<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:38:28.224-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Escritora</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-8900734072309811878</id><published>2011-01-01T12:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T12:36:53.992-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TR-PfAhnc7I/AAAAAAAAAPI/OckCt_zdWFM/s1600/life_down_the_drain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557318228078195634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TR-PfAhnc7I/AAAAAAAAAPI/OckCt_zdWFM/s200/life_down_the_drain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As trevas dominam o amanhecer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O calor do sol é silenciado pelo pavor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um dia sem cor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os raios do dia destruidos pelo rancor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As ruas exalam o medo de seus transeuntes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Praças e parques escondem olhos astutos e cruéis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Finas gotas de espalham-se por um solo profanado pela morte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Corpos são corroidos pelo ódio de seus antepassados&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A chuva mistura-se ao sangue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Espalhando um odor de ferro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida escorre pelo mundo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Aratfenien 06/12/2010&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-8900734072309811878?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/8900734072309811878/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2011/01/as-trevas-dominam-o-amanhecer-o-calor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8900734072309811878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8900734072309811878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2011/01/as-trevas-dominam-o-amanhecer-o-calor.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TR-PfAhnc7I/AAAAAAAAAPI/OckCt_zdWFM/s72-c/life_down_the_drain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-2645618206527493191</id><published>2010-11-18T07:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T07:53:11.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ausência</title><content type='html'>Olá meus queridos amigos.&lt;br /&gt;Já faz um bom tempo que não apareço por aqui com criações literárias. Peço desculpas a todos os meus seguidores e amigos, mas problemas me impediram.&lt;br /&gt;Agradeço de coração a todos os comentários, elogios, apoio, enfim... Muito obrigada.&lt;br /&gt;Farei o possível para postar novas criações em breve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um grande beijo a todos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ana Aratfenien.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-2645618206527493191?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/2645618206527493191/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/11/ausencia.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2645618206527493191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2645618206527493191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/11/ausencia.html' title='Ausência'/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5090878666363957779</id><published>2010-06-15T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T08:48:35.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TBegrkZMT6I/AAAAAAAAAOg/rNgM-8vO-Jk/s1600/The_Search_by_mirchiz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 120px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483027741711028130" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TBegrkZMT6I/AAAAAAAAAOg/rNgM-8vO-Jk/s200/The_Search_by_mirchiz.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seguir buscando&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E não encontrar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O desespero &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cala a ansiedade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a dor da perda&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Destrói a saudade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Aratfenien - 02/06/2010&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5090878666363957779?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5090878666363957779/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/06/seguir-buscando-e-nao-encontrar-o.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5090878666363957779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5090878666363957779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/06/seguir-buscando-e-nao-encontrar-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TBegrkZMT6I/AAAAAAAAAOg/rNgM-8vO-Jk/s72-c/The_Search_by_mirchiz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-6812358698704298887</id><published>2010-05-16T17:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T17:53:19.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S_CTRLdm9DI/AAAAAAAAAN4/4fDYpb3gsig/s1600/nightly_nightmares_by_emauz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 293px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472035470599189554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S_CTRLdm9DI/AAAAAAAAAN4/4fDYpb3gsig/s200/nightly_nightmares_by_emauz.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;O travesseiro já estava molhado depois de horas que as lágrimas escorriam, sem que eu conseguisse controlar. O silêncio tornara minha angústia maior. Não deixava que seu nome fosse embora de meus pensamentos. Os sonhos tentavam dominar-me, eu resistia. Queira esquecer, mas não podia. Tudo a minha volta lembrava você. Aquele perfume era presente em meu olfato. Seus olhos me observavam na escuridão. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Tudo estava &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /&gt;&lt;st1:personname st="on" productid="em breus. Mas"&gt;em breus. Mas&lt;/st1:PersonName&gt;, o que está acontecendo? Há uma luz à minha frente. Ela se aproxima. O que é? Nada mais está escuro, a luz domina meu quarto... quarto? Onde está meu quarto? Não tem nada aqui. É uma sala vazia. “Oi”... o silêncio me responde. “Onde estou” grito. Novamente ele é o único que se pronuncia. Mas aos poucos palavras vão aparecendo nas paredes. Não são palavras quais queres, é uma única palavra. Seu nome. Estão em todos os tamanhos, todas as formas e desenhos. Estes pulsam como se quisessem me agredir. Eu me encolho, ajoelho, tento esconder meu tosto e vozes repetem seu nome. Sei que é um sonho. Mas como sair desse mundo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Penso em gritar até que meu “eu” verdadeiro desperte. Mas a única coisa que consigo gritar é “me ajude’. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Tudo se silencia. Porém ainda estou sonhando. Ainda estou nessa sala branca, ajoelhada no chão. Alguém me oferece ajuda. Vejo seu sorriso, como esquecer ele? Estendo-lhe a mão em resposta, mas você é arrastado de mim, para longe. E em um piscar de olhos me vejo em uma avenida. Muitos transitam por essa. Vejo um casal vindo em minha direção, vou pedir ajuda. Mas... é você, com outra mulher. Dou um passo para trás e esbarro em um outro casal, e é você novamente. Todos que transitam pela rua são você e uma mulher diferente a cada passo. Todos me ignoram, me esnobam, me esbarram. Eu não existo nesse mundo. No seu mundo. Sou apenas uma qualquer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Mas estou em meus sonhos. Não nos seus. Isso é uma conspiração de minha mente contra mim. Tenho uma pugna interna, mas estou desarmada. Sei que perderei a batalha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Fecho os olhos, e agora estou dentro de uma gaiola. Tudo está escuro. Tento diminuir o frio com meus braços. Um holoforte me descobre. Todos riem de mim, me chamam de tola. Tento me esconder, mas não consigo sair do lugar. Todos me olham com pena, mas gargalham de alegria. O momentos é arrepiante. Meu coração acelera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Tudo passa por minha mente &lt;st1:personname st="on" productid="em segundos. Sinto"&gt;em segundos. Sinto&lt;/st1:PersonName&gt; meu rosto molhado, e, ao abrir os olhos, vejo que o me que umedece são as lágrimas em meu travesseiro. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-INDENT: 36pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Por Ana Aratfenien&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-6812358698704298887?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/6812358698704298887/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-travesseiro-ja-estava-molhado-depois.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6812358698704298887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6812358698704298887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-travesseiro-ja-estava-molhado-depois.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S_CTRLdm9DI/AAAAAAAAAN4/4fDYpb3gsig/s72-c/nightly_nightmares_by_emauz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-577988815137133725</id><published>2010-04-30T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T19:44:20.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uUsQPXlLI/AAAAAAAAANE/uj-jEXENKf8/s1600/Silence_by_Friday_13th.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466126060738811058" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uUsQPXlLI/AAAAAAAAANE/uj-jEXENKf8/s200/Silence_by_Friday_13th.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;Dudas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-size:14;" lang="ES-TRAD" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Aún no sé que pasa en mi pecho&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Las noches, las paso en claro&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dudas planean en el techo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;De la soledad&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Relleno los huecos enfermos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Con recuerdos de antaño&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imaginándote en otros brazos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Que las lágrimas me colman&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Aún quiero comprenderte&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Para saber quién soy&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nada más quiero buscar&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Intento callar el silencio&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;O apenas llenarlo de ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Por Ana Aratfenien - A30/04/2010&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-577988815137133725?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/577988815137133725/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/dudas-aun-no-se-que-pasa-en-mi-pecho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/577988815137133725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/577988815137133725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/dudas-aun-no-se-que-pasa-en-mi-pecho.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uUsQPXlLI/AAAAAAAAANE/uj-jEXENKf8/s72-c/Silence_by_Friday_13th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-2983294369722326219</id><published>2010-04-30T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T19:45:06.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uSO7sSbXI/AAAAAAAAAM8/MVZWWbtm-q0/s1600/Tango_by_deadengel.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 208px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 255px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466123357983501682" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uSO7sSbXI/AAAAAAAAAM8/MVZWWbtm-q0/s200/Tango_by_deadengel.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"&gt; Tango&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;En un ritmo frenético&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nuestros cuerpos se encuentran&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mis manos tocando las tuyas&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nuestros rostros pegados&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No quieren se dividir&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;La música cautiva a nuestros pasos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cada gesto, cada movimiento&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sigue el ritmo de un violín&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nuestras piernas se confunden&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;En el mismísimo espacio&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dos cuerpos se deshacen&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;El violín se mezcla a un piano&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Una voz se junta al dúo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Al sonido de este tango&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Nuestros mundos se ligan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Por Ana Aratfenien - A30/04/2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-2983294369722326219?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/2983294369722326219/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/tango-en-un-ritmo-frenetico-nuestros.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2983294369722326219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2983294369722326219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/tango-en-un-ritmo-frenetico-nuestros.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uSO7sSbXI/AAAAAAAAAM8/MVZWWbtm-q0/s72-c/Tango_by_deadengel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1449867291141959510</id><published>2010-04-30T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T19:45:40.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uQhsElQqI/AAAAAAAAAM0/wn67NDxVqYE/s1600/Seeking_Solace_by_rejectedangel18.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466121481184690850" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uQhsElQqI/AAAAAAAAAM0/wn67NDxVqYE/s200/Seeking_Solace_by_rejectedangel18.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"&gt;Sígo Buscándote&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:14;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;La noche déjame sola&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Quiero tu compañía&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pero estás lejos de mí&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sigo buscándote&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;En mis pensamientos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;La luna clarea mis líneas&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;El bolígrafo se desliza por la hoja&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imagino mi cuerpo en tus manos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sigo buscándote&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;En mi piel&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;El silencio domina mi habitación&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;El latir de en mi pecho&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Colma mi cama&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sigo buscándote&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;En mis oídos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Las recordaciones vienen a mis ojos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Miro tu sonrisa maliciosa&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cierro mis parpados&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sigo dejándome&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;En tus brazos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Por Ana Aratfenien - A30/04/2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1449867291141959510?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1449867291141959510/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/sigo-buscandote-la-noche-dejame-sola.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1449867291141959510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1449867291141959510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/sigo-buscandote-la-noche-dejame-sola.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uQhsElQqI/AAAAAAAAAM0/wn67NDxVqYE/s72-c/Seeking_Solace_by_rejectedangel18.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5143839630976529138</id><published>2010-04-30T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T19:47:19.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uPIU5jg9I/AAAAAAAAAMs/8EGDZULUzAQ/s1600/kissing_in_the_rain_by_kokoszkaa.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 198px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466119945956066258" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uPIU5jg9I/AAAAAAAAAMs/8EGDZULUzAQ/s200/kissing_in_the_rain_by_kokoszkaa.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;Baile en la Lluvia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:14;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cierro mis ojos&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;La lluvia cae en mi piel&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Siento una sensación nueva&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Un escalofrío camina por mis espaldas&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;El gotear en mi rostro&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Lleva mis lágrimas al suelo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Los recuerdos en mi mente&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Se disipan, se evaporan&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Siento un calor extraño&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi piel se calienta&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Oigo una voz conocida&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Palabras dominan mi juicio&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mis piernas ya aflojadas&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dejan mi cuerpo en brazos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;En un baile sin música&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mis labios son domesticados&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;El pulsar de mi sangre&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD" lang="ES-TRAD"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Llévame a otros mundos&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;Y tu misterio eleva mi alma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" lang="ES-TRAD"  &gt;Por Ana Aratfenien - A30/04/2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5143839630976529138?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5143839630976529138/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/baile-en-la-lluvia-cierro-mis-ojos-la.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5143839630976529138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5143839630976529138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/04/baile-en-la-lluvia-cierro-mis-ojos-la.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S9uPIU5jg9I/AAAAAAAAAMs/8EGDZULUzAQ/s72-c/kissing_in_the_rain_by_kokoszkaa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-3860914569433945546</id><published>2010-02-23T13:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T13:36:13.054-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S4RJgNeSEYI/AAAAAAAAAMg/TFgEwKvqVl8/s1600-h/LETRAS+AOS+CORVOS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 184px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441555067491717506" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S4RJgNeSEYI/AAAAAAAAAMg/TFgEwKvqVl8/s200/LETRAS+AOS+CORVOS.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S4RI0NHr_YI/AAAAAAAAAMY/kLN3M3SZK14/s1600-h/apresenta%C3%A7%C3%A3o_corvos.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;“Não, não te assustes: não fugiu o meu espírito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Vê em mim um crânio, o único que existe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Do qual, muito ao contrário de uma fronte viva,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Tudo aquilo que flui jamais é triste.” - Lord Byron&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Editora Li&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;ter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;ata,&lt;/span&gt; e os organizadores &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Ana Car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;olina Giorgion&lt;/span&gt; e &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;M. D. Amado&lt;/span&gt;, convidam você a participar dessa antologia de poesias, voltada aos sentimentos mais obscuros e depressivos do ser humano. A alma crua e bruta, vista pelos olhos negros dos poetas insanos e suas palavras malditas... Talvez, mal ditas..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As inscrições para a Antologia LETRAS AOS CORVOS serão abertas no dia 15 de fevereiro de 2009 e encerradas no dia 15 de maio de 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais informações, entre em contato pelo email: &lt;a href="mailto:literataantologias@yahoo.com.br"&gt;lit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:literataantologias@yahoo.com.br"&gt;erataantologias@yahoo.com.br&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://letrasaoscorvos.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://letrasaoscorvos.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-3860914569433945546?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/3860914569433945546/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/nao-nao-te-assustes-nao-fugiu-o-meu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3860914569433945546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3860914569433945546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/nao-nao-te-assustes-nao-fugiu-o-meu.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S4RJgNeSEYI/AAAAAAAAAMg/TFgEwKvqVl8/s72-c/LETRAS+AOS+CORVOS.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-6798290147530502929</id><published>2010-02-01T08:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T08:13:07.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b9CWyqNRI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/ZVewTuGMn_8/s1600-h/The_End_Of_The_Story_by_soulofautumn87.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 264px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433308217388709138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b9CWyqNRI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/ZVewTuGMn_8/s200/The_End_Of_The_Story_by_soulofautumn87.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Triste é o fim&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem ao menos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ter tido começo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Triste é a despedida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem ao menos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ter tido chegada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Triste é a saudade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem ao menos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ter tido presença.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Triste é a morte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem ao menos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ter tido vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Triste é a vida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem ao menos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ter tido amor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31/01/2010 S.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-6798290147530502929?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/6798290147530502929/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/triste-e-o-fim-sem-ao-menos-ter-tido.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6798290147530502929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6798290147530502929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/triste-e-o-fim-sem-ao-menos-ter-tido.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b9CWyqNRI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/ZVewTuGMn_8/s72-c/The_End_Of_The_Story_by_soulofautumn87.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-287637933477507238</id><published>2010-02-01T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T08:08:19.194-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b8HW5cxCI/AAAAAAAAAMI/YeDWQsxgWk0/s1600-h/Sorrow____by_sweet_lovely_death.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 244px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433307203804906530" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b8HW5cxCI/AAAAAAAAAMI/YeDWQsxgWk0/s200/Sorrow____by_sweet_lovely_death.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O peito grita&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O ar se esvai&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A voz se perde&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os olhos caem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A boca fecha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os dentes trincam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O corpo treme&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O amor nasce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A felicidade morre.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31/01/2010 S.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-287637933477507238?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/287637933477507238/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/o-peito-grita-o-ar-se-esvai-voz-se.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/287637933477507238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/287637933477507238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/o-peito-grita-o-ar-se-esvai-voz-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b8HW5cxCI/AAAAAAAAAMI/YeDWQsxgWk0/s72-c/Sorrow____by_sweet_lovely_death.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-8196054701503897814</id><published>2010-02-01T07:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T08:01:26.172-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b6pxixR7I/AAAAAAAAAMA/Rnkf1ix1T2M/s1600-h/Bloody_Tears_by_angelreich.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 251px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433305596049835954" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b6pxixR7I/AAAAAAAAAMA/Rnkf1ix1T2M/s200/Bloody_Tears_by_angelreich.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A mente gira&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em um turbilhão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;de ideias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O peito rasga&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em um tornado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;de emoções&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O corpo treme&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em um tufão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;de lembranças&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O ar some&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em um furacão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;de soluçoes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os olhos fecham&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em uma tempestade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;de lágrimas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida se perde&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;por uma serena&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;decisão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31/01/2010 S.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-8196054701503897814?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/8196054701503897814/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/mente-gira-em-um-turbilhao-de-ideias-o.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8196054701503897814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8196054701503897814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/mente-gira-em-um-turbilhao-de-ideias-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b6pxixR7I/AAAAAAAAAMA/Rnkf1ix1T2M/s72-c/Bloody_Tears_by_angelreich.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1606906429352197518</id><published>2010-02-01T07:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T06:54:28.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b5H4jXCFI/AAAAAAAAAL4/ZTh7O8Fcjuw/s1600-h/Tears.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 297px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 209px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433303914304178258" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b5H4jXCFI/AAAAAAAAAL4/ZTh7O8Fcjuw/s200/Tears.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Choro de Anjos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As nuvens estão carregadas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Levam os pecados de cada coração&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gostas constantes caem do céu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Molhando cada coração imperfeito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que choram os Anjos?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Meus olhos fundos e vermelhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Revelam a noite mau dormida&lt;br /&gt;O bater constante em minha janela&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Desenha seu rosto em minha memória&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que choram os Anjos?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Minha mente vaga amargando meus momentos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rosto me são trazidos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seu rosto no centro de um tornado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E a chuva aumenta o compasso&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que choram os Anjos?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sentimentos já experimentados&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um gosto amargo me vem do coração&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A tentativa de engolir o fel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;lágrimas saltam de meus olhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que choram os Anjos?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A caneta desliza no papel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Manchas de chuva borram as letras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O barulho não mais é ouvido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas a água forra o chão de meu quarto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O ritmo da caneta para ao silêncio dos Anjos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31/10/2010 S.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1606906429352197518?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1606906429352197518/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/choro-de-anjos-as-nuvens-estao.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1606906429352197518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1606906429352197518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2010/02/choro-de-anjos-as-nuvens-estao.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/S2b5H4jXCFI/AAAAAAAAAL4/ZTh7O8Fcjuw/s72-c/Tears.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5981773270913404196</id><published>2009-12-01T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T11:37:49.702-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SxVu4RC19dI/AAAAAAAAAKg/twEkxCwb48E/s1600/pict0975.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410352440282576338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SxVu4RC19dI/AAAAAAAAAKg/twEkxCwb48E/s320/pict0975.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Antologia Folhas de Espantos foi lançada no dia 29/11/2009. Agora está disponível a todos que desejarem ter uma boa leitura.Fico no aguardo do contato de todos para adquirirem seus exemplares. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um grande abraço.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5981773270913404196?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5981773270913404196/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/12/antologia-folhas-de-espantos-foi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5981773270913404196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5981773270913404196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/12/antologia-folhas-de-espantos-foi.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SxVu4RC19dI/AAAAAAAAAKg/twEkxCwb48E/s72-c/pict0975.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1603581486711677687</id><published>2009-11-09T15:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T16:32:30.865-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SvilxeusI6I/AAAAAAAAAKY/Sb1O8A1NXqk/s1600-h/Princess_Of_Shadows_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402250022511977378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SvilxeusI6I/AAAAAAAAAKY/Sb1O8A1NXqk/s320/Princess_Of_Shadows_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Re)Volta&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sombras desta escuridão implacável&lt;br /&gt;Sombras que me perseguem pela noite&lt;br /&gt;Me permitam um momento de solidão eterna&lt;br /&gt;Me tirem da angustia e amargura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentimento profundo que me acompanha&lt;br /&gt;Sentimento de dor que me aprisiona&lt;br /&gt;Não me permita ouvir choro de anjos novamente&lt;br /&gt;Me de um momento de abandono eterno&lt;br /&gt;Me faça esquecer a angustia e amargura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulsos que entoam minha agonia pelo corpo&lt;br /&gt;Veias que carregam o veneno de minha febre&lt;br /&gt;Permitam que meus ventos soprem as velas&lt;br /&gt;Deixem que a luz dessa sobrevida se apague&lt;br /&gt;Levem paras as trevas a angustia e amargura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pés que procuram caminhos solventes&lt;br /&gt;Mãos que pintam abstratos de loucura e pó&lt;br /&gt;Tirem de mim as imagens de meu torso contorcido&lt;br /&gt;Atrofiado pela imobilidade de minhas vontades&lt;br /&gt;Cubram de cores escuras a angustia e amargura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corpos que vagam sem perdão pela terra da morte&lt;br /&gt;Bocas seladas pelo pavor dos deuses&lt;br /&gt;Afugentem minha alma de meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;Dilacerem meu peito em segundos&lt;br /&gt;Acabem com o bater de um coração já inerte e sem vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hades, Seol e Infernus&lt;br /&gt;Realize-se a tua vontade em minha vida&lt;br /&gt;Domem meus pensamentos e aprisionem meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;Levem-me para as profundezas deste abismo&lt;br /&gt;Me permitam sentir o sabor de teu fel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tinjam-me com o líquido negro que sai de teus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Tragam-me a tão esperada paz em meio a teus tormentos&lt;br /&gt;Digam-me palavras perdidas, eternas e mastigáveis&lt;br /&gt;Me permitam sentir o que sou, dentro do que nunca quis&lt;br /&gt;Me levem de volta ao inferno de onde nunca deveria ter saído.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por M.D. Amado e Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1603581486711677687?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1603581486711677687/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/11/revolta-sombras-desta-escuridao.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1603581486711677687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1603581486711677687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/11/revolta-sombras-desta-escuridao.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SvilxeusI6I/AAAAAAAAAKY/Sb1O8A1NXqk/s72-c/Princess_Of_Shadows_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-4573084307057356756</id><published>2009-11-09T04:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T04:29:14.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SvgK-vVHp8I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/y5RjoGuaqBw/s1600-h/she_look_for_a_pliers____by_missdanifilth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402079826004125634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SvgK-vVHp8I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/y5RjoGuaqBw/s320/she_look_for_a_pliers____by_missdanifilth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saudades sob as Unhas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ainda trago sob as unhas o teu vermelho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Castigado por tua sombra, vago quase impune&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nos termos daquela nossa vontade carnal&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Era teu escravo, teu instrumento de suor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Acabou... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ainda respiro o teu último suspiro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Num hálito gélido de convite à morte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Escapei de tua crueldade disfarçada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Vestida de paixão e prazer &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ainda tenho fios de cabelo em meu corpo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Impregnados com o teu rosto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Vejo teus olhos na transformação &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do brilho, ao opaco silencioso do corte final&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Acabou... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ainda sinto teu cheiro dos momentos de prazer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Como uma fêmea no cio a implorar por carícias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Olor dos desejos da carne&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os quais te consumiram por inteiro. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ainda levo em meus lábios o quente de seu corpo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Num contraste grotesco entre o passado e o presente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O calor se esvai dentre minhas mãos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os toques de desejos substituídos pelo pavor &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Acabou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A transformação para escravidão de um dono maior&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seu corpo jaz pelos pecados do prazer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida se esvai entre minhas mãos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E seu espírito, escravo da morte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dueto entre M.D. Amado e Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-4573084307057356756?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/4573084307057356756/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/11/saudades-sob-as-unhas-ainda-trago-sob.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4573084307057356756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4573084307057356756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/11/saudades-sob-as-unhas-ainda-trago-sob.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SvgK-vVHp8I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/y5RjoGuaqBw/s72-c/she_look_for_a_pliers____by_missdanifilth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-3919944668349669789</id><published>2009-09-16T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T06:46:57.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SrDsBYAXhtI/AAAAAAAAAKI/hGd1rC33afc/s1600-h/killer_by_zhuzhu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382061063075759826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SrDsBYAXhtI/AAAAAAAAAKI/hGd1rC33afc/s320/killer_by_zhuzhu.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Forças dominadas pelo ódio&lt;br /&gt;Olhos que ardem em rancor&lt;br /&gt;A vida foi injusta&lt;br /&gt;E a justiça será plena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unhas que se cravam em um peito&lt;br /&gt;Um lugar onde não há coração&lt;br /&gt;Apenas um pedaço de carne&lt;br /&gt;Pútrida e fétida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sangue ferve em minhas veias&lt;br /&gt;Perto de explodir&lt;br /&gt;Um grito se perde no vago&lt;br /&gt;Grito de dor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meu estômago fraco&lt;br /&gt;Vomita minhas víceras&lt;br /&gt;O nojo me domina&lt;br /&gt;E o passado é expelido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Algo que já não tinha vida&lt;br /&gt;Perde-se em minhas mãos.&lt;br /&gt;Um pescoço estrangulado&lt;br /&gt;E um corpo esquartejado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um corpo sem vida&lt;br /&gt;A justiça plena&lt;br /&gt;Uma única lágrima de pena&lt;br /&gt;É derramada, e nada mais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-3919944668349669789?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/3919944668349669789/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/forcas-dominadas-pelo-odio-olhos-que.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3919944668349669789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3919944668349669789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/forcas-dominadas-pelo-odio-olhos-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SrDsBYAXhtI/AAAAAAAAAKI/hGd1rC33afc/s72-c/killer_by_zhuzhu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-8014544499777939558</id><published>2009-09-13T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:40:23.801-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq100NHS19I/AAAAAAAAAKA/tDnY57d1XTM/s1600-h/darkness_by_S_K_M_N.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381085569999886290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq100NHS19I/AAAAAAAAAKA/tDnY57d1XTM/s320/darkness_by_S_K_M_N.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pela primeira vez vi a escuridão&lt;br /&gt;Não entendia o que estava acontecendo&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo estava parado&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos olhavam em volta&lt;br /&gt;Não havia vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senti um calafrio passar por minha espinha&lt;br /&gt;Um vento gelado me abraçou&lt;br /&gt;Ouvi vozes baixas&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos olhavam em volta&lt;br /&gt;Não havia vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senti medo, senti anseio&lt;br /&gt;Comecei a rir&lt;br /&gt;Eu estava embriagada&lt;br /&gt;Gargalhadas ressoavam no meio do nada.&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos olhavam em volta&lt;br /&gt;Não havia vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lembrei-me da luz&lt;br /&gt;A escuridão não parecia tão ruim&lt;br /&gt;Mas foi puro engano&lt;br /&gt;Passos em minhas costas&lt;br /&gt;Eu estava imóvel.&lt;br /&gt;Não conseguia me mexer.&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos olhavam em volta&lt;br /&gt;Não havia vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senti um calor em meu pescoço&lt;br /&gt;Sussurros meus ouvidos ouviram&lt;br /&gt;Frias mãos me acomodaram&lt;br /&gt;Senti um leve incomodo&lt;br /&gt;Mas foi rápido&lt;br /&gt;Vi um rosto nas sombras.&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos olhavam em volta&lt;br /&gt;Não havia vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-8014544499777939558?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/8014544499777939558/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/pela-primeira-vez-vi-escuridao-nao.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8014544499777939558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8014544499777939558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/pela-primeira-vez-vi-escuridao-nao.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq100NHS19I/AAAAAAAAAKA/tDnY57d1XTM/s72-c/darkness_by_S_K_M_N.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1177407905661882685</id><published>2009-09-13T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:35:22.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1zjH9zx6I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/ITIT1nqC9cI/s1600-h/Fairytale_by_Dream_traveler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381084177048520610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1zjH9zx6I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/ITIT1nqC9cI/s320/Fairytale_by_Dream_traveler.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma vida foi descoberta&lt;br /&gt;Um coração amaldiçoado reavivado&lt;br /&gt;Você foi minha ilusão&lt;br /&gt;Nunca pensei que poderia amar assim&lt;br /&gt;A vida nunca permitiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma única ilusão&lt;br /&gt;De um passado negro&lt;br /&gt;Um conto de fadas&lt;br /&gt;Sem um final feliz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um sentimento crescia dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração batia lentamente&lt;br /&gt;Meu amor já não era fascinação&lt;br /&gt;Um amor imortal&lt;br /&gt;Em um corpo dilacerado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sangue já não mais circulava por minhas veias&lt;br /&gt;Alguma transformação dentro de mim acontecia&lt;br /&gt;Um sentimento de vida nascia&lt;br /&gt;Minhas veias palpitavam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma única ilusão&lt;br /&gt;De um passado negro&lt;br /&gt;Um conto de fadas&lt;br /&gt;Sem um final feliz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que eu queria não mais importava&lt;br /&gt;Vivia só para agradar ao meu senhor&lt;br /&gt;Meu sangue lhe pertencia&lt;br /&gt;Assim como meu coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma súbita modificação&lt;br /&gt;Sentia dor sem saber o motivo&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo não mais agüentava&lt;br /&gt;Ele se abria para o mundo&lt;br /&gt;Eu me fechava para a vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma única ilusão&lt;br /&gt;De um passado negro&lt;br /&gt;Um conto de fadas&lt;br /&gt;Sem um final feliz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1177407905661882685?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1177407905661882685/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/uma-vida-foi-descoberta-um-coracao.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1177407905661882685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1177407905661882685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/uma-vida-foi-descoberta-um-coracao.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1zjH9zx6I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/ITIT1nqC9cI/s72-c/Fairytale_by_Dream_traveler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-906530761208205571</id><published>2009-09-13T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:08:34.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1s9lkNW5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/YyGImlQ9hjk/s1600-h/four_seasons_wallpaper_by_Dawn42.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381076935089413010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1s9lkNW5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/YyGImlQ9hjk/s320/four_seasons_wallpaper_by_Dawn42.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1sj4kBhJI/AAAAAAAAAJo/YokFv0Ebw0w/s1600-h/4+ESTA%C3%87%C3%95ES.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381076493512311954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 1px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 1px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1sj4kBhJI/AAAAAAAAAJo/YokFv0Ebw0w/s320/4+ESTA%C3%87%C3%95ES.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Na cor da primavera&lt;br /&gt;Consegui ver um mundo novo&lt;br /&gt;Mundo que me aguardava&lt;br /&gt;Uma nova vida a ser aproveitada&lt;br /&gt;Momentos que nunca esqueceria&lt;br /&gt;Tudo era belo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na cor da primavera&lt;br /&gt;Uma vida nasceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na brisa do verão&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração abrigou novos sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;Tão puros como mares longínquos&lt;br /&gt;Amores nunca encontrados&lt;br /&gt;Descobertos em um dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na brisa do verão&lt;br /&gt;Um sentimento nasceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Num entardecer de outono&lt;br /&gt;Um sentimento diferente&lt;br /&gt;Uma dor que apertava&lt;br /&gt;Um coração perfurado&lt;br /&gt;Sangue escorria por entre minhas mãos&lt;br /&gt;O motivo... eu não sei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Num entardecer de outono&lt;br /&gt;Uma dor nasceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No frio do inverno&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração desfaleceu&lt;br /&gt;Não tinha mais amores.&lt;br /&gt;Não sentia mais a dor.&lt;br /&gt;Nada mais me comovia&lt;br /&gt;Minha vida já não era minha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No frio do inverno.&lt;br /&gt;Uma vida morreu. &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-906530761208205571?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/906530761208205571/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/na-cor-da-primavera-consegui-ver-um.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/906530761208205571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/906530761208205571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/na-cor-da-primavera-consegui-ver-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1s9lkNW5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/YyGImlQ9hjk/s72-c/four_seasons_wallpaper_by_Dawn42.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1718169527138944121</id><published>2009-09-13T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:01:34.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1rocPrCrI/AAAAAAAAAJg/O9kQ2VCbpkU/s1600-h/Storm_Weather_by_Pixydream.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381075472298478258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1rocPrCrI/AAAAAAAAAJg/O9kQ2VCbpkU/s320/Storm_Weather_by_Pixydream.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ao erguer os olhos para o céu&lt;br /&gt;Nuvens de tormenta se formam&lt;br /&gt;Um anúncio de tempestade&lt;br /&gt;Momentos de desespero dominam meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;Quero gritar, mas a voz morre na garganta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No negrume do dia&lt;br /&gt;Relâmpagos são a única luz&lt;br /&gt;Em meu coração revolve uma mágoa&lt;br /&gt;Minhas mãos, trêmulas&lt;br /&gt;Não apóiam meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;A solidão doma minha mente&lt;br /&gt;E um amor é afastado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na tormenta das águas&lt;br /&gt;Sonhos são exilados em mundos de demônios&lt;br /&gt;O sangue escorre pela parede de meu quarto&lt;br /&gt;Lembranças suicidas dominam meu peito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A calma domina o mundo&lt;br /&gt;O raiar de um novo dia&lt;br /&gt;Anuncia o fim da tempestade&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo está leve&lt;br /&gt;Minha mão afaga meu peito sangrento&lt;br /&gt;Memórias passam em segundos&lt;br /&gt;O amanhecer de um dia&lt;br /&gt;No fim de minha vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1718169527138944121?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1718169527138944121/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/ao-erguer-os-olhos-para-o-ceu-nuvens-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1718169527138944121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1718169527138944121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/ao-erguer-os-olhos-para-o-ceu-nuvens-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1rocPrCrI/AAAAAAAAAJg/O9kQ2VCbpkU/s72-c/Storm_Weather_by_Pixydream.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-3522866523369122719</id><published>2009-09-13T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T14:56:02.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1qPEV7IpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/4plydWjOWz0/s1600-h/candle_by_DarXide.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381073936873890450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1qPEV7IpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/4plydWjOWz0/s320/candle_by_DarXide.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A escuridão é dominante&lt;br /&gt;Medos e temores se revelam&lt;br /&gt;Vejo pessoas sem vida&lt;br /&gt;Com lágrimas em suas pálidas faces&lt;br /&gt;Você é uma delas&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo lhe ajudar&lt;br /&gt;Seu coração perfurado&lt;br /&gt;Jorra Sangue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentimentos entrelaçados&lt;br /&gt;Sem saberem se distinguir&lt;br /&gt;Uma única vela ilumina o caminho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca vi nada parecido&lt;br /&gt;Não sinto nada em meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração sangra de dor&lt;br /&gt;Por ver sua morte lenta&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo suportar&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração jaz destroçado&lt;br /&gt;Implora por ajuda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duas vidas entrelaçadas&lt;br /&gt;Sem conseguirem se dividir.&lt;br /&gt;Um única lâmina destrói o caminho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meu maior medo&lt;br /&gt;Agora é realizado&lt;br /&gt;A diferença é o maior inimigo&lt;br /&gt;Você está tão longe&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo sentir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida e a morte entrelaçadas&lt;br /&gt;Sem saberem se distinguir.&lt;br /&gt;Um único golpe e tudo acaba.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-3522866523369122719?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/3522866523369122719/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/escuridao-e-dominante-medos-e-temores.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3522866523369122719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3522866523369122719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/escuridao-e-dominante-medos-e-temores.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sq1qPEV7IpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/4plydWjOWz0/s72-c/candle_by_DarXide.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5929873402341987733</id><published>2009-09-12T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:09:33.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqwrSQzjMgI/AAAAAAAAAJI/1qkuZvc8jJI/s1600-h/Suicide_Boy_2_by_Hamstler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380723247549723138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqwrSQzjMgI/AAAAAAAAAJI/1qkuZvc8jJI/s320/Suicide_Boy_2_by_Hamstler.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A depressão me dominou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não havia saída&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A luz não mais axiatia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Meus pulsos, já resgados, palpitavam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Meu corpo frio perdia o sangue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um vida em segundos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um futuro em uma eternidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida não tinha mais sentido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O amor era uma ilusão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E a morte um sonho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um mundo onde,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Desejos e tormentas se confundiam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Já estaria morta?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Provavelmente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Son foram ouvidos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um momento de ternura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Único de uma vida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um luz se ascende.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um longo túnel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Caminho nunca percorrido.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um vida em segundos&lt;br /&gt;Um futuro em uma eternidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Momento de renovação&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma visão do desconhecido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tormentas apagadas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Desejos realizados&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Minha vida nascendo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;De um passado apagado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um vida em segundos&lt;br /&gt;Um futuro em uma eternidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5929873402341987733?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5929873402341987733/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/depressao-me-dominou-nao-havia-saida.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5929873402341987733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5929873402341987733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/depressao-me-dominou-nao-havia-saida.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqwrSQzjMgI/AAAAAAAAAJI/1qkuZvc8jJI/s72-c/Suicide_Boy_2_by_Hamstler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-3175847840070305440</id><published>2009-09-12T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:10:09.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqwoFKF0TRI/AAAAAAAAAJA/wkgkfcPzIA0/s1600-h/_Mask_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380719723874110738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqwoFKF0TRI/AAAAAAAAAJA/wkgkfcPzIA0/s320/_Mask_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Dor consumidora&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Raiva que me afeta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Você não se importa?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nunca se importou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fui cega durante anos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não percebi o que estava acontecendo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Acabou. Tudo acabou!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sua máscara caiu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seu espetáculo terminou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tentaram me avisar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas eu não quis dar atenção.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Confiei em você&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Amei você.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas tudo foi em vão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Você não deu valor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ao meu sentimento.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Espero que você um dia se arrependa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do mal que me causou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E com sofrimento pague&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Toda dor e sofrimento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A quem tanto te amou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Acabou. Tudo acabou!&lt;br /&gt;Sua máscara caiu.&lt;br /&gt;Seu espetáculo terminou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-3175847840070305440?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/3175847840070305440/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/dor-consumidora-raiva-que-me-afeta-voce.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3175847840070305440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3175847840070305440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/dor-consumidora-raiva-que-me-afeta-voce.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqwoFKF0TRI/AAAAAAAAAJA/wkgkfcPzIA0/s72-c/_Mask_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-8867669806227992132</id><published>2009-09-09T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T11:25:02.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvYNg3nxI/AAAAAAAAAI4/w3Jbl0LdYlQ/s1600-h/AL%C3%89M+DO+AZUL+DO+C%C3%89U.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Caros Amigos,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Primeiramente é um grande prazer tê-los aqui. Fico francamente agradecida com as visitas de todos.&lt;br /&gt;Além de escritora, como alguns já sabem, também sou Design Gráfico. Então deixo aqui algumas de minhas artes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um grande Abraços.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379531479140769554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvYNg3nxI/AAAAAAAAAI4/w3Jbl0LdYlQ/s200/AL%C3%89M+DO+AZUL+DO+C%C3%89U.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Capa do livro Além do Azul do Céu&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvXs6KobI/AAAAAAAAAIw/kzw56vpBK9A/s1600-h/CAPA+FRANCIS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379531470388502962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvXs6KobI/AAAAAAAAAIw/kzw56vpBK9A/s200/CAPA+FRANCIS.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Capa do Livro Toques de Emoção&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvW7bJzYI/AAAAAAAAAIg/8aM3X-JfQu8/s1600-h/CAPA+FOLHAS+DE+ESPANTOS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379531457105087874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 120px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvW7bJzYI/AAAAAAAAAIg/8aM3X-JfQu8/s200/CAPA+FOLHAS+DE+ESPANTOS.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Capa da Antologia Folhas de Espantos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvWRHOEXI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6-Kwo0VAFHM/s1600-h/O+GRIMORE+DOS+VAMPIROS+NOVO.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379531445747192178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 148px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvWRHOEXI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6-Kwo0VAFHM/s200/O+GRIMORE+DOS+VAMPIROS+NOVO.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Capa da Antologia O Grimoire dos Vampiros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379531464360126082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 85px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvXWc45oI/AAAAAAAAAIo/ch1WQD2wYJc/s200/Foto+Coreaona.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Montagem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-8867669806227992132?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/8867669806227992132/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/caros-amigos-primeiramente-e-um-grande.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8867669806227992132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8867669806227992132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/09/caros-amigos-primeiramente-e-um-grande.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SqfvYNg3nxI/AAAAAAAAAI4/w3Jbl0LdYlQ/s72-c/AL%C3%89M+DO+AZUL+DO+C%C3%89U.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-6661249446012744398</id><published>2009-08-14T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T11:07:34.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SoWnqL-94xI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/sBq6RWz3X_4/s1600-h/Office_job__stressful_job_by_FriXedAirwave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369882473922421522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 311px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SoWnqL-94xI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/sBq6RWz3X_4/s320/Office_job__stressful_job_by_FriXedAirwave.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;INTENCIONES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esta hora que no pasa. Ya es viernes y aún faltan dos horas para que yo pueda salir. Sólo consigo pensar en mi casa, en mi salón. Aquel sillón tan confortable, aquella estantería con la tele y con mi dvd. Podría ahora estar estirado en el mirando a una película y con una cerveza en la mano. Mejor, podría estar mirar al partido de fútbol. Mi equipo juega hoy. Y yo aquí.Este reloj esta me enojando. Falta una hora y media. Puedo sentir el olor de la cena que mi esposa esta preparando. Mi plato favorito, paella. Esto está me matando. Podría estar ahora sentado en una de las seis sillas de la ancha mesa del comedor. Podría estar cenando con mi querida esposa y con mis hijos. ¿Mis hijos? No, creo que no con ellos. Sólo con mi cariño. Podríamos estar solitos. Hace tiempo que eso no ocurre. Pero, ¿que podría hacer con mis hijos? Creo que no importaría a mi madre quedarse con ellos. Pero primer tengo que salir de este infierno.Estos punteros no caminan más. ¡Están arrastrándose! La voluntad que tengo es de romper, de despedazar este maldito reloj. Quiero salir de este sitio y falta una hora. ¡Qué rollo! Podría estar en mi habitación. Mi cama me llama. Oiga, ella me clama. Tengo que ir. Mi cuerpo está muy cansado, mi miente también. Tengo qué estirarme en ella. Tengo que descansar. Podría estar en mi cama leyendo aquel libro que no he terminado. La historia está tan interesante. No sé si fue aquella maligna mujer que mató a su esposo. Pero la única cosa que quiero asesinar ahora, es este reloj.¡Gracias a Dios! Faltan sólo cinco minutos. Voy a beber un vaso de agua y después me voy. Mira, es mi jefe. Pero... está viniendo para cá. ¿Cómo? ¿Quieres que yo haga hora extra? Pero tengo que ir a mi casa. ¿Tengo que me quedar? ¿El bono es bueno? No sé... ¿Será que me quedo?... Podría usar este dinero para comprar aquel zapato que mi cariño tanto quiere. Pero, ¿por cuantas horas? Sólo dos. Cierto, me quedo. No creo que dije eso. Ahora el único sillón que voy me estirar es esta silla incómoda. No creo. Una nueva pelea con el reloj. Y ahora tengo estas carpetas para pelear.¡Falta una hora! Estoy solito acá en mi oficina. No sé que puedo hacer para que el tiempo pase más rápido. Estas carpetas y este ordenador me ponen loco. Están en un complot contra mi. Bueno... Puedo oír música. Déjeme ver... No hay nadie acá… Creo que esta es buena. A sí es muy buena. Pero podría esta en mí casa oyendo mis discos. Podría estar en mi sofá oyendo a Carlos Gardel con una luz baja. Bailaría un rato con mi esposa y después... Bien... Creo que voy a pedir para dejar a nuestros hijos en la casa de mi madre. Cariño, estoy llamándote pues hoy me retrasaré un rato. En menos de una hora salgo de aquí. No, no es esto. Es que mi jefe me solicitó. No te preocupes. Quiero pedirte un favor, lleve los chicos a mi madre, hace tiempo que ello no se quedan con ella y yo quiero tener una charla contigo. No, no es nada. Cierto. Creo que en una hora y media llego. Te amo. Besos.¡Qué bueno! Sólo faltan cinco minutos. No voy a beber agua. Voy esperar aquí, en silencio. ¡Sólo cuatro! Voy a mi casa. Cenaré. Y voy a poner una música. ¡Sólo tres! Me ducharé. Me afeitaré y me poneré perfumado. ¡Sólo dos! Después bailaré con mi cariño y la besaré. ¡Sólo uno! Y... Ahora me voy.Que bueno que no tenia tránsito. La luz está prendida, creo que mi esposa ya llevó los chicos a mi mamá. ¡Hola cariño! ¿Cómo? ¿Quieres que te acompañe al mercado? Pero... Podremos charlar por el camino. Más... Después aún vas a la peluquería. Es que... Quieres aprovechar que no tienes que cuidar de los chicos. No era eso que pensaba en hacerlo. Pero si es lo que qieres, ¿qué puedo yo hablarte?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-6661249446012744398?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/6661249446012744398/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/intenciones-esta-hora-que-no-pasa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6661249446012744398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6661249446012744398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/intenciones-esta-hora-que-no-pasa.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SoWnqL-94xI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/sBq6RWz3X_4/s72-c/Office_job__stressful_job_by_FriXedAirwave.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-4411528294096195012</id><published>2009-08-07T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T17:38:04.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SnzHnXhb-CI/AAAAAAAAAII/gaoVo1dMa1k/s1600-h/in_Hell_by_ictenbey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367384335061874722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SnzHnXhb-CI/AAAAAAAAAII/gaoVo1dMa1k/s320/in_Hell_by_ictenbey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Prepare-se a viagem vai começar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Partimos em segundos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mundos desconhecidos serão descobertos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cidades lunáticas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;De sistemas terrestres&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um mundo de vidas amaldiçoadas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pela morte &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não tema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A morte é a libertação&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dos viventes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Corpos que caminham sem vida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cuidado a morte pode lhe alcançar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não brinque com isso&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ela não tem piedade dos vivos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ela os deseja. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A embarcação voa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Entre nuvens de sonhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Acordados por gritos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um lugar de gritos silenciosos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um desespero que todos sentem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas calam-se na multidão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não tema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A morte é a libertação&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dos viventes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gargantas cortadas pelo passado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um lugar de meditação&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Perante gargalhadas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E lágrimas de gelo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Que queimam como fogo &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O fim está próximo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Você vê?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Todos navegam para lá&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O fim da terra da morte &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Está acabando&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas ela nos espera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Com um sorriso mórbido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E uma gargalhada silenciosa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-4411528294096195012?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/4411528294096195012/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/prepare-se-viagem-vai-comecar-partimos.html#comment-form' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4411528294096195012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4411528294096195012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/prepare-se-viagem-vai-comecar-partimos.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SnzHnXhb-CI/AAAAAAAAAII/gaoVo1dMa1k/s72-c/in_Hell_by_ictenbey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-7647377943912737954</id><published>2009-08-07T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T17:15:44.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SnzDlSwajWI/AAAAAAAAAIA/XzoM3Sh4rGk/s1600-h/Drain_by_DigitalSmear.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367379901376269666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SnzDlSwajWI/AAAAAAAAAIA/XzoM3Sh4rGk/s320/Drain_by_DigitalSmear.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O fino fio da consciência é rompido&lt;br /&gt;O real e o imaginário se mesclam&lt;br /&gt;Em um poço sem fundo&lt;br /&gt;O bem e o mal perdem o sentido&lt;br /&gt;Não existe mais realidade&lt;br /&gt;Os atos são impensados&lt;br /&gt;As personalidades trocam de lado&lt;br /&gt;A multiplicidade se converte na unidade&lt;br /&gt;A sensatez é perdida&lt;br /&gt;E a vida se esvai pelo ralo do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-7647377943912737954?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/7647377943912737954/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-fino-fio-da-consciencia-e-rompido-o.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7647377943912737954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7647377943912737954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-fino-fio-da-consciencia-e-rompido-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SnzDlSwajWI/AAAAAAAAAIA/XzoM3Sh4rGk/s72-c/Drain_by_DigitalSmear.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-7513744284965892819</id><published>2009-08-07T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T16:56:40.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sny-98Ckx4I/AAAAAAAAAH4/wpsU6sQ7lac/s1600-h/strangle_by_ologiskt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367374827217012610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sny-98Ckx4I/AAAAAAAAAH4/wpsU6sQ7lac/s320/strangle_by_ologiskt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida não é a mesma que antes&lt;br /&gt;Busco significado em cada passo&lt;br /&gt;Em cada ato&lt;br /&gt;Mas nada faz sentido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olho no espelho&lt;br /&gt;Um rosto estranho me é apresentado&lt;br /&gt;Tento encontrar semelhanças&lt;br /&gt;Mas elas não aparecem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Levo a mão ao rosto&lt;br /&gt;Delineio os arroxeados presentes&lt;br /&gt;Gostaria de descobrir quem sou&lt;br /&gt;Perguntas pululam em minha mente&lt;br /&gt;E nenhuma resposta é apresentada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lembranças que não são minhas&lt;br /&gt;Apresentam-se como em um filme&lt;br /&gt;Em minhas mãos a marca de um crime&lt;br /&gt;E em seu pescoço a marca de meus dedos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-7513744284965892819?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/7513744284965892819/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/vida-nao-e-mesma-que-antes-busco.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7513744284965892819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7513744284965892819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/08/vida-nao-e-mesma-que-antes-busco.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sny-98Ckx4I/AAAAAAAAAH4/wpsU6sQ7lac/s72-c/strangle_by_ologiskt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5292619687856837018</id><published>2009-07-28T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T16:52:50.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-PObwXVqI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/0BCwzzzAqWI/s1600-h/504ef783511e0529.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363663159353104034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-PObwXVqI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/0BCwzzzAqWI/s320/504ef783511e0529.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Em uma clara noite&lt;br /&gt;Vem ela.&lt;br /&gt;Ela estava toda de branco.&lt;br /&gt;Sorria ao luar e às estrelas.&lt;br /&gt;Sem se aperceber do mal presente&lt;br /&gt;Vinha com os cabelos&lt;br /&gt;Livres ao vento&lt;br /&gt;E seu coração aberto a ele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ele estava ali sentado.&lt;br /&gt;Ele estava todo de preto.&lt;br /&gt;Em seus olhos refletiam a lua&lt;br /&gt;Lua testemunha de sua frieza&lt;br /&gt;Estava ali parado&lt;br /&gt;Com cabeça baixa&lt;br /&gt;E coração fechado a ela.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinha ela para encontrar com ele.&lt;br /&gt;Um coração aberto&lt;br /&gt;Um coração fechado.&lt;br /&gt;Dois destinos distintos&lt;br /&gt;Que se cruzaram.&lt;br /&gt;A lua não mais brilhava.&lt;br /&gt;Ela ali sentada&lt;br /&gt;Sem sorrir&lt;br /&gt;Derramava suas lágrimas.&lt;br /&gt;Ele caminhava,&lt;br /&gt;Com o vento em seu cabelos&lt;br /&gt;E um sorriso em seus lábios.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5292619687856837018?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5292619687856837018/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/em-uma-clara-noite-vem-ela.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5292619687856837018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5292619687856837018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/em-uma-clara-noite-vem-ela.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-PObwXVqI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/0BCwzzzAqWI/s72-c/504ef783511e0529.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1035679703507977865</id><published>2009-07-28T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T16:48:22.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-OKKQg07I/AAAAAAAAAHI/YVxtt9iOOHQ/s1600-h/nightmare_by_lucyluh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363661986425000882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 289px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-OKKQg07I/AAAAAAAAAHI/YVxtt9iOOHQ/s320/nightmare_by_lucyluh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Anoiteceu,&lt;br /&gt;Deite-se em seu leito.&lt;br /&gt;O sono já vira.&lt;br /&gt;Olhe,&lt;br /&gt;Ele está chegando.&lt;br /&gt;Ele lhe envolve aos poucos.&lt;br /&gt;Seu corpo amolece,&lt;br /&gt;Sua mente vagueia.&lt;br /&gt;Ele está acompanhado.&lt;br /&gt;Seu companheiro se chama sonho.&lt;br /&gt;Este lhe domina.&lt;br /&gt;Você se imagina em uma límpida noite&lt;br /&gt;Caminhando pela rua.&lt;br /&gt;Você está sozinho.&lt;br /&gt;Mas não tem medo&lt;br /&gt;Não teme a escuridão&lt;br /&gt;Mas sua tranqüilidade...&lt;br /&gt;...  acaba.&lt;br /&gt;Você não está mais nessa rua&lt;br /&gt;Está tudo escuro&lt;br /&gt;Você não consegue se mexer&lt;br /&gt;Você tenta gritar&lt;br /&gt;Mas a voz não sai.&lt;br /&gt;Agora você está caindo,&lt;br /&gt;Caindo,&lt;br /&gt;E então...&lt;br /&gt;Você acorda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1035679703507977865?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1035679703507977865/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/anoiteceu-deite-se-em-seu-leito.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1035679703507977865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1035679703507977865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/anoiteceu-deite-se-em-seu-leito.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-OKKQg07I/AAAAAAAAAHI/YVxtt9iOOHQ/s72-c/nightmare_by_lucyluh.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-3044851283584864234</id><published>2009-07-28T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T16:45:22.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-Ndpr47PI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Ev5YqSlnpXQ/s1600-h/In_the_forest_of_the_night____by_mooshroom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363661221767212274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-Ndpr47PI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Ev5YqSlnpXQ/s320/In_the_forest_of_the_night____by_mooshroom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Dia de Sol&lt;br /&gt;Deveria estar alegre&lt;br /&gt;Mas não estou.&lt;br /&gt;A felicidade bateu em minha porta&lt;br /&gt;Mas a rejeitei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dia de Sol&lt;br /&gt;Meu dia não está bom,&lt;br /&gt;Procuro me mostrar feliz&lt;br /&gt;Mas a angustia me encontra&lt;br /&gt;Você não está aqui,&lt;br /&gt;Cadê você?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dia de Sol&lt;br /&gt;Ele se pôs&lt;br /&gt;Deito em minha cama&lt;br /&gt;E o sono vem&lt;br /&gt;Penso em você&lt;br /&gt;E sua imagem é nítida&lt;br /&gt;Traz consigo a felicidade&lt;br /&gt;E meu dia termina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-3044851283584864234?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/3044851283584864234/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/dia-de-sol-deveria-estar-alegre-mas-nao.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3044851283584864234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3044851283584864234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/dia-de-sol-deveria-estar-alegre-mas-nao.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-Ndpr47PI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Ev5YqSlnpXQ/s72-c/In_the_forest_of_the_night____by_mooshroom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-7801438823925443829</id><published>2009-07-28T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T16:40:19.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-L_NimLoI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ZpfHBEFZRFo/s1600-h/ef9b7beff94ae8dcb1bbc24f980169c3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363659599304339074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-L_NimLoI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ZpfHBEFZRFo/s320/ef9b7beff94ae8dcb1bbc24f980169c3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; No coração&lt;br /&gt;Só me resta um pesar&lt;br /&gt;Uma dor&lt;br /&gt;Tão profunda e forte&lt;br /&gt;Você me faz grande falta&lt;br /&gt;Você se foi&lt;br /&gt;E não deu tempo de dizer adeus&lt;br /&gt;Essa dor me acompanhara&lt;br /&gt;Para sempre&lt;br /&gt;E para sempre&lt;br /&gt;Terei na lembrança&lt;br /&gt;Seu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Seu abraço&lt;br /&gt;E seu amor&lt;br /&gt;Sinto muito sua falta&lt;br /&gt;Espero que saiba&lt;br /&gt;Que te amo&lt;br /&gt;E sempre lembrarei de ti.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Para meu avô&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Que não tive tanto tempo para conhecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mas que amo intensamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-7801438823925443829?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/7801438823925443829/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/no-coracao-so-me-resta-um-pesar-uma-dor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7801438823925443829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7801438823925443829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/no-coracao-so-me-resta-um-pesar-uma-dor.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-L_NimLoI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ZpfHBEFZRFo/s72-c/ef9b7beff94ae8dcb1bbc24f980169c3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5626812423202780144</id><published>2009-07-28T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T17:00:34.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-KXaKXlZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/OHQhgAxNmbY/s1600-h/ana+c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363657815985984914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 207px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-KXaKXlZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/OHQhgAxNmbY/s320/ana+c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Auto-retrato&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt;inda lembro&lt;br /&gt;em um passado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;N&lt;/em&gt;ão tão distante&lt;br /&gt;um rosto de criança&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt;mável, calmo&lt;br /&gt;com sonhos de contos de fadas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;C&lt;/em&gt;om uma visão afastada do mundo&lt;br /&gt;tão ingênua e despreparada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt;gora vejo nessa alma&lt;br /&gt;tão profunda e misteriosa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;R&lt;/em&gt;ecordações recentes de uma adolescente&lt;br /&gt;realista e alegre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O&lt;/em&gt;lhar profundo e reluzente&lt;br /&gt;momentos marcantes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;L&lt;/em&gt;oucuras inesquecíveis,&lt;br /&gt;pensamentos distantes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;magino meu futuro&lt;br /&gt;claramente,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;N&lt;/em&gt;ítido como águas cristalinas&lt;br /&gt;em um rosto que a idade não mente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt;mores passados&lt;br /&gt;e uma vida conquistada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5626812423202780144?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5626812423202780144/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/auto-retrato-ainda-lembro-em-um-passado.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5626812423202780144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5626812423202780144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/auto-retrato-ainda-lembro-em-um-passado.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-KXaKXlZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/OHQhgAxNmbY/s72-c/ana+c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1473127337823721987</id><published>2009-07-28T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T16:24:42.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-IRGIOoUI/AAAAAAAAAGo/5uCmcpzOpsw/s1600-h/Edward_Cullen_Wallpaper_by_bondofflamex3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363655508505829698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-IRGIOoUI/AAAAAAAAAGo/5uCmcpzOpsw/s320/Edward_Cullen_Wallpaper_by_bondofflamex3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Um sorriso cativante&lt;br /&gt;Preenche o cenário&lt;br /&gt;Olhos cor de topázio, me fitam&lt;br /&gt;O bem e o mal se confrontam&lt;br /&gt;A inexplicável atração&lt;br /&gt;O ar me falta aos pulmões&lt;br /&gt;Tento respirar&lt;br /&gt;Lembrando-me de minha natureza fraca&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração reluta dentro de meu peito&lt;br /&gt;Fecho os olhos para tentar acordar deste sonho&lt;br /&gt;Mas não acordo&lt;br /&gt;Busco motivos para a separação&lt;br /&gt;Mas não os encontro&lt;br /&gt;Minha vida inexiste sem você&lt;br /&gt;Aproximo-me mais&lt;br /&gt;Com a consciência de um provável arrependimento&lt;br /&gt;Mas toda minha vida é pouca&lt;br /&gt;Para contemplar sua beleza&lt;br /&gt;As palavras perdem o significado&lt;br /&gt;Assim como minha existência&lt;br /&gt;A perfeição de seus atos&lt;br /&gt;Prendem-me pela eternidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1473127337823721987?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1473127337823721987/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-sorriso-cativante-preenche-o-cenario.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1473127337823721987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1473127337823721987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-sorriso-cativante-preenche-o-cenario.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sm-IRGIOoUI/AAAAAAAAAGo/5uCmcpzOpsw/s72-c/Edward_Cullen_Wallpaper_by_bondofflamex3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-4023444935828406427</id><published>2009-07-24T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T14:45:46.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Smoql55Xk0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/ZCPTFuL5rPw/s1600-h/One_Step_by_sweety15267.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362145137022964546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Smoql55Xk0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/ZCPTFuL5rPw/s320/One_Step_by_sweety15267.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pulsar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Amar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Jogar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pulsar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Vibrar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gemer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Pulsar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sorrir&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gritar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pulsar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Chorar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sonhar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pulsar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Viver&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Matar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pulsar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suicidar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-4023444935828406427?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/4023444935828406427/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/pulsar-amar-jogar-pulsar-vibrar-gemer.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4023444935828406427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4023444935828406427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/pulsar-amar-jogar-pulsar-vibrar-gemer.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Smoql55Xk0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/ZCPTFuL5rPw/s72-c/One_Step_by_sweety15267.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5177032750099360337</id><published>2009-07-24T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T11:19:57.404-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmopIZbWFpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/v7oD2lHx-KM/s1600-h/Lipstick_by_fallinginsane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362143530579269266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 253px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmopIZbWFpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/v7oD2lHx-KM/s320/Lipstick_by_fallinginsane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma menina mulher&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um corpo evoluido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seus fartos seios visíveis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As curvas são expostas devido a roupa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O lápis delineia seus belhos olhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um batom vermelho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A perda da infância&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Com o amadurecimento precoce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Aquele que dizia que à amava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Abusou de sua confiança&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma lágrima rola&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O retoque é feito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O dia para muitos terminou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas para a menina mulher &lt;div align="center"&gt;Apenas começou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5177032750099360337?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5177032750099360337/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/uma-menina-mulher-um-corpo-evoluido.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5177032750099360337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5177032750099360337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/uma-menina-mulher-um-corpo-evoluido.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmopIZbWFpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/v7oD2lHx-KM/s72-c/Lipstick_by_fallinginsane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-2924590547698028192</id><published>2009-07-21T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:31:25.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZdhHAwRsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/CRoQydQcawQ/s1600-h/OAAAANO_J-2Qjn6YNd4ZaqxfyWt8Tg4zT4eXuiZaqboWwdXDsJzAoArV5sMDaBLSK7wXskYGPI_lk6k_4uEGK_YcxRgAm1T1UKvM4-FPKNEgdhSUlanhVOLshJGU.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361075229830432450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZdhHAwRsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/CRoQydQcawQ/s320/OAAAANO_J-2Qjn6YNd4ZaqxfyWt8Tg4zT4eXuiZaqboWwdXDsJzAoArV5sMDaBLSK7wXskYGPI_lk6k_4uEGK_YcxRgAm1T1UKvM4-FPKNEgdhSUlanhVOLshJGU.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um grito surge meio a platéia&lt;br /&gt;O susto se espalha&lt;br /&gt;A vida é narrada pelo desconhecido&lt;br /&gt;O cenário cheira a morte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um casal de tempos antigos&lt;br /&gt;Por todos muito conhecidos&lt;br /&gt;Duas famílias divididas&lt;br /&gt;Por ódios que os céus não explicam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amores que profanam as tradições&lt;br /&gt;Um beijo excede fronteiras&lt;br /&gt;Um casamento na calada da noite&lt;br /&gt;Dois corpos unidos em um.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guerra das ruas&lt;br /&gt;A briga e a morte&lt;br /&gt;O amor e o ódio caminhando de mãos dadas&lt;br /&gt;Corpos caem por solo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um corpo que se divide em dois&lt;br /&gt;Dois caminhos para salvarem-se&lt;br /&gt;O casamento se aproxima&lt;br /&gt;A palidez ri-se da sorte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estratégias são montadas&lt;br /&gt;Mensagens não entregues&lt;br /&gt;Uma poção e uma droga&lt;br /&gt;Dois corpos, um corpo&lt;br /&gt;A vida se esvai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desejos lançados aos céus&lt;br /&gt;O desconhecido narra o real&lt;br /&gt;Mãos se encontram&lt;br /&gt;E as cortinas não caem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Esta poesia dedico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A todos os atores &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Da peça SACRIFICIO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-2924590547698028192?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/2924590547698028192/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-grito-surge-meio-plateia-o-susto-se.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2924590547698028192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2924590547698028192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-grito-surge-meio-plateia-o-susto-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZdhHAwRsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/CRoQydQcawQ/s72-c/OAAAANO_J-2Qjn6YNd4ZaqxfyWt8Tg4zT4eXuiZaqboWwdXDsJzAoArV5sMDaBLSK7wXskYGPI_lk6k_4uEGK_YcxRgAm1T1UKvM4-FPKNEgdhSUlanhVOLshJGU.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-6564421547003851999</id><published>2009-07-21T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:43:17.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZcsLHwmxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/8MHp8UhD76o/s1600-h/paper_heart__by_naduss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361074320400489234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZcsLHwmxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/8MHp8UhD76o/s320/paper_heart__by_naduss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Andei por ruas escuras&lt;br /&gt;Nadei por mares incertos&lt;br /&gt;Dormi em camas impuras&lt;br /&gt;Esperei para ter-te bem perto&lt;br /&gt;Ri dos dramas da vida&lt;br /&gt;Sonhei com beijos profundos&lt;br /&gt;Ocultei feridas antigas&lt;br /&gt;Nasci para um novo mundo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A alguem que conheci&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Em algumas horas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E ficará para sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Em meu coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-6564421547003851999?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/6564421547003851999/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/andei-por-ruas-escuras-nadei-por-mares.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6564421547003851999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6564421547003851999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/andei-por-ruas-escuras-nadei-por-mares.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZcsLHwmxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/8MHp8UhD76o/s72-c/paper_heart__by_naduss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1464757031760343241</id><published>2009-07-21T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:22:05.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZbk-vVrfI/AAAAAAAAAFg/b0cdUg_MOtg/s1600-h/___book____by_a_n_o_m_a_l_i_a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361073097306123762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZbk-vVrfI/AAAAAAAAAFg/b0cdUg_MOtg/s320/___book____by_a_n_o_m_a_l_i_a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minha vida resume-se a&lt;br /&gt;Páginas em branco&lt;br /&gt;De um livro empoeirado&lt;br /&gt;Abandonado na estante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1464757031760343241?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1464757031760343241/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/minha-vida-resume-se-paginas-em-branco.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1464757031760343241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1464757031760343241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/minha-vida-resume-se-paginas-em-branco.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZbk-vVrfI/AAAAAAAAAFg/b0cdUg_MOtg/s72-c/___book____by_a_n_o_m_a_l_i_a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-8512387986933645933</id><published>2009-07-21T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:17:26.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZaeKNrjnI/AAAAAAAAAFY/ChG9vDhmmzQ/s1600-h/wolf_by_Yorvig.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361071880615464562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZaeKNrjnI/AAAAAAAAAFY/ChG9vDhmmzQ/s320/wolf_by_Yorvig.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Um momento solene&lt;br /&gt;O que eram dois&lt;br /&gt;Agora é apenas um&lt;br /&gt;Um monstro de quatro pernas&lt;br /&gt;Todas entrelaçadas&lt;br /&gt;Sussurros e gemidos&lt;br /&gt;Um momento animal&lt;br /&gt;De uma paixão carnal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-8512387986933645933?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/8512387986933645933/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-momento-solene-o-que-eram-dois-agora.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8512387986933645933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/8512387986933645933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-momento-solene-o-que-eram-dois-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZaeKNrjnI/AAAAAAAAAFY/ChG9vDhmmzQ/s72-c/wolf_by_Yorvig.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-6449669861738582943</id><published>2009-07-21T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:14:42.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZZy34DhoI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/2a8tUzn7VHM/s1600-h/Clock_Eyed_by_Dark1llusion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361071136958547586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZZy34DhoI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/2a8tUzn7VHM/s320/Clock_Eyed_by_Dark1llusion.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os ponteiros do relógio são incertos&lt;br /&gt;O tempo não pode ser preciso&lt;br /&gt;Sinto muito sua falta&lt;br /&gt;Apesar do pouco tempo&lt;br /&gt;Gostaria de novamente encontrar-te&lt;br /&gt;Sentir o calor de seu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;A força de sua presença&lt;br /&gt;Olho os casais que rodam&lt;br /&gt;Sorrisos e olhares de cruzam&lt;br /&gt;E os meus perdem-se no vento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-6449669861738582943?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/6449669861738582943/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/os-ponteiros-do-relogio-sao-incertos-o.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6449669861738582943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6449669861738582943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/os-ponteiros-do-relogio-sao-incertos-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZZy34DhoI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/2a8tUzn7VHM/s72-c/Clock_Eyed_by_Dark1llusion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-7722295105591179094</id><published>2009-07-21T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T16:56:56.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZVoTBoUaI/AAAAAAAAAFA/wUFgV0-78L0/s1600-h/Stop_time_III_by_vimark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361066557221392802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZVoTBoUaI/AAAAAAAAAFA/wUFgV0-78L0/s320/Stop_time_III_by_vimark.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O tempo. O passear mecânico de ponteiros sincrônicos. Uma invenção que domina a vida. Cada minuto percorrido é um instante perdido. Podemos passá-los de várias formas.&lt;br /&gt;Eu, por exemplo, passo frente a estas rosas tão belas. Aqui nesta poltrona, olho pessoas que transitam e imagino como cada uma encara o fim tão certo de suas desperdiçadas vidas.&lt;br /&gt;Um segurança parado a minha frente mantém sempre a mesma feição. Impõe o respeito por sua cara de gorila dominante. Será que ele tem família? Quando chega em casa e seus filhos correm para abraça-lo, ele os trata friamente, pois o trabalho, que lhe ocupa o dia todo, já corre por suas veias?&lt;br /&gt;Um grupo escolar com sua professora, fazem um trabalho de campo. Seus rostos de curiosidade são facilmente afastados pela tentativa de tomar maior destaque na hora da foto. Se hoje tentam aparecer mais, que tipo de adultos serão? Do tipo que pisoteia seus companheiros para ter maior destaque no momento de uma promoção empresarial.&lt;br /&gt;Um senhor, com uma calça social cinza, uma camisa rosa e uma boina italiana caminha com passos lentos admirando o caminho que passa. Esse é diferente. Tem um olhar distante. Talvez se lembrando de seus tempos de juventude. Tempo que aproveitou sabiamente. Arrependendo-se apenas de uma coisa, porém a mais dolorosa de uma vida. Arrependendo-se de nunca ter dito o quanto amava sua esposa e companheira antes que ela partisse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-7722295105591179094?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/7722295105591179094/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-tempo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7722295105591179094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7722295105591179094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-tempo.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SmZVoTBoUaI/AAAAAAAAAFA/wUFgV0-78L0/s72-c/Stop_time_III_by_vimark.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-4764418310785428647</id><published>2009-07-14T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T10:53:08.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SlzFIALBDQI/AAAAAAAAAE4/WHD4A_dxGks/s1600-h/fire_heart_fdogk45100207110607.gif.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358374397939879170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SlzFIALBDQI/AAAAAAAAAE4/WHD4A_dxGks/s320/fire_heart_fdogk45100207110607.gif.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Lembro de seu sorriso, calmo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Esperando uma resposta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Ainda lembro de sua mão carinho, reposando sobre a minha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Ninguem me tira da lembrança, seu beijo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Delirante como entorpecentes&lt;br /&gt;Recordo de tudo, cada movimento, cada gesto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;O que não me lembro, por que te deixei escapar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-4764418310785428647?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/4764418310785428647/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/lembro-de-seu-sorriso-calmo-esperando.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4764418310785428647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4764418310785428647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/lembro-de-seu-sorriso-calmo-esperando.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SlzFIALBDQI/AAAAAAAAAE4/WHD4A_dxGks/s72-c/fire_heart_fdogk45100207110607.gif.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-4689971273087220698</id><published>2009-07-14T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T10:30:05.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SlzAKk3MAPI/AAAAAAAAAEg/NV1TV7bUo-Q/s1600-h/condemned_walk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358368944590422258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SlzAKk3MAPI/AAAAAAAAAEg/NV1TV7bUo-Q/s320/condemned_walk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um longo caminho é percorrido na escuridão da noite&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sem luz, sem guia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma companheira me abandona&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sem pensar sigo em frente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não olho o que deixei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida continua&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Abaixo a cabeça&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma lágrima escorre&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Momentos de ternura e tristeza&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tento me recompor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;De longe tenho uma visão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Caminha em minha direção&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Por seus longos cabelos castanhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Escorre uma suavidade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A profunda transparencia de seu olhar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Consegue chegar fundo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Onde homem algum chegou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fecho meus olhos por um momento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A reflexão do surreal&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não era sonho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ele se aproximava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Em seu rosto pálido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sentia a leveza das nuvens&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Como se nelas adormecesse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sem nunca mais mais acordar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Em seus rubros lábios viajei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uma viagem a um lugar nunca explorado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Entre astros e planetas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sentimentos foram avivados&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A visão caminhava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E mais perto chegava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seu corpo transmitia a segurança&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;De todos os deuses&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mas por esse, meu corpo passou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Me virei para trás&lt;br /&gt;E ele continuou caminhando&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um sentimento de inutilidade me dominou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida voltou ao que era.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um longo caminho é percorrido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Na escuridão da noite&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sem Lua, sem guia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um sentimento de inutilidade me dominou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sem parar sigo em frente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não olho o que passou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida continua&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Caminhando até a morte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A um desconhecido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que um dia cruzou&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por meu caminho&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E deixou para sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A marca da Saudades.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-4689971273087220698?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/4689971273087220698/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-longo-caminho-e-percorrido-na.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4689971273087220698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/4689971273087220698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/um-longo-caminho-e-percorrido-na.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SlzAKk3MAPI/AAAAAAAAAEg/NV1TV7bUo-Q/s72-c/condemned_walk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5966706599592431139</id><published>2009-07-14T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T10:11:45.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sly74SmOACI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nzjMzvencQw/s1600-h/Soft_Blood.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358364232403255330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 218px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sly74SmOACI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nzjMzvencQw/s320/Soft_Blood.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O sangue me sobe a face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os nervos a flor da pele&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A raiva domina meu espirito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O controle me foge das mãos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O ódio, meu grande companheiro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A morte minha aliada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O seol por vós espera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Eu só vou adiantar a partida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida, um momento de luta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A briga por sobrevivência&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uns vão, outros ficam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seu destino está em minhas mãos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Minhas veias pulsando santam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Aviso para a batalha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Os gritos já são ouvidos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E deu sangue, por minhas mãos vertem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Corpos espalhados pelo chão&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A raiva vertida em morte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O ódio vertido em sangue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E seu corpo deixado aos abutres.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5966706599592431139?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5966706599592431139/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-sangue-me-sobe-face-os-nervos-flor-da.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5966706599592431139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5966706599592431139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-sangue-me-sobe-face-os-nervos-flor-da.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sly74SmOACI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nzjMzvencQw/s72-c/Soft_Blood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1637476254123618476</id><published>2009-06-24T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T12:54:34.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkKC0HTR0rI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/MKGi75Y1tyM/s1600-h/Poisoned_rose_by_tale_like_me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350983139094287026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkKC0HTR0rI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/MKGi75Y1tyM/s320/Poisoned_rose_by_tale_like_me.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O tempo passa&lt;br /&gt;Os dias já não pssuem&lt;br /&gt;O mesmo tempo&lt;br /&gt;Minha vida está desordenada&lt;br /&gt;Meus sentimentos bagunçados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O dia se desdobra&lt;br /&gt;As horas correm&lt;br /&gt;Cada vez mais rápidas&lt;br /&gt;quero estar ao seu lado&lt;br /&gt;Mas ainda não posso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os minutos voam&lt;br /&gt;Parecem segundos&lt;br /&gt;Não são mais iguais&lt;br /&gt;Sua presença me entorpesse&lt;br /&gt;Queria ficar mais tempo com você.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A noite se prolonga&lt;br /&gt;Queria dormir em paz&lt;br /&gt;Porém sua imagem não sai da memória&lt;br /&gt;Seu cheiro me inebria&lt;br /&gt;E o sono me adormece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os primeiros raios surgem&lt;br /&gt;O tempo passa&lt;br /&gt;O dia se desdobra&lt;br /&gt;Os minutos voam&lt;br /&gt;A noite se prolonga&lt;br /&gt;E nessa sincronia a morte se aproxima.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1637476254123618476?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1637476254123618476/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-tempo-passa-os-dias-ja-nao-pssuem-o.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1637476254123618476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1637476254123618476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-tempo-passa-os-dias-ja-nao-pssuem-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkKC0HTR0rI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/MKGi75Y1tyM/s72-c/Poisoned_rose_by_tale_like_me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-2745673798180364062</id><published>2009-06-24T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T12:40:56.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkKAb6qyV5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/tEaHsdFIBCY/s1600-h/The_Gate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350980524363110290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkKAb6qyV5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/tEaHsdFIBCY/s320/The_Gate.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O silêncio revela o lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;O vento batendo nas árvores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Folhas caem mortas no chão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ninguém se importa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Todos estão pálidos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Sentada no parapeito observo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pessoas que nada podem fazer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Deitadas em confortáveis camas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tentando sentir o que não mais bate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Onde está a vida?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Onde estão as cores?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Onde estão os sorrisos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Só do outro lado do portão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-2745673798180364062?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/2745673798180364062/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-silencio-revela-o-lugar-o-vento.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2745673798180364062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2745673798180364062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-silencio-revela-o-lugar-o-vento.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkKAb6qyV5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/tEaHsdFIBCY/s72-c/The_Gate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-2014565972209168507</id><published>2009-06-24T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T12:31:58.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkJ-flh1n3I/AAAAAAAAAEA/epuSIgyGj1A/s1600-h/SEGURANDO+A+LUA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350978388384653170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkJ-flh1n3I/AAAAAAAAAEA/epuSIgyGj1A/s320/SEGURANDO+A+LUA.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As coisas vivem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As coisas vibram&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Na palma de minha mão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A vida tenta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O bem aumenta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Me corpo lhe diz não.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Meus olhos choram&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Meus lábios exploram&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Um mundo de solidão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Minha garganta grita&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Meu peito palpita&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Não tenho mais coração.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Minha face cai&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Minha vida de esvai&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No meio da multidão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por Ana Carolina Giorgion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-2014565972209168507?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/2014565972209168507/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/as-coisas-vivem-as-coisas-vibram-na.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2014565972209168507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/2014565972209168507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/as-coisas-vivem-as-coisas-vibram-na.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/SkJ-flh1n3I/AAAAAAAAAEA/epuSIgyGj1A/s72-c/SEGURANDO+A+LUA.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-7450323316641313007</id><published>2009-06-19T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T09:22:20.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju6aPsjRWI/AAAAAAAAAD4/W5Wd7MiswsE/s1600-h/noite..jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju6aPsjRWI/AAAAAAAAAD4/W5Wd7MiswsE/s320/noite..jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349073942485353826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CCarolina%5CCONFIG%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PersonName"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:hyphenationzone&gt;21&lt;/w:HyphenationZone&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:70.85pt 3.0cm 70.85pt 3.0cm; 	mso-header-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Tabela normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;Um dia quente. Os raios do Sol invadem minha janela. Meu corpo, cansado, repousa meio ao fulgor desta luz. A brisa ligeira e mecânica do ventilador refresca meus pensamentos, trazendo o calor desta manhã. Não um calor qualquer, mas aquele causado por um encontro e deste um simples sorriso. Meu coração palpitante expulsa a inspiração que a muito estava adormecida. Minha mente divaga sobre sentimentos existentes. A crença do subjetivo falseia.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;Caminho pelas alamedas e vejo vultos, olho rostos, sorrisos. Nenhum se assemelha ao desejado. O silêncio, inevitável, faz-me ouvir as gargalhadas de meu subconsciente causando um arrepio. Tenho devaneios, imagino o improvável e durmo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;Os dias passam. O tempo não apaga da memória o calor de seu sorriso. Tento esquecer aquele dia, mas minha mente vadia e traiçoeira revive, em sonhos e delírios, cada segundo. Tento apagar-te com o esquecimento, mas fora marcado com fogo por momentos solenes. Trouxe-me de volta a inspiração, a vida. Palavras nunca usadas são abusadas. Busco o calor de um novo dia, vibro com a ânsia de um novo encontro e me perco na amargura da noite.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;As portas se abrem. As alamedas ficam cheias de pessoas. Fito cada ser, tento encontrar-te, mas é &lt;st1:personname productid="em v￣o. Vejo" st="on"&gt;em vão. Vejo&lt;/st1:personname&gt; sorrisos, olhos que brilham, mãos que se juntam, mas nada me apetece. A linha que um dia nos uniu, hoje nos distancia. O temido aconteceu. O tão esperado reencontro tornou-se desencontro. Meu peito aperta. Sinto um filete escorrer por minha face.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;Arrasto meu corpo para o sepulcro. Minha mão está pesada, mas une forças para a escrita. As palavras tentam juntar os estilhaços de meu coração. Adormeço meio a livros, canetas e cadernos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;O subconsciente falseia vejo-me andando por ruas escuras, nadando por mares revoltos, dormindo em camas maculadas e esperando-te para ter-te bem perto. Rindo dos dramas da vida, sonhando com beijos profundos, ocultando feridas antigas e nascendo para um novo mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POR ANA CAROLINA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-7450323316641313007?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/7450323316641313007/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/normal-0-21-false-false-false.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7450323316641313007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/7450323316641313007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/normal-0-21-false-false-false.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju6aPsjRWI/AAAAAAAAAD4/W5Wd7MiswsE/s72-c/noite..jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-3852201736629955426</id><published>2009-06-19T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T09:11:05.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju4jQ9p4aI/AAAAAAAAADw/vJeQH03KCuA/s1600-h/Noite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju4jQ9p4aI/AAAAAAAAADw/vJeQH03KCuA/s320/Noite.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349071898421092770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meia noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Meia noite&lt;br /&gt;Um céu sem lua&lt;br /&gt;Uma noite sem estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Ela caminha pela rua&lt;br /&gt;Sem destino&lt;br /&gt;Apenas um vestido negro no corpo&lt;br /&gt;E uma rosa na mão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por seu invejado rosto Pálido, como sem vida&lt;br /&gt;Lágrimas de sangue&lt;br /&gt;Escorrem por seus olhos verdes&lt;br /&gt;Lágrimas de abandono.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meia noite&lt;br /&gt;Um céu sem lua&lt;br /&gt;Uma noite sem estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Apenas um corpo sem amor&lt;br /&gt;E lágrimas de sangue&lt;br /&gt;Em seu peito&lt;br /&gt;Não mais um coração&lt;br /&gt;Mas feridas e marcas&lt;br /&gt;Sofrimentos de uma vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meia noite&lt;br /&gt;Um céu sem lua&lt;br /&gt;Uma noite sem estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Apenas lágrimas de sangue&lt;br /&gt;E marcas de sofrimento&lt;br /&gt;Uma mente entorpecida&lt;br /&gt;Lembranças de histórias vividas&lt;br /&gt;Histórias de abandono.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meia noite&lt;br /&gt;Um céu sem lua&lt;br /&gt;Uma noite sem estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Apenas um corpo sem vida&lt;br /&gt;Um corpo sem sangue&lt;br /&gt;Olhos verdes fechados&lt;br /&gt;Um coração parado&lt;br /&gt;E uma mente inerte&lt;br /&gt;Cobertos com um vestido negro&lt;br /&gt;E uma rosa no chão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;POR ANA CAROLINA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-3852201736629955426?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/3852201736629955426/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/meia-noite-meia-noite-um-ceu-sem-lua.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3852201736629955426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/3852201736629955426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/meia-noite-meia-noite-um-ceu-sem-lua.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju4jQ9p4aI/AAAAAAAAADw/vJeQH03KCuA/s72-c/Noite.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-6400141368235273076</id><published>2009-06-19T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T09:03:31.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju2vngzd6I/AAAAAAAAADo/1JcrL7Ny_Sk/s1600-h/distancia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju2vngzd6I/AAAAAAAAADo/1JcrL7Ny_Sk/s320/distancia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349069911609276322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LEMBRANÇAS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os dias passam&lt;br /&gt;Não apaga da memória&lt;br /&gt;O calor de seu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Tento esquecer aquele dia&lt;br /&gt;Mas minha mente é traiçoeira&lt;br /&gt;Revive em sonhos casa segundo&lt;br /&gt;Cria situações inusitadas&lt;br /&gt;Traz-me seus lábios sobre os meus&lt;br /&gt;Tento apagar-te com o esquecimento&lt;br /&gt;Mas fora fincado em rochas&lt;br /&gt;Por momentos solenes&lt;br /&gt;Trouxes-te-me de volta a inspiração&lt;br /&gt;Palavras nunca usadas são abusadas&lt;br /&gt;Sinto o fulgor da manhã&lt;br /&gt;Espero com anseio um novo dia&lt;br /&gt;Vibro com cada instante&lt;br /&gt;E os dias parecem meses&lt;br /&gt;A incerteza do reenconto me apavora&lt;br /&gt;Gostaria de dominar-te&lt;br /&gt;Mas nem mesmo a mim domino&lt;br /&gt;A única certeza que resta&lt;br /&gt;É a incerteza de minhas palavras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div  style="text-align: right;font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;POR ANA CAROLINA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-6400141368235273076?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/6400141368235273076/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/lembrancas-os-dias-passam-nao-apaga-da.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6400141368235273076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/6400141368235273076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/lembrancas-os-dias-passam-nao-apaga-da.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju2vngzd6I/AAAAAAAAADo/1JcrL7Ny_Sk/s72-c/distancia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-1343547104385176605</id><published>2009-06-19T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T08:57:31.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PROCURA-SE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju1FLIgC9I/AAAAAAAAADg/V9mYEwuhSJI/s1600-h/procura-se.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 313px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju1FLIgC9I/AAAAAAAAADg/V9mYEwuhSJI/s320/procura-se.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349068082925013970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CCarolina%5CCONFIG%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:hyphenationzone&gt;21&lt;/w:HyphenationZone&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:70.85pt 3.0cm 70.85pt 3.0cm; 	mso-header-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Tabela normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Tudo parece conspirar contra mim. Estou cansada desta solidão. Quero alguém que se orgulhe de mim, alguém que seja feliz por me ter ao seu lado. Preciso de alguém que recuse sair com os amigos, para chegar mais cedo em casa para fazer o jantar e me esperar ansioso.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Procuro uma pessoa que, sem motivos, me surpreenda com uma simples rosa. Só pelo prazer de me ver sorrindo. Quero aquele que espere na porta do meu serviço para me levar para caminhar e olhar a beleza da lua.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Simplesmente procuro um homem de verdade. Não daqueles que se encontra em qualquer parada de ônibus. Quero aquele que entenda meus momentos difíceis durante certos períodos.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Procuro um para afogar minhas lágrimas em seu peito e esconder-me em seus braços. Preciso de um que me domine nos momentos certo e que se deixe dominar quando necessário.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Exijo um homem de verdade. Um homem que saiba sorrir quando estiver feliz e que chore quando sentir dor. Que grite, pule, sofra e que acima de tudo me ame como sou.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Quero um homem que retribua todo amor que eu guardo a muito em meu peito.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Procuro não um príncipe encantado, pois sei que ele não existe. Mas sim aquele que me amará como mulher e me fará feliz.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;POR ANA CAROLINA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-1343547104385176605?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/1343547104385176605/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/procura-se.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1343547104385176605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/1343547104385176605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/06/procura-se.html' title='PROCURA-SE'/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/Sju1FLIgC9I/AAAAAAAAADg/V9mYEwuhSJI/s72-c/procura-se.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-140234852515928482</id><published>2009-05-21T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T08:35:28.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h2 style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: default;" id="m1218543076894" alt="" src="http://images.orkut.com/orkut/photos/OgAAAIPlF7HTTBJXGRvLirP2BCNsM6ljjofJdW-asktGNSBcMSyrRaAKEsMj_DTKM85GvUeAH-dSUSa1v0ujOIFj7VwAm1T1UOvJX5U_2NK2RkjXYpYdpIqc3yvs.jpg" width="267" height="400" /&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;h2 style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;h2 style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tu Me Salvaste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;h2 style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);" id="sz"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maná&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;S.O.S, he tocado fondo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Y no se cómo salir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; De este abismo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tengo el alma destrozada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Siento que no puedo seguir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Estoy perdido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tú me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Volví a nacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Cuando no creía en nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Volví a creer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Sanarás mi pesar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tu amor lo va a vencer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Alterados mis sentidos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; No recuerdo qué es reir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; No soy el mismo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Deprimido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Confundido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; No quedan ganas de vivir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Por qué Dios mío&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tú me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Volví a nacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Cuando no creía nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Volví a creer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Sanarás mi pesar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tu amor lo va vencer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Gracias por llegar a mí&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Gracias por estar aquí&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Yo juré que era mi fin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Gracias por amarme así&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Gracias por estar aquí&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; No se qué haría sin ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tú me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Sólo tú puedas salvarme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tú me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Volví a nacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Cuando no creía en nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; volví a creer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Sanarás mi pesar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tu amor lo va a vencer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Me salvaste del infierno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;        &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-140234852515928482?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/140234852515928482/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/05/tu-me-salvaste-mana-s.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/140234852515928482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/140234852515928482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/05/tu-me-salvaste-mana-s.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2770639837524745960.post-5460755858604540631</id><published>2009-05-20T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T10:35:22.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-family: georgia;font-size:180%;" &gt;"Nuestras dudas son traicioneras y nos hacen perder lo que, casi siempre, podríamos ganar, por simplemente tener miedo de arriesgar."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/ShQ_QIEzzhI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gUGOqjzkKIk/s1600-h/borboleta17.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/ShQ_QIEzzhI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gUGOqjzkKIk/s320/borboleta17.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337961004618993170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2770639837524745960-5460755858604540631?l=anaescritora.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/feeds/5460755858604540631/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/05/nuestras-dudas-son-traicioneras-y-nos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5460755858604540631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2770639837524745960/posts/default/5460755858604540631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anaescritora.blogspot.com/2009/05/nuestras-dudas-son-traicioneras-y-nos.html' title=''/><author><name>Ana Carolina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255928129378781045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/TTBZwI_XPJI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FnA4XrOc5r4/S220/933116_28632442.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_K267Q7cDVh4/ShQ_QIEzzhI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gUGOqjzkKIk/s72-c/borboleta17.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
