aVj8nmN-69R-bOBLEY4a8m_L6cs6-ZV2tkXt4I2PjY3VfvkzYDzMPuTT1b8OZo70-2WnOxx16s40QmRfS08gNGtRci_ZQFwOOLOckP7qUAKcsyG-qtYq9SSxx4MT6OWgqEP5D/s3968/IMG_20210606_093122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2976" data-original-width="3968" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQUqIoi2aVj8nmN-69R-bOBLEY4a8m_L6cs6-ZV2tkXt4I2PjY3VfvkzYDzMPuTT1b8OZo70-2WnOxx16s40QmRfS08gNGtRci_ZQFwOOLOckP7qUAKcsyG-qtYq9SSxx4MT6OWgqEP5D/s320/IMG_20210606_093122.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><i>Alentejo, tu tratas-me tão bem <3</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/12O5JE0_Q6Q" width="320" youtube-src-id="12O5JE0_Q6Q"></iframe></div></span></div><p></p>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com27170 Redondo, Portugal38.6469313 -7.547014110.181426057062648 -42.703264099999991 67.112436542937346 27.609235899999995tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-89875549023499961942021-05-24T16:00:00.004+01:002024-01-05T00:31:47.735+00:00Average your misery. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5LMyVU3I9bu1g9IPRSqRfysIUg6t10VjzamVhgWz5QpS5GvMhrLFgvxhvsNnIsNXMHCfFrEGHjwkP11aPPDl-RBwgib-UatyAWf1sWD9Ce4Xc8U0VyPwirplc4dd7lRb5rHvY4K6q_qcdiwQzkNrxTjzqQelsBskSHxAOcqb-dkxQZMK4VdxbVzhV_c0I/s700/Hope%20is%20a%20rainbow%20of%20thought_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5LMyVU3I9bu1g9IPRSqRfysIUg6t10VjzamVhgWz5QpS5GvMhrLFgvxhvsNnIsNXMHCfFrEGHjwkP11aPPDl-RBwgib-UatyAWf1sWD9Ce4Xc8U0VyPwirplc4dd7lRb5rHvY4K6q_qcdiwQzkNrxTjzqQelsBskSHxAOcqb-dkxQZMK4VdxbVzhV_c0I/w400-h400/Hope%20is%20a%20rainbow%20of%20thought_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /><br /><br /> <span style="font-family: georgia;">"<i>Este foi o nosso último abraço.</i></span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">quando, daqui a nada, deixares</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">o chão desta casa encostarei amorosamente </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">os lábios ao teu copo para sentir o sabor desse</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">beijo que hoje não daremos. E, então, sim</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">poderei também eu partir, </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sabendo que, afinal, o que tive da vida foi mais</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>muito mais do que mereci</i>."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Maria do Rosário Pedreira</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aLcPPQWaqyA" width="320" youtube-src-id="aLcPPQWaqyA"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">"Sometimes I wonder</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">how long before she's gone</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Nobody told me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">forgetting could be so hard</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Nobody told me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">forgetting could be so hard</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Nobody told me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">forgetting could be so hard</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Nobody told me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">forgetting could be so hard"</span></span></i></div>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-3529456653970326102021-02-23T02:43:00.004+00:002024-01-05T00:35:48.071+00:00The lover in me is tired. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span face=""arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #7c7c7c; font-size: 14.85px;">" .. Às vezes é preciso aprender a perder, a ouvir e não responder, a falar nada dizer, a esconder o que mais queremos mostrar .. e mesmo que a voz trema por dentro, há que fazê-la sair firme e serena, e mesmo que se oiça o coração bater desordeiramente fora do peito é preciso domá-lo, acalmá-lo, ordenar-lhe que bata mais devagar e faça menos alarido, e esperar, esperar que ele obedeça, que se esqueça, apagar-lhe a memória, o desejo, a saudade, a vontade.Às vezes mais vale desistir do que insistir, esquecer do que querer .. e no ar ficará para sempre a dúvida se fizémos bem, mas pelo menos temos a paz de ter feito aquilo que devia ser feito, mas o melhor é mesmo partir para outro mundo, para outro lugar, mesmo quando o que mais queremos é ficar, permanecer, construir, investir, amar. "</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #7c7c7c; font-size: 14.85px;">Margarida Rebelo Pinto </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span face=""arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #7c7c7c; font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Cu5hhxP_prE" width="320" youtube-src-id="Cu5hhxP_prE"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;"><br /><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">"What if you had it all</span></i></span><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">But nobody to call?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Maybe then you'd know me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">'Cause I've had everything</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">But no one's listening</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">And that's just fuckin' lonely"</span></span></i></div></div>
Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-62572329675681698812021-01-27T01:29:00.008+00:002023-03-28T02:34:10.011+01:00There's no rhyme or reason to this life. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Acho que, depois de certos eventos, certas pessoas que se cruzam no nosso caminho, não voltamos a ser quem fomos. Ficamos perdidas, algures no escuro deixado pelo que já não volta, e por mais que tentemos voltar atrás, o mapa ficou gasto e estragou-se. Esquece-mo-nos do caminho por onde viemos.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> E avançamos para a frente, apalpando o terreno, sem saber o que fazer a seguir - trabalhar às escuras dá nisso. Porém, acho que é assim que se avança, mesmo sentindo que os fardos permanecem os mesmos. Em dois pés ou de quatro, a correr ou a rastejar, lá vamos avançando, muito devagarinho, pois estas são caminhadas cansativas, mas que valem sempre a pena<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> [tenho que acreditar que valerá a pena no final.]</span> Gosto de pensar que, uma manhã, acordarei sem que este chumbo no peito me incomode (muito).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Um dia, espero eu.</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><em><br /></em></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Até lá, finge-se que está-se bem. Mesmo sabendo que é uma mentira pegada, está na hora da avançar. Pegarei no copo de vinho e brindarei às festas profanas, brindarei às minhas ilusões, que me fizeram sentir amor onde nunca poderia existir. Brindarei a um futuro brincalhão, que teima em não se revelar - parece que o Tempo sabe que eu não gosto de surpresas.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Enfim, está na hora de avançar - a bem ou a mal.</b></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Para a frente é que é caminho, porque atrás reside o arrependimento.</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></span>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Veja bem, meu bem, sinto te informar</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">Que arranjei alguém pra me confortar</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"></span></span></i>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">E esse alguém está quando você sai</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"></span></span></i>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">E eu só posso crer, pois sem ter você</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Nesses braços tais</div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Veja bem, amor, onde está você?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">Somos no papel, mas não no viver</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"></span></span></i>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">Viajar sem mim, me deixar assim</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"></span></span></i>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">Tive que arranjar alguém pra passar os dias ruins"</span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge">
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com3Europa54.5259614 15.255118726.215727563821154 -19.9011313 82.836195236178838 50.4113687tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-11819007335469661942020-11-30T15:12:00.002+00:002024-01-05T00:51:35.545+00:00"Life becomes easier when you learn to accept an apology you never got."<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhbtxeqQ4ndnFnq10UXJuEojZqP6s8ZSt5uzELsnDNXQqzkxcyyeXVTrK7Pdk3OwFSZf35sBRrXzfriIJzRhYaiM4fRHkYfFPmTqOlCX38XdA6pKqjJb5DRStpHVX_4_rmHxdp_D9GJnLk7yaKiuAgzzd5uCuwptYx_uYLDkV6NRsQ3Fl600mNQ00VIgd/s570/transferir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="570" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhbtxeqQ4ndnFnq10UXJuEojZqP6s8ZSt5uzELsnDNXQqzkxcyyeXVTrK7Pdk3OwFSZf35sBRrXzfriIJzRhYaiM4fRHkYfFPmTqOlCX38XdA6pKqjJb5DRStpHVX_4_rmHxdp_D9GJnLk7yaKiuAgzzd5uCuwptYx_uYLDkV6NRsQ3Fl600mNQ00VIgd/w400-h283/transferir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> Há um ano atrás, vivíamos apaixonados. Faz hoje um ano que o dissemos. Há um ano atrás, eramos nós contra o mundo, com paixão e amizade e esperança, tanta esperança. Há um ano, era amor. <p></p><p>Mas já não o é. </p><p>Hoje chove. E está frio. E não estás do meu lado. Mas ainda há amor em mim, sabes? Irá sempre haver amor aqui, em mim, por ti.</p><p>Que seja um bom dia para ti, abelhinha. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/q0KZuZF01FA" width="320" youtube-src-id="q0KZuZF01FA"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">"Oh, you're in my veins</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">And I cannot get you out</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Oh, you're all I taste</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">At night inside of my mouth</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Oh, you run away</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">'Cause I am not what you found</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Oh, you're in my veins</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">And I cannot get you out"</span></span></i></div>Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-61234809427500892712020-10-07T01:59:00.006+01:002024-01-05T01:01:18.043+00:00O tempo cura tudo, até a felicidade. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<p><br /></p><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityWu-IvbYM3NOB39gp6lD0GzG1j5vGFou-MTX_U2A-bmRgF9vq1MjLDuXZkBNqzXWMLu9Ii5RAoTd53DdH4-7w9Q_GrzHuToSzJ2xpZ-4VKtmVRxuIHgRRdoTdFsw47qSmMD_el2DBvTcTghtXaMAevQ7HmY-2-hs_AQ_e9xbsrfkWQeYUDD1Atg6T5p_/s750/H%C3%A1%20momentos%20que%20parecem%20o%20final%20de%20um%20epis%C3%B3dio%20de%20alguma%20s%C3%A9rie%20Voc%C3%AA%20pode%20at%C3%A9%20sentir%20a%20m%C3%BAsica%20de%20fundo,%20o%20seu%20mon%C3%B3logo%20e%20os%20cr%C3%A9ditos%20rolando%20-%20aldreysenhando.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="735" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityWu-IvbYM3NOB39gp6lD0GzG1j5vGFou-MTX_U2A-bmRgF9vq1MjLDuXZkBNqzXWMLu9Ii5RAoTd53DdH4-7w9Q_GrzHuToSzJ2xpZ-4VKtmVRxuIHgRRdoTdFsw47qSmMD_el2DBvTcTghtXaMAevQ7HmY-2-hs_AQ_e9xbsrfkWQeYUDD1Atg6T5p_/w393-h400/H%C3%A1%20momentos%20que%20parecem%20o%20final%20de%20um%20epis%C3%B3dio%20de%20alguma%20s%C3%A9rie%20Voc%C3%AA%20pode%20at%C3%A9%20sentir%20a%20m%C3%BAsica%20de%20fundo,%20o%20seu%20mon%C3%B3logo%20e%20os%20cr%C3%A9ditos%20rolando%20-%20aldreysenhando.jpg" width="393" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: georgia;">"Fui eu quem te disse que tinha de partir, que já não aguentava mais. E foste tu que fugiste, sem te despedires. Onde estiveres não penses em mim. Deixa-me de todas as maneiras, as mais subtis. Tem muito cuidado com os cigarros, sobretudo não adormeças a fumar. Sinto que uma paz grande me vem pouco a pouco agarrar. Estou cansada. Vou dormir e quando acordar tu já não existirás em sítio algum dentro de mim. Juro"<span><br /></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;">Pedro Paixão in L<i>ágrimas</i></span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/z4PKzz81m5c" width="320" youtube-src-id="z4PKzz81m5c"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">"Almost blue</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Flirting with this disaster became me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">It named me as the fool who only aimed to be</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">Almost blue</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">It's almost touching it will almost do</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">There's a part of me that's always true... always"</span></i></span></p><p></p>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-39658104322918132932020-08-16T23:47:00.004+01:002024-01-05T01:05:24.900+00:00This too shall pass.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gG-XAXtpqyL8Px_qVdLne9BtEczfYRAER2H6ZS3LOXX7kpJ8Qf_Vbg5RzhvgNnJCr1soTkvnkaVDoRL9gzrMOaYGOZ5fqjW5qv3cvinQwRVgrTWW1_otJ-lwgtYfSHtiP4BfJKNsJAmX/s1600/FB_IMG_15975128671107691.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gG-XAXtpqyL8Px_qVdLne9BtEczfYRAER2H6ZS3LOXX7kpJ8Qf_Vbg5RzhvgNnJCr1soTkvnkaVDoRL9gzrMOaYGOZ5fqjW5qv3cvinQwRVgrTWW1_otJ-lwgtYfSHtiP4BfJKNsJAmX/s1600/FB_IMG_15975128671107691.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Hoje eu acordei assim, com os pés fora da cama...<br /><br /><br /><br /></b></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wTUF1khnUBg" width="320" youtube-src-id="wTUF1khnUBg"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"One day you're gonna ride ahead of yours</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">That day you're ride ahead of your vocation</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Hurt - you know it comes like this, it goes like this</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Hurt - you know it goes like this, it comes like this</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I guess the pills don't work and the drinks don't work</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">In the morning they'll hurt like cigarette burns</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">The summers daft and winter's long"</span></i></span></div>
Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-78547766215975722812020-08-05T15:51:00.003+01:002024-01-05T01:10:51.198+00:00O fio vermelho.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsPBJ-rJ1sLOzaAIA4ZDJ9LmWYQDJpxhIl-enYFZrU2-bwUqO0QJG3ngUerhd72kH-m59PO-thIVZnnQ4tT0JQS9-AmXORZqkX-lkHhEh8a_PUepRTX2Cd3Ewtn-pRt5XLVukZ8QzGsGjnDjhD_H6wJiRhPNuJ7r_W6CiCqVvCFhQBa-JvPtpRMtAr6fo/s735/transferir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="723" data-original-width="735" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsPBJ-rJ1sLOzaAIA4ZDJ9LmWYQDJpxhIl-enYFZrU2-bwUqO0QJG3ngUerhd72kH-m59PO-thIVZnnQ4tT0JQS9-AmXORZqkX-lkHhEh8a_PUepRTX2Cd3Ewtn-pRt5XLVukZ8QzGsGjnDjhD_H6wJiRhPNuJ7r_W6CiCqVvCFhQBa-JvPtpRMtAr6fo/w400-h394/transferir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"Podias ter-me dito que ias sair da minha vida. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A paixão é mesmo isto, nunca sabemos quando acaba ou se transforma em amor, e eu sabia que a tua paixão não iria resistir à erosão do tempo, ao frio dos dias, ao vazio da cama, ao silêncio da distância. Há um tempo para acreditar, um tempo para viver e um tempo para desistir, e nós tivemos muita sorte porque vivemos todos esses tempos no modo certo. Podias ter-me dito que querias conjugar o verbo desistir. Demorei muito tempo a aceitar que, às vezes, desistir é o mesmo que vencer, sem travar batalhas. Antigamente pensava que não, que quem desiste perde sempre, que a subtracção é a arma mais cobarde dos amantes, e o silêncio a forma mais injusta de deixar fenecer os sonhos. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mas a vida ensinou-me o contrário. Hoje sei que desistir é apenas um caminho possível, às vezes o único que os homens conhecem. Contigo aprendi que o amor é uma força misteriosa e divina. Sei que também aprendeste muito comigo, mais do que imaginas e do que agora consegues alcançar. Só o tempo te vai dar tudo o que de mim guardaste, esse tempo que é uma caixa que se abre ao contrário: de um lado estás tu, e do outro estou eu, a ver-te sem te poder tocar, a abraçar-te todas as noites antes de adormeceres e a cada manhã ao acordares.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Não sei quando te voltarei a ver ou a ter notícias tuas, mas sabes uma coisa? Já não me importo, porque guardei-te no meu coração antes de partires. Numa noite perfeita entre tantas outras, liguei o meu coração ao teu com um fio invisível e troquei uma parte da tua alma com a minha, enquanto dormias."</span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Margarida Rebelo Pinto,<i> in</i> <i>"Vou Contar-te um Segredo</i>" </span><br /></span></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">"lighltly your tears have broken my dreams</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">a night for illusions, a night for your fears</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">close to my heart just for a second</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">close to my heart then fallen apart"</span></i></span></div>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-30155301091720002792020-07-17T02:17:00.003+01:002024-01-05T01:20:28.570+00:00E agora, uma pausa na programação habitual.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7pNiDv3h57x7DVKTAJWskhUuey4zKD5HhOP-f9UrK2ycAXd16uV8KU_6NVQpbjOD3rK5vTvVTZpmgpl9GLshMZc_RYZ_tMZOFQziGvm0_ykqjX-5Oz2KwvSOrOL6tJ2_CEzMNbkvKOih08aimXjZ6TGlub3wXgxOFx3Q4KF-KLeVwLLl4b2R5cSjxqgV/s736/Matt%20Blease_%20Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7pNiDv3h57x7DVKTAJWskhUuey4zKD5HhOP-f9UrK2ycAXd16uV8KU_6NVQpbjOD3rK5vTvVTZpmgpl9GLshMZc_RYZ_tMZOFQziGvm0_ykqjX-5Oz2KwvSOrOL6tJ2_CEzMNbkvKOih08aimXjZ6TGlub3wXgxOFx3Q4KF-KLeVwLLl4b2R5cSjxqgV/s320/Matt%20Blease_%20Photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Eu sei que não me deveria sentir assim, mas eu não consigo deixar de me sentir um pouco ofendida; li um post (aqui na blogosfera) em que a autora contou que a sua vizinha tinha roubado uma toalha do Hotel Ibis, e de como todo o mundo sabe que quem vai para o Hotel Ibis é que tem amante ou quer fazer o tango na horizontal e não quer gastar muito dinheiro.</span><br />
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<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><i>O que é que me ofende nisto tudo? A última vez que estive com ele, ele insistiu em passarmos o fim-de-semana num Hotel Ibis. Damn</i>! Quer dizer, ele partiu-me o coração nesse hotel, e é forreta, também?! Não há respeito, sinceramente... </span><br />
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Pronto, já passou.<br />
Regressemos à programação habitual.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-Vk5BilXOCA" width="320" youtube-src-id="-Vk5BilXOCA"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>"What I am is not enough, to help you dreaming</i></span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">What I give it does not heal, your scars are bleeding</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">What I take from you it hurts and keeps me mad,</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I should be giving</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">What I am is not enough."</span></i></span></div>
Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4206324992576885289.post-23264214938944195182020-07-09T01:09:00.001+01:002024-01-05T01:27:08.005+00:00Loving you was like going to war. I never came back the same.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f4cccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"E de novo acredito que nada do que é importante se perde verdadeiramente.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f4cccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Apenas nos iludimos, julgando ser donos das coisas, dos instantes, e dos outros. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f4cccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f4cccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Comigo caminham todos os mortos que amei, todos os amigos que se afastaram, todos os dias felizes que se apagaram.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f4cccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #f4cccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Não perdi nada, apenas a ilusão que tudo poderia ser meu para sempre." </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Miguel Sousa Tavares </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E15ws4orytg" width="320" youtube-src-id="E15ws4orytg"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">"Summer is almost wasted</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">and so we are too</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">I know I am just a station</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">that you are a passing through"</span></i></span></div>
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Bicho do Matohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05344280952423180324noreply@blogger.com2