<?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-6851727925555141054</id><updated>2012-01-16T03:30:47.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tudo o que uma garota quer...</title><subtitle type='html'>É SER GAROTA PARA SEMPRE...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>59</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-1258338068486512140</id><published>2010-11-06T14:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T14:23:08.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chuva</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/TNXGaTe5gkI/AAAAAAAAAQw/wA4DQrF1LGc/s1600/27567_000ef8e1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 393px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/TNXGaTe5gkI/AAAAAAAAAQw/wA4DQrF1LGc/s400/27567_000ef8e1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536549472130662978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;A chuva caiu sobre o teto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Levou com  ela toda sujeira que não poderia ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Escorreu pelas paredes, pelos becos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molhou cada pedra, inundou caminhos.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respiro aliviada o ar puro, o frescor que adentra nos pulmões&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cerro meus olhos ao som dos gotejos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Desta canção que surte efeito aqui por dentro.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depois do peso o alívio vem sobre a lágrima&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sobre a mesma, o sorriso&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adormeço pensando, depois da chuva...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;o sono.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-1258338068486512140?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1258338068486512140/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=1258338068486512140' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1258338068486512140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1258338068486512140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/chuva.html' title='Chuva'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/TNXGaTe5gkI/AAAAAAAAAQw/wA4DQrF1LGc/s72-c/27567_000ef8e1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5768117861983343356</id><published>2010-04-13T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T07:53:06.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Metamorfose</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S8SCVfr6zhI/AAAAAAAAAQg/bGPbGdQBb0I/s1600/3172565.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459631954074455570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S8SCVfr6zhI/AAAAAAAAAQg/bGPbGdQBb0I/s400/3172565.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; Linda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Outrora não como agora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Estava a rastejar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Hibernou-se do mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Um tempo para si mesma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Para se revelar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sem dia, sem luz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A treva a cegar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sem terra, sem chão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sem estrela ao luar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Mal sabendo ela que o mundo embora não quisto, não visto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ainda estava lá, a sua espera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Daquela que mais bela nasceria...Borboleta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-5768117861983343356?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5768117861983343356/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5768117861983343356' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5768117861983343356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5768117861983343356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/metamorfose.html' title='Metamorfose'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S8SCVfr6zhI/AAAAAAAAAQg/bGPbGdQBb0I/s72-c/3172565.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2663961262450056368</id><published>2010-04-13T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T07:33:34.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doce  beijo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S8R_rM2I-LI/AAAAAAAAAQY/vUirTi7khP8/s1600/893452887_c06a5cf4be.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459629028439292082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S8R_rM2I-LI/AAAAAAAAAQY/vUirTi7khP8/s400/893452887_c06a5cf4be.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Teus lábios tão puros acariciam-me a boca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adoçam-me a língua &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me fazendo sentir sem pensar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Paraliza a razão e faz pulsar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E vai correndo ele, o coração&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Na pressa de fazer o tempo parar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vem sugando o ar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Numa calmaria, feito brisa ao mar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aperta-me em teus braços, segura em teus afagos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esqueço-me do mundo no anseio que  é amar. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FELIZ DIA DO BEIJO!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-2663961262450056368?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2663961262450056368/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2663961262450056368' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2663961262450056368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2663961262450056368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/doce-beijo.html' title='Doce  beijo'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S8R_rM2I-LI/AAAAAAAAAQY/vUirTi7khP8/s72-c/893452887_c06a5cf4be.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2945124634788253084</id><published>2010-03-23T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T11:42:04.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Infância</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6kLT8Fe69I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/C4pzgb9HY38/s1600-h/3509764.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6kLT8Fe69I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/C4pzgb9HY38/s400/3509764.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451901261083241426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Infância...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Tempo das brincadeiras, do sorriso despreocupado,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;da lágrima sem culpa;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Tempo do perdão verdadeiro, do coração puro,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;do desconhecido e da descoberta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Infância...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Tempo do carinho, do beijo mais doce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;da intenção singela, do apego...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;A luz sem treva;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;O amor sem maldade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Infância... tempo da inocência.&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/6851727925555141054-2945124634788253084?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2945124634788253084/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2945124634788253084' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2945124634788253084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2945124634788253084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/infancia.html' title='Infância'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6kLT8Fe69I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/C4pzgb9HY38/s72-c/3509764.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4014171446615533282</id><published>2010-03-19T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T12:12:33.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AMIZADE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6PIatS-jhI/AAAAAAAAAQI/lX25VSRC9VI/s1600-h/3478437.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450420335209778706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6PIatS-jhI/AAAAAAAAAQI/lX25VSRC9VI/s400/3478437.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A amizade é o amor na sua forma mais pura&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amigo, a outra mão, aquela que se estende no pedido de socorro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;E ainda que nada possa fazer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vai suportar bem mais a dor se ele estiver junto a você.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amigo o sorriso como reflexo de uma lágrima.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que te carrega quando se sente cansado&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;e leva às vezes seus problemas mais pesados com você.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sempre atento ao chamado&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Capaz das maiores besteiras, das mais bobas besteiras &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;por uma gargalhada só pra que se sinta bem.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amigo, o abraço mais que perfeito&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O olhar mais sincero &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A verdade mais penetrante.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amigo é de todo instante.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que te faz sentir único, que te faz sentir o melhor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que te faz enxergar o seu ego e a sua verdade como pessoa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amigo, tua existência me faz te querer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-4014171446615533282?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4014171446615533282/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4014171446615533282' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4014171446615533282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4014171446615533282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/amizade.html' title='AMIZADE'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6PIatS-jhI/AAAAAAAAAQI/lX25VSRC9VI/s72-c/3478437.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2059777440983587970</id><published>2010-03-17T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T08:22:54.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pensamento...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6Dywn5jt4I/AAAAAAAAAQA/r9BUPE2hdY0/s1600-h/mini_imagem07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 139px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6Dywn5jt4I/AAAAAAAAAQA/r9BUPE2hdY0/s400/mini_imagem07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449622466276341634" 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; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Sejamos dentro de nós como a montanha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Que venham os abalos a ideia é permancer firme.&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/6851727925555141054-2059777440983587970?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2059777440983587970/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2059777440983587970' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2059777440983587970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2059777440983587970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/pensamento.html' title='Pensamento...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S6Dywn5jt4I/AAAAAAAAAQA/r9BUPE2hdY0/s72-c/mini_imagem07.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4626085424585410001</id><published>2010-03-14T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T13:54:37.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia dela</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;" O poeta é um fingidor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;   Finge tão completamente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;   Que chega fingir que é dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;   A dor que deveras sente."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Fernando Pessoa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14 de Março Dia da Poesia&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/6851727925555141054-4626085424585410001?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4626085424585410001/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4626085424585410001' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4626085424585410001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4626085424585410001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/dia-dela.html' title='Dia dela'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-1095162113152502647</id><published>2010-03-13T10:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T10:50:18.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A RAZÃO</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5vc4FO_8JI/AAAAAAAAAP4/PhPnN8YVKqs/s1600-h/anjo_deprimido.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5vc4FO_8JI/AAAAAAAAAP4/PhPnN8YVKqs/s400/anjo_deprimido.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448191030270619794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Agora eu sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;A razão da gente estar aqui.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;O que nos faz diferente dos anjos é o AMOR.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;A possibilidade de amar.&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/6851727925555141054-1095162113152502647?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1095162113152502647/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=1095162113152502647' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1095162113152502647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1095162113152502647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/razao.html' title='A RAZÃO'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5vc4FO_8JI/AAAAAAAAAP4/PhPnN8YVKqs/s72-c/anjo_deprimido.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4141818783944565396</id><published>2010-03-10T05:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T10:11:39.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Escolha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5fgYMweHAI/AAAAAAAAAPw/5qpEaIN4x64/s1600-h/3425052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 249px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5fgYMweHAI/AAAAAAAAAPw/5qpEaIN4x64/s400/3425052.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447068980673911810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Deveríamos seguir sempre o mesmo caminho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Uma linha reta sem curva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Uma flor sem espinho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Sem desencontros, sem surpresa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Sem sofrer a alma, sem tristeza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas que graça teria o mesmo caminho?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Sem troca, sem risco, sem frio na barriga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;sem vento no rosto...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Que graça teria em andar sozinho?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas o problema não é o caminho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;"&gt;É a escolha.&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/6851727925555141054-4141818783944565396?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4141818783944565396/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4141818783944565396' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4141818783944565396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4141818783944565396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/escolha.html' title='Escolha'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5fgYMweHAI/AAAAAAAAAPw/5qpEaIN4x64/s72-c/3425052.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2728231893532350410</id><published>2010-03-05T06:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T07:04:39.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...Enquanto dure</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5EdNFrb-sI/AAAAAAAAAPo/IuFmHXyOcE0/s1600-h/img.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445165535167511234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5EdNFrb-sI/AAAAAAAAAPo/IuFmHXyOcE0/s400/img.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Há uma mistura de sentimentos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É dor... uma dor tão grande que aperta o peito&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;reprime o choro e as lágrimas vão caindo pouco a pouco.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Medo do que está a minha espera atrás da porta que deixei entre aberta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Está indo embora da minha vida e não quero vê-lo partir.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A dor se junta aos passos errados, a escolhas erradas &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se junta à contagiante alegria que era pertencer &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se junta a tristeza dos sorrisos perdidos, do olhar distante&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;De não dividir nem somar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tristeza. Ela entrou de mansinho e escureceu tudo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Estou cega e confusa, não quero errar o caminho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não quero perder você.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-2728231893532350410?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2728231893532350410/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2728231893532350410' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2728231893532350410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2728231893532350410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/enquanto-dure.html' title='...Enquanto dure'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5EdNFrb-sI/AAAAAAAAAPo/IuFmHXyOcE0/s72-c/img.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4222910986759748377</id><published>2010-03-04T10:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T10:52:00.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oscilando</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5AAJzBDLzI/AAAAAAAAAPg/NHl-IPq6z2Q/s1600-h/love_02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444852117804363570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5AAJzBDLzI/AAAAAAAAAPg/NHl-IPq6z2Q/s400/love_02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Tudo que conheço do amor é a tua dor grande e angustiante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Que a espera é cruel e fria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Que o sono se perde e ganham-se mais sonhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Que o tempo é extremo em sentidos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Tudo o que conheço do amor são suas cores coloridas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Seus olhos brilhantes, sua sede por vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sua voz gritante sem fôlego na partida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Um sopro, um vento de outono&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Vem e esparrama as flores da primavera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;O amor não é só encontro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;É perca... é renúncia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-4222910986759748377?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4222910986759748377/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4222910986759748377' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4222910986759748377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4222910986759748377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/oscilando.html' title='Oscilando'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S5AAJzBDLzI/AAAAAAAAAPg/NHl-IPq6z2Q/s72-c/love_02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8776221529869608567</id><published>2010-02-01T14:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T14:49:44.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Um dia de cada vez</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S2dZ00dZp1I/AAAAAAAAAPI/IdnZchscX1U/s1600-h/Planeta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S2dZ00dZp1I/AAAAAAAAAPI/IdnZchscX1U/s400/Planeta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433410239415822162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;E vem o amanhecer, o sol entra pelas frestas da janela. É dia lá fora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Os olhos se abrem junto com a esperança de que o hoje supere o ontem, surpreenda o passado. Eis o presente nascendo. Tememos o primeiro momento, e se ele começar ruim pode ser que todo o dia seja amaldiçoado por isto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Nele encontramos diversas pessoas... Boas ou más, todas são pessoas. As más tendem a escurecer o dia deixam o humor pesado, matam a alegria. Te puxam o tapete, te faz dar um tropeço, perturbam teu melhor sorriso. A essas pessoas desprezo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;E vamos cuidar do resto do dia, porque a alegria vem de dentro para fora.&lt;/span&gt;&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/6851727925555141054-8776221529869608567?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8776221529869608567/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8776221529869608567' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8776221529869608567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8776221529869608567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/um-dia-de-cada-vez.html' title='Um dia de cada vez'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/S2dZ00dZp1I/AAAAAAAAAPI/IdnZchscX1U/s72-c/Planeta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5576182452277765102</id><published>2009-11-24T03:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T03:34:46.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Impulso</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwvEbLmuA0I/AAAAAAAAANQ/Q10JbZPH1Yk/s1600/3037678.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407631748839113538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwvEbLmuA0I/AAAAAAAAANQ/Q10JbZPH1Yk/s400/3037678.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Antes que virasse completamente a esquina&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meu coração pediu pra que eu voltasse&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Corri as pressas como tua menina&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rumo ao teu encontro...Impulso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por outro abraço que me completasse&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas tu sumistes tão rapidamente&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Frustrei-me ao ver que não mais alcanças-te&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nossas lembranças inundou-me a mente&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meus pensamentos em ti repousas-te.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-5576182452277765102?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5576182452277765102/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5576182452277765102' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5576182452277765102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5576182452277765102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/impulso.html' title='Impulso'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwvEbLmuA0I/AAAAAAAAANQ/Q10JbZPH1Yk/s72-c/3037678.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-30778663645726260</id><published>2009-11-24T03:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T03:21:27.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aquele abraço</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwvBmXmJQgI/AAAAAAAAANI/VLvJzIeqL7Y/s1600/2249073569_14d10d01ae.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407628642501607938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwvBmXmJQgI/AAAAAAAAANI/VLvJzIeqL7Y/s400/2249073569_14d10d01ae.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;" Mesmo sabendo eu que eterno não seria&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Senti em meu peito dores que pareciam pedir para que fosse."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&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/6851727925555141054-30778663645726260?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/30778663645726260/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=30778663645726260' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/30778663645726260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/30778663645726260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/aquele-abraco.html' title='Aquele abraço'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwvBmXmJQgI/AAAAAAAAANI/VLvJzIeqL7Y/s72-c/2249073569_14d10d01ae.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5256001438240260877</id><published>2009-11-19T04:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T05:18:46.379-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AMOR MEU</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwVD-7IbMyI/AAAAAAAAANA/pc7EcDesyKc/s1600/1225146513087_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405801676032127778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwVD-7IbMyI/AAAAAAAAANA/pc7EcDesyKc/s400/1225146513087_f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Teu sorriso ilumina penetrante&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A minh'alma outrora triste está dançante&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por ter-te ao peito em meu abraço&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por ter-te inteiro, ter-te amante.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;És como a brisa a bagunçar-me os cabelos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Descontraído, faz-me mais forte que meus medos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ao teu lado solto a criança que há em mim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E para ti revelo todos meus segredos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amor meu, chamaste-me noutro dia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Este dia encheu-se de ardente alegria&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saber-me teu amor, ser teu amor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quero sê-lo completo, feito melodia.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pousas-te os lábios levemente sobre os meus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pelos cantos sutilmente despertas-te me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meus olhos brilham intensamente como os teus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fazendo a festa deste amor que enfim chegaste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-5256001438240260877?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5256001438240260877/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5256001438240260877' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5256001438240260877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5256001438240260877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/amor-meu.html' title='AMOR MEU'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SwVD-7IbMyI/AAAAAAAAANA/pc7EcDesyKc/s72-c/1225146513087_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2036185414318226761</id><published>2009-10-02T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T07:07:44.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O homem metrô</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsYI_iO_kcI/AAAAAAAAAM4/G5E9TSEfVR8/s1600-h/2968744.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388003891809849794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsYI_iO_kcI/AAAAAAAAAM4/G5E9TSEfVR8/s400/2968744.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Na vida estamos em constante passagem. Ninguém é fixo, ninguém é estável. Entramos na vida de alguém, deixamos marcas boas ou ruins, mas só as marcas são para sempre. Às vezes nossa passagem demora um tempo maior na vida de alguns, a ponto de não ser esquecida, a ponto de tornar-se importante. Quando alguém marca a nossa vida com a sua passagem, não se espera por sua partida, pois temos sempre em nós a sensação de que tudo é eterno. Daí o choque quando o telefone toca e anuncia a morte trágica daquele amigo que esteve com você no fim de semana passado, ou daquele que viajou de férias e você não teve tempo de se despedir, ou até mesmo daquele que se mudou para outra cidade e você perdeu o contato. Nunca esperamos. Essa é a realidade imutável. O coração humano é feito um metrô, tem gente entrando e saindo. Alguns voltam todos os dias, outros não mais. E como conduzir esse metrô...? Se não há como prender alguém em sua passagem. Mas há como fazer de sua passagem a melhor. A vida é inconstante... Incógnita. É isso que a torna interessante.&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/6851727925555141054-2036185414318226761?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2036185414318226761/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2036185414318226761' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2036185414318226761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2036185414318226761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-homem-metro.html' title='O homem metrô'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsYI_iO_kcI/AAAAAAAAAM4/G5E9TSEfVR8/s72-c/2968744.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-6117132685687936692</id><published>2009-10-01T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T08:50:08.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SobreVivendo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsTPkha7o5I/AAAAAAAAAMw/xDn2NC2tEs0/s1600-h/1733169975_aeab5f3eed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387659280595526546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 374px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsTPkha7o5I/AAAAAAAAAMw/xDn2NC2tEs0/s400/1733169975_aeab5f3eed.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsTPDV0mLQI/AAAAAAAAAMo/YJ8-n6j1FvY/s1600-h/006.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Se viver é deixar que as coisas aconteçam, então viver é perigoso.&lt;br /&gt;Difícil demais prever o futuro, difícil demais prever você.&lt;br /&gt;Isso me paraliza, me cala. Adormeço-me em meus pensamentos.&lt;br /&gt;Adormeço-me em meio a meu silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;Olho fundo em teus olhos e tudo o que vejo são enigmas.&lt;br /&gt;O que diz e o que faz se repelem.&lt;br /&gt;Não é medo o que tenho, talvez.&lt;br /&gt;Mas de não saber para que praia a maré esteja me levando.&lt;br /&gt;De repente eu possa não gostar.&lt;br /&gt;De repente possa ser deserta, eu fique só por lá.&lt;br /&gt;Só.&lt;br /&gt;Até que um dia como em todos os finais, a maré mude.&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu me arrisco nesse mar... Que me leve para onde for.&lt;br /&gt;Se viver é deixar que as coisas aconteçam, então viver é se arriscar.&lt;br /&gt;Sei que ao fim vou chorar...&lt;br /&gt;Que seja de alegria! Ou dor.&lt;br /&gt;Se viver é deixar que as coisas aconteçam, então eu vivo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-6117132685687936692?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6117132685687936692/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=6117132685687936692' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/6117132685687936692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/6117132685687936692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/sobrevivendo.html' title='SobreVivendo'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SsTPkha7o5I/AAAAAAAAAMw/xDn2NC2tEs0/s72-c/1733169975_aeab5f3eed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-3270859241095618646</id><published>2009-09-18T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T08:07:19.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Escolhas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SrOhi39SZ9I/AAAAAAAAAMg/hIUInzrzd3I/s1600-h/jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382823600146507730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SrOhi39SZ9I/AAAAAAAAAMg/hIUInzrzd3I/s400/jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aproveite bem seus momentos de alegria. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Porque as tristezas virão e não terá como se escapar delas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-3270859241095618646?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3270859241095618646/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=3270859241095618646' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/3270859241095618646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/3270859241095618646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/escolhas.html' title='Escolhas'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SrOhi39SZ9I/AAAAAAAAAMg/hIUInzrzd3I/s72-c/jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8815705552447216379</id><published>2009-08-06T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T08:48:01.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu primeiro amor  - Parte 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Snr6TatJiUI/AAAAAAAAAMY/F1C13smvyOo/s1600-h/032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366877117458516290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Snr6TatJiUI/AAAAAAAAAMY/F1C13smvyOo/s400/032.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Estava deitada em minha cama ontem à noite refletindo sobre as dores, desilusões e certa decisão que havia tomado. Veio-me a lembrança o meu primeiro amor e a decisão se fortaleceu, pedindo para que agisse de forma diferenciada. Não é justo esse acúmulo de aflições e frustrações.&lt;br /&gt;A visão veio aos poucos, embaçada e distante até se aproximar e eu conseguir vê-lo no primeiro instante em que fez meu coração bater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já fui para a escola alfabetizada por minha irmã. Eu adorava escrever, mas tudo o que conseguia nas minhas brincadeiras de secretária com a irmã da minha cunhada eram rabiscos, um caderno cheio de riscos de todos os tipos. Então pedi minha irmã que me ensinasse a ler e escrever. Começamos devagar e eu cansei logo, logo. Brincar de boneca era mais fácil. Dias depois, chegou à notícia que eu seria matriculada no pré- escolar com cinco anos. Foi uma festa para mim. Não me lembro ao certo o porquê, mas sei que não fui para o pré- escolar. Voltei aos estudos em casa, quando me dei conta já lia de tudo, já usava a matemática, e resolvia todos os exercícios das cartilhas que a minha irmã me trazia da escola onde ela lecionava. Nunca vou me esquecer da “Casinha feliz”, a cartilha que me ensinou a ler, a escrever e a amar esse mundo novo em que podia viver através das letrinhas.&lt;br /&gt;Minha irmã leu para mim numa  só noite o livro do “Rei linguão e o país dos avessos” e quando eu o li, o sabor e o prazer experimentados eram diferentes. Recordo-me do segundo livro, o “Trem fantasma”. Sempre viajei na leitura, nas personagens. Eu era todas se possível fosse.&lt;br /&gt;Depois da passagem de um ano no pré- escolar “Os três porquinhos”, aos sete anos fui para a primeira série.&lt;br /&gt;O primeiro dia de aula trás consigo a ansiedade, o medo, a insegurança. Todos esses sentimentos juntos capazes de provocar uma sensação esquisita no estômago. Mamãe me levou até a escola, me deixou com a minha nova professora, deu-me um beijo na testa e se foi. Sentei-me na fila do canto direito. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A “Elisa Cavalcanti” era uma gracinha, com as suas paredes todas em tijolinhos vermelhos, eu achava lindo. Depois de toda agitação, apresentação, finalmente a professora começou a escrever no quadro. O sol entrava forte pela janela, não tínhamos cortina, e os alunos do meio até o outro canto foram privilegiados com os raios ultra-viloeta. Eu olhei para lá, aquele sol forte nos meus olhos e logo eu avistei uma criaturinha sentada no meio. Sua pele branca estava rosada devido ao sol, seu cabelo loiro-escuro, lisinho estava meio grudado na testa. Uma gotinha de suor escorregava pelo canto do seu rosto. Ele estava altamente concentrado no que estava escrevendo do quadro. E eu alí, altamente concentrada no que ele estava fazendo com meu coração. Nunca senti meu coração pulsar tão rápido. Algo parecia gelar dentro de mim e tudo o que eu queria fazer era olhar para ele. Lembro-me das palavras que saíram displicentes naquele instante. “Que lindo... Meu Deus ele parece um príncipe.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-8815705552447216379?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8815705552447216379/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8815705552447216379' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8815705552447216379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8815705552447216379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/meu-primeiro-amor-parte-1.html' title='Meu primeiro amor  - Parte 1'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Snr6TatJiUI/AAAAAAAAAMY/F1C13smvyOo/s72-c/032.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4730419483947585079</id><published>2009-07-22T05:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T06:04:26.148-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SmcLxtz_ahI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/p9-QDbYMapI/s1600-h/039.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361266830147021330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 390px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SmcLxtz_ahI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/p9-QDbYMapI/s400/039.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; A vida está dançando...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela baila, baila comigo. Baila, baila contigo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela muda de ritmo, de respiração.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela transpira, respira, aspira.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Medo, euforia, segredo, alegria.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Como corda vibrante o amor é constante em tocar-te.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela corre, acelera a dança, o passo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela descansa... Às vezes dorme um pouco, deixa a música por si só.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E depois segue... Bailando entre choro oprimido, amor não correspondido, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;entre dor por um perdido...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bailando entre sonho realizado, entre amor encontrado e perdão concedido.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Correndo contra o tempo ou a favor dele.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela é constante.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela não cansa e não para.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E quando para morre e quando morre acaba e quando acaba é fim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-4730419483947585079?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4730419483947585079/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4730419483947585079' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4730419483947585079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4730419483947585079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/vida.html' title='A vida'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SmcLxtz_ahI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/p9-QDbYMapI/s72-c/039.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5216191268776551101</id><published>2009-07-16T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:55:39.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colha o Dia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl8_Sjie42I/AAAAAAAAAMI/LalqxFFQnkQ/s1600-h/011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359071669604246370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl8_Sjie42I/AAAAAAAAAMI/LalqxFFQnkQ/s400/011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;O selinhos eu peguei da blogueira Carla (&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://cafeteria24horas.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;http://cafeteria24horas.blogspot.com/&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Agora tenho de responder a seguinte questão: pra mim colher o dia é...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Viver o melhor que o hoje tem a te oferecer. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quando se vai há um pomar, você colhe somente os frutos bons da árvore. Pode até pegar algum que esteja ruim ou podre. No entanto vai descartá-lo, mesmo que tenha sujado suas mãos elas seram limpas novamente e estará focado nos melhores frutos da árvore.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Assim deve ser a nossa colheita cotidiana, colher a alegria e dos maus momentos os proveitos, as lições de vida. Fazendo do seu dia ruim algo positivo e proveitoso.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Boa colheita.&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/6851727925555141054-5216191268776551101?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5216191268776551101/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5216191268776551101' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5216191268776551101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5216191268776551101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/colha-o-dia.html' title='Colha o Dia'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl8_Sjie42I/AAAAAAAAAMI/LalqxFFQnkQ/s72-c/011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-706010585866691345</id><published>2009-07-15T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T08:48:13.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>É assim que você é pra mim</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl36Hzr9H2I/AAAAAAAAALo/T0KGkk8yD4Y/s1600-h/1901000502_07a136dc3d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358714143681355618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl36Hzr9H2I/AAAAAAAAALo/T0KGkk8yD4Y/s400/1901000502_07a136dc3d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl35ohoNNxI/AAAAAAAAALg/5y9sBzUcYUA/s1600-h/2249073569_14d10d01ae.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;É assim que você é pra mim:&lt;br /&gt;Você é o ima e eu sou a geladeira.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a meia e você o allstar.&lt;br /&gt;Você é os olhos e eu o colírio.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a goiabada e você o queijo.&lt;br /&gt;Você é o sorriso eu sou a gargalhada.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a brincadeira e você a diversão.&lt;br /&gt;Você é o frio eu sou o edredom.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o calor e você o suor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Você é o ritmo eu sou a dança.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a palavra e você o silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;Você é a melodia eu sou a canção.&lt;br /&gt;Você é a terra e eu sou a chuva.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o céu e você a estrela.&lt;br /&gt;Você é areia eu sou a conchinha.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o choro e você a lágrima.&lt;br /&gt;Você é o galã e eu sou a mocinha.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a sena e você o palco.&lt;br /&gt;Você é a manteiga e eu sou pão.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a mão e você o toque.&lt;br /&gt;Você é a língua e eu sou a boca.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o beijo e você o gosto.&lt;br /&gt;Você é o sonho e eu sou a alma.. o coração.&lt;br /&gt;E é assim que você é pra mim&lt;br /&gt;...Razão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&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/6851727925555141054-706010585866691345?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/706010585866691345/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=706010585866691345' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/706010585866691345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/706010585866691345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/e-assim-que-voce-e-pra-mim.html' title='É assim que você é pra mim'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sl36Hzr9H2I/AAAAAAAAALo/T0KGkk8yD4Y/s72-c/1901000502_07a136dc3d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2399667863738142708</id><published>2009-07-10T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T08:49:29.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Não deixe para amanhã</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sldi83pIZJI/AAAAAAAAALY/r-oaOKes8WU/s1600-h/020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356859079648634002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sldi83pIZJI/AAAAAAAAALY/r-oaOKes8WU/s400/020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Está muito frio lá fora. O dia começou com uma névoa e triste.&lt;br /&gt;Estive pensando essa madrugada... O amanhã é incerto.&lt;br /&gt;Pode-se prever, mas não ter certeza do amanhã.&lt;br /&gt;Pode-se planejar, mas não esperar que se concretize minuciosamente.&lt;br /&gt;Pode-se sonhar, mas não acreditar.&lt;br /&gt;Nos últimos dias meu coração tem dado algumas marteladas quanto ao deixar para amanhã. Quantas coisas deixamos para uma amanhã sem oportunidades.&lt;br /&gt;A vida é cheia de surpresas, pegadinhas, tropeços. A morte está logo atrás do fôlego de vida. Seguindo seus passos, sua fraqueza.&lt;br /&gt;Por isso, vamos ser mais tolerantes, mais pacientes uns com outros. Deixar para ficar bravo por um motivo que seja o motivo para se enfurecer. Gritar só em último caso e peneirar as palavras uma a uma, palavras são mais afiadas que uma espada de dois gumes. Elas atravessam a alma e ficam por ali roendo as cordas do coração, transformando-se em feridas difíceis de serem cicatrizadas.&lt;br /&gt;Não deixe para amanhã para pedir perdão. Para se arrepender. E se não houver amanhã para você?! Como vão ficar as pessoas que você ama mas que não sabem disso declarado em berros, em cochichos, seja como for?! Como vão ficar aqueles que você perdoou, mas o orgulho não lhe permitiu dizer?!&lt;br /&gt;Expresse... Se expresse. Doe seus sorrisos, abrace sempre. Procure sentir o calor do outro. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Beije, beije muito. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Por favor, perdoe. Aprenda a passar por cima de algumas coisas, se possível todas. O ser humano é falho, isso é fato. Errar é do homem mesmo, se a pessoa verdadeiramente se arrependeu perdoe, se não, perdoe assim mesmo. O caráter humano será sempre duvidoso. Quando não perdoamos alguém ficamos presos a essa pessoa, literalmente presos. Começa então a virar defunto em suas costas, a sugar a sua vida, suas forças, obscurecer sua alma. Perdoe logo e se livre desse defunto. Outra coisa, perdoar de fachada não vale. Coisas do tipo “eu perdoou, mas não quero vê-lo nem pintado de ouro”. Isso não é perdão meu caro, isso é ilusão. Portanto não se iluda. Perdoar de verdade é sentir-se capaz de abraçar outra vez, beijar a face, estar no mesmo ambiente sem olhares atravessados, sem aquela cara típica de que “nunca vou me esquecer do que você fez comigo”. Perdoar, como diz minha querida mãe, é esquecer. Perdoar é conviver novamente. Lógico que você não vai dar à cara a tapa, embora todos nós mereçamos uma segunda chance. Como disse Cristo, perdoe setenta vezes sete.&lt;br /&gt;Valorize mais aqueles que estão ao seu lado: seus amigos, as pessoas do seu ciclo, do seu mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Observe a chuva, o sol, o céu. Observe as pessoas, suas formas, seus jeitos, seus traços. Ninguém sabe se os seus olhos vão estar bonzinhos para sempre.&lt;br /&gt;O que estou tentando dizer é que a vida passa. Breve, veloz.&lt;br /&gt;Têm oportunidades que são únicas. Outras que nem chegam, mas se valer a pena, a gente cria oportunidades também. Não as deixe passar. Não seja um espectador da sua própria vida. Não deixe que o hoje seja um passado mal resolvido confiando na possibilidade de voltar atrás. Possibilidade é feito probabilidade. Não há uma resposta exata apenas uma aproximação da resposta. O que parece ser fácil pode se tornar muito difícil às vezes.&lt;br /&gt;Seja uma alma galopante, vivente. Não tenha muita pressa, nem seja muito devagar. Corra sob medida, sob controle. Tenha equilíbrio e mantenha-se.&lt;br /&gt;Extrapole de vez em quando.&lt;br /&gt;Experimento coisas novas.&lt;br /&gt;Adrenalina!&lt;br /&gt;Não se esqueça que o sorriso é uma porta aberta.&lt;br /&gt;E o mais importante, não deixe mais nada para amanhã.&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/6851727925555141054-2399667863738142708?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2399667863738142708/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2399667863738142708' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2399667863738142708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2399667863738142708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/nao-deixe-para-amanha.html' title='Não deixe para amanhã'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sldi83pIZJI/AAAAAAAAALY/r-oaOKes8WU/s72-c/020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8967778605340749704</id><published>2009-07-02T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T07:21:08.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diálogo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SkzCOLPzw-I/AAAAAAAAAI8/PU277KYPyKE/s1600-h/005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353867605829731298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SkzCOLPzw-I/AAAAAAAAAI8/PU277KYPyKE/s400/005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;- Ela não gosta de mim!&lt;br /&gt;- Muitas pessoas não gostam de você Alicia. - seu tom de voz e seu olhar quase me fizeram vomitar. Meus olhos encheram-se de tristeza. Estou cansada de importar-me com o que os outros pensam de mim. De morrer, de sofrer por ser eu mesma não ser o bastante.&lt;br /&gt;- Não, eu não quero ouvir o que você tem a dizer.&lt;br /&gt;Senti meus olhos se esquentando, às lágrimas travaram uma luta. “Tenho que ser forte. Alicia, por favor, não chore, não chore!” Luta travada e vencida. Agora tinha força para permanecer até o fim, entretanto tive de evitá-lo.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo nele me é atrativo. Seu cheiro... Seus olhos... Sua boca... Seus cabelos desgrenhados. “Tudo em você me faz te querer”.&lt;br /&gt;Saí de sena sem despedir-me. Pude ver que me olhava, esperava uma reação minha, um sinal. Nada. Fielmente entrei no carro, decida a não olhar para trás.&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/6851727925555141054-8967778605340749704?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8967778605340749704/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8967778605340749704' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8967778605340749704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8967778605340749704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/dialogo.html' title='Diálogo'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SkzCOLPzw-I/AAAAAAAAAI8/PU277KYPyKE/s72-c/005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-1063753359204871893</id><published>2009-06-26T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T09:09:27.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tristeza...por favor vá em- bo- ra!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ela correu para o seu quarto, fechou a janela mandando a luz embora. No canto ao lado da cama, bem escondida, sentou-se com os joelhos dobrados, escorou seu pescoço com os braços sobre a cabeça se pôs a chorar, a gemer, a oprimir os gritos que relutavam para sair. O soluço era o seu fôlego mais que doloroso. Aquela dor crescia a cada minuto. O plano era chorar ali até adormecer. &lt;/div&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-1063753359204871893?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1063753359204871893/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=1063753359204871893' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1063753359204871893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1063753359204871893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/tristezapor-favor-va-em-bo-ra.html' title='Tristeza...por favor vá em- bo- ra!'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5506954695737605783</id><published>2009-06-18T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T10:00:18.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amor que é Amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjpyI6d4ktI/AAAAAAAAAI0/1mXYh8hQo3s/s1600-h/b23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348713004915004114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 204px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjpyI6d4ktI/AAAAAAAAAI0/1mXYh8hQo3s/s400/b23.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Amor que é amor não se acaba&lt;br /&gt;Esgota-se, cansa.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se apaga&lt;br /&gt;Esfria-se, esconde.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não é só palavra&lt;br /&gt;É ação, é atitude.&lt;br /&gt;É ouvir calado, é responder com abraço.&lt;br /&gt;Cumprimentar com beijo&lt;br /&gt;É olhar com desejo,&lt;br /&gt;Com mistério.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se acende&lt;br /&gt;Explode-se, dispara.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se entende.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se espera&lt;br /&gt;Dá-se, doa-se por inteiro, por completo.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se mede&lt;br /&gt;Sente-se, vive.&lt;br /&gt;Intenso, com brilho, com luz.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se procura&lt;br /&gt;Espera-se, sem ânsia, sem pressa.&lt;br /&gt;Depois de uma noite escura&lt;br /&gt;Encontra-se, vibra, se apressa.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que é amor não se escolhe&lt;br /&gt;Planta-se, rega, colhe.&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/6851727925555141054-5506954695737605783?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5506954695737605783/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5506954695737605783' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5506954695737605783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5506954695737605783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title='Amor que é Amor'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjpyI6d4ktI/AAAAAAAAAI0/1mXYh8hQo3s/s72-c/b23.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-647731190485492138</id><published>2009-06-17T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T08:50:00.437-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Especular</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjkPoRLrbjI/AAAAAAAAAIM/KU8POVposKo/s1600-h/1768847.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348323216960745010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjkPoRLrbjI/AAAAAAAAAIM/KU8POVposKo/s400/1768847.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pude sentir teu cheiro&lt;br /&gt;De longe antes de entrar.&lt;br /&gt;Ainda não sei o porquê olhei para traz.&lt;br /&gt;Olhei-te tão pouco...&lt;br /&gt;Voltaste fugindo...&lt;br /&gt;Como se parte sua estivesse em outro lugar.&lt;br /&gt;Olho te outra vez&lt;br /&gt;Para investigar&lt;br /&gt;Para especular tua alma.&lt;br /&gt;Nada.&lt;br /&gt;É impossível te desvendar.&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/6851727925555141054-647731190485492138?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/647731190485492138/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=647731190485492138' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/647731190485492138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/647731190485492138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/especular.html' title='Especular'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjkPoRLrbjI/AAAAAAAAAIM/KU8POVposKo/s72-c/1768847.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5364591994813288349</id><published>2009-06-17T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T08:39:52.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tic, Tac, Tic, Tac...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjkOPOiDsKI/AAAAAAAAAIE/jFD8cE2EU4k/s1600-h/2378717.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348321687240945826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjkOPOiDsKI/AAAAAAAAAIE/jFD8cE2EU4k/s400/2378717.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por favor&lt;br /&gt;Segurem as asas do tempo&lt;br /&gt;Prendam-no em algum lugar, bem escuro para que não veja a luz.&lt;br /&gt;Segure suas pernas,&lt;br /&gt;Feche os seus olhos...&lt;br /&gt;Faça-o parar, insisto.&lt;br /&gt;Faça-o me ouvir, preciso.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-5364591994813288349?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5364591994813288349/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5364591994813288349' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5364591994813288349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5364591994813288349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/tic-tac-tic-tac.html' title='Tic, Tac, Tic, Tac...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SjkOPOiDsKI/AAAAAAAAAIE/jFD8cE2EU4k/s72-c/2378717.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2103434794577992332</id><published>2009-06-09T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T07:54:21.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pior que o destino</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si53FRXoHTI/AAAAAAAAAH8/oPgmi9ZNYhY/s1600-h/1243771488209_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345340740180909362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si53FRXoHTI/AAAAAAAAAH8/oPgmi9ZNYhY/s400/1243771488209_f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É ter que sorrir estando triste&lt;br /&gt;E estar triste sem ter alguém para dar-te um sorriso.&lt;br /&gt;É ter que dizer oi tendo vontade de permanecer em silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;É querer conversar e não encontrar um amigo.&lt;br /&gt;É como ter a resposta e se sentir perdido.&lt;br /&gt;É ter de abraçar sem querer calor&lt;br /&gt;É querer calor e não ter abraço.&lt;br /&gt;E ter de estar junto querendo estar só.&lt;br /&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É ser único em muitos e se sentir uma nada.&lt;br /&gt;É querer gritar e ter medo.&lt;br /&gt;É ter medo e não poder gritar.&lt;br /&gt;É correr sem fôlego&lt;br /&gt;E ter fôlego, mas poder correr.&lt;br /&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É andar em meio à escuridão sem luz no fim do túnel.&lt;br /&gt;É estar numa estrada sem rumo.&lt;br /&gt;É estar numa terra sem chão.&lt;br /&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É o amor que tenho.&lt;br /&gt;Tanto amor que explode,&lt;br /&gt;Feito fogos de artifício, feito estrela a morrer.&lt;br /&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É esse amor constante.&lt;br /&gt;Feito dor que não para de doer.&lt;br /&gt;Dor que não se acalma, que se expande.&lt;br /&gt;Feito enxurrada que não para de correr.&lt;br /&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É estar perto e ao mesmo tempo longe.&lt;br /&gt;É ser tocada e não poder tocar.&lt;br /&gt;É como estar vivo sem respirar.&lt;br /&gt;É Esse amor preso.&lt;br /&gt;Esse amor todo, inteiro.&lt;br /&gt;Pior que o destino&lt;br /&gt;É ter de guardar numa caixa, num livro, nas lágrimas, nas canções,&lt;br /&gt;Nos gemidos ao anoitecer...&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que queria dizer-te&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que queria mostrar-te&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tudo o que queria viver.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-2103434794577992332?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2103434794577992332/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2103434794577992332' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2103434794577992332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2103434794577992332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/pior-que-o-destino.html' title='Pior que o destino'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si53FRXoHTI/AAAAAAAAAH8/oPgmi9ZNYhY/s72-c/1243771488209_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-1836989903098788882</id><published>2009-06-08T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T08:21:59.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prisioneira do TeMpO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si0gpDh1yOI/AAAAAAAAAHs/HSfay6PTTm4/s1600-h/2604359.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344964222452615394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si0gpDh1yOI/AAAAAAAAAHs/HSfay6PTTm4/s400/2604359.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si0gcb3IkQI/AAAAAAAAAHk/_gkib1058EQ/s1600-h/2297190.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De olhos fechados&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Te vejo, te comtemplo...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Como queria ter-me enlaçado em teus braços&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E aquecido meu coração no calor do teu corpo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Posso sentir teu toque, de leve, de sonhos...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tua boca se aproxima, tímida, confusa...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tua respiração faz-nos um só fôlego.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Teus lábios me tocam, tua língua, teu gosto.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os sentidos se aguçam, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os batimentos pulsam e pulsam.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eis que sou a mais feliz das criaturas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sinto-me como uma brisa, de tão leve que estou &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em teus braços, tão cheios de amor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meus lábios agora são teus, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meu ser quer te pertencer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;É gritante o que sinto!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Podes não compreender.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Passeiam lágrimas em minha face.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Abrem-se os olhos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trazendo-me de volta ao martírio.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Espera mórbita&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Consome os momentos, desgasta-me a alma.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Aprisiona ao tempo...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que nunca se acalma.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-1836989903098788882?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1836989903098788882/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=1836989903098788882' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1836989903098788882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1836989903098788882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/prisioneira-do-tempo.html' title='Prisioneira do TeMpO'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Si0gpDh1yOI/AAAAAAAAAHs/HSfay6PTTm4/s72-c/2604359.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-810194082520105631</id><published>2009-06-05T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T06:36:17.084-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PArAlizA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SikfJNBD7tI/AAAAAAAAAHc/NuPsonjFnfQ/s1600-h/2326955.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343836675825200850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SikfJNBD7tI/AAAAAAAAAHc/NuPsonjFnfQ/s400/2326955.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Estou deitada num barco, sozinha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;De alguma forma sei que estou imobilizada. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Meus pensamentos estão concentrados no som que vem das águas; tão cristalinas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Vejo que o barco me leva sem rumo, mas não me incomodo, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;não tenho forças para tomar os remos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Fecho os meus olhos com lágrimas ainda quentes, expremendo-as ao sair.&lt;br /&gt;Desisto de pensar que alguém virá buscar-me... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Se quiser voltar, ei de voltar sozinha.&lt;br /&gt;No entanto, me refugio aqui... não tenho tudo o que preciso, mas basta.&lt;br /&gt;Ainda não é o momento, deixe que o vento me leve por mais um tempo&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/6851727925555141054-810194082520105631?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/810194082520105631/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=810194082520105631' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/810194082520105631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/810194082520105631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/paraliza.html' title='PArAlizA'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SikfJNBD7tI/AAAAAAAAAHc/NuPsonjFnfQ/s72-c/2326955.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-687040790307450996</id><published>2009-06-04T05:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T05:39:40.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prefiro acreditar que existe...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie_098UdpI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Kg297qvILP4/s1600-h/1611357.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343450399600047762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie_098UdpI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Kg297qvILP4/s400/1611357.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie_d9gPO6I/AAAAAAAAAHM/7hwdwZTaO_w/s1600-h/ES000017.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Em algum lugar no mundo, sei que existe alguém&lt;br /&gt;Em que me encontre em seus pensamentos,&lt;br /&gt;Embora eu seja tão comum&lt;br /&gt;Suas palavras tornam-me a mais bela das canções.&lt;br /&gt;E meu cheiro exala o suave perfume.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Busco um encontro constante&lt;br /&gt;Penso no compasso da sua respiração,&lt;br /&gt;E nas batidas do meu coração&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quando me achegar a ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revelar-te-ei meus segredos&lt;br /&gt;Sem medo de ser quem sou.&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo não podendo ver o brilho dos teus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Posso sentir minha imagem a se refletida em ti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-687040790307450996?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/687040790307450996/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=687040790307450996' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/687040790307450996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/687040790307450996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/prefiro-acreditar-que-existe.html' title='Prefiro acreditar que existe...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie_098UdpI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Kg297qvILP4/s72-c/1611357.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5531176727197115925</id><published>2009-06-03T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T05:09:50.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie5RzseabI/AAAAAAAAAG8/70-2egmzcV0/s1600-h/1243985320729_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343443198484048306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie5RzseabI/AAAAAAAAAG8/70-2egmzcV0/s400/1243985320729_f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chove.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os trovões soam alto&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ouço o barulho das goteiras.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O vento entra pela minha janela.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Há frescor,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;já que a dor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;arde um pouco mais.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A chuva é fina, delicada no seu desabrochar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Queria poder sair para fora&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E em instantes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Minha alma lavar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&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/6851727925555141054-5531176727197115925?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5531176727197115925/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5531176727197115925' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5531176727197115925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5531176727197115925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/chove.html' title=''/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sie5RzseabI/AAAAAAAAAG8/70-2egmzcV0/s72-c/1243985320729_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4865858958508649350</id><published>2009-06-02T06:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T08:05:29.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*HoMo SaPienS*</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SiU4uEP39JI/AAAAAAAAAF8/8AlbtW6s5nU/s1600-h/PRMIO_~1.JPE"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342738897010422930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 189px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SiU4uEP39JI/AAAAAAAAAF8/8AlbtW6s5nU/s400/PRMIO_~1.JPE" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Este selinho acima eu recebi da amada Carla (&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://cafeteria24horas.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;http://cafeteria24horas.blogspot.com/&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;). Ela é um show com as palavras. Vale muito a pena visitar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"O prêmio é destinado aos blogs que “demonstram talento, seja nas artes, nas letras, nas ciências, na poesia ou em qualquer outra área e que, com isso, enriquecem a blogosfera e a vida dos leitores".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As regras são:1 - O premiado deverá expôr o selo no seu bloge atribuí-lo a 7 outros blogs que considere merecedores.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2 - O premiado deverá responder à seguinte pergunta: O que significa para si ser um Homo sapiens?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Repasso então para:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Rico Salles (&lt;a href="http://ricosalles.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://ricosalles.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Quase Trinta (&lt;a href="http://chegandonostrinta.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://chegandonostrinta.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Rod (&lt;a href="http://do-gmas.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://do-gmas.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Henrique Monteiro (&lt;a href="http://henriquem.blogspot.com/2009/05/xeque-mate.html"&gt;http://henriquem.blogspot.com/2009/05/xeque-mate.html&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Raskólhnikov (&lt;a href="http://endsky.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://endsky.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lili (&lt;a href="http://segredosesaudades.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://segredosesaudades.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Carol (&lt;a href="http://palavrasdisponiveis.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://palavrasdisponiveis.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2=/ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Um humano, ser humano, pessoa ou homem é um membro da &lt;a title="Espécie" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/EspÃ©cie"&gt;espécie&lt;/a&gt; de &lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Primata" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Primata"&gt;primata&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a title="Bípede" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/BÃ&amp;shy;pede"&gt;bípede&lt;/a&gt; Homo sapiens, pertencente ao género &lt;a title="Homo" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo"&gt;Homo&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="Família" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/FamÃ&amp;shy;lia"&gt;família&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a title="Hominidae" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hominidae"&gt;Hominidae&lt;/a&gt; (&lt;a title="Nomenclatura binomial" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nomenclatura_binomial"&gt;taxonomicamente&lt;/a&gt; Homo sapiens - &lt;a title="Latim" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latim"&gt;latim&lt;/a&gt;: "homem sábio"). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Os membros dessa espécie têm um &lt;a title="Cérebro humano" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/CÃ©rebro_humano"&gt;cérebro&lt;/a&gt; altamente desenvolvido, com inúmeras capacidades como o &lt;a title="Abstração" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/AbstraÃ§Ã£o"&gt;raciocínio abstrato&lt;/a&gt;, a &lt;a title="Linguagem" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Linguagem"&gt;linguagem&lt;/a&gt;, a &lt;a title="Introspecção" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/IntrospecÃ§Ã£o"&gt;introspecção&lt;/a&gt; e a resolução de &lt;a title="Problema" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Problema"&gt;problemas&lt;/a&gt;. Esta capacidade mental, associada a um corpo ereto possibilitaram o uso dos &lt;a title="Braço" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/BraÃ§o"&gt;braços&lt;/a&gt; para manipular &lt;a title="Objeto" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Objeto"&gt;objetos&lt;/a&gt;, fator que permitiu aos humanos a criação e a utilização de &lt;a title="Ferramenta" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferramenta"&gt;ferramentas&lt;/a&gt; para alterar o &lt;a title="Ambiente" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ambiente"&gt;ambiente&lt;/a&gt; a sua volta mais do que qualquer outra &lt;a title="Espécie" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/EspÃ©cie"&gt;espécie&lt;/a&gt; de &lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Ser vivo" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ser_vivo"&gt;ser vivo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..................... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quem me dera fosse assim tão simples.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Homem, sujeito feito de carne, osso, emoção, confusão, alteração...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Humano é mais que um cérebro;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Muitas vezes odeia ser o que é, odeia ter vindo prá cá, quer sumir.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;É mais que braços, pernas, raciocínio, linguagem.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;É vida, coração pulsante, suor, sofrimento, lágrimas(quantas e quantas), dor, muita dor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;É alegria, sorriso, brilho no olhar, desejo, sexo, batimentos graves, pesados...Uma mistura de sensações, reações. Medos e insegurança em não se entender, do não saber.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Humano é se descobrir, a cada dia... é morrer dignamente, depois de ter o fruto em seu ventre e a vida em suas mãos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Beijo a todos os Homo Sapiens dessa Terra Nostra.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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/6851727925555141054-4865858958508649350?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4865858958508649350/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4865858958508649350' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4865858958508649350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4865858958508649350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/homo-sapiens.html' title='*HoMo SaPienS*'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SiU4uEP39JI/AAAAAAAAAF8/8AlbtW6s5nU/s72-c/PRMIO_~1.JPE' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-1060415856654939076</id><published>2009-05-29T06:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T07:03:02.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O mundo dá vOltAs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh_q5MvuvkI/AAAAAAAAAFk/N8gjnj_AaQc/s1600-h/59459E821BB9745973CBBCD4C625B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341245951479561794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh_q5MvuvkI/AAAAAAAAAFk/N8gjnj_AaQc/s400/59459E821BB9745973CBBCD4C625B.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh_qu9wnxSI/AAAAAAAAAFc/CAlXewv9yps/s1600-h/pq10546ferro.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O tempo realmente não pára.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anda, tropeça, cai, se machuca, se levanta, se ergue.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O mundo não se importa com a sua dor, não se importa em ferir a ferida.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Se há lágrimas, como um rio...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;É preciso impinar o nariz nessas horas, é preciso cantar uma canção de disfarce.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Seja como for a canção, ela ajuda a fortalecer a máscara, a desenferrujar o escudo protetor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sei como se sente. Não é essa à sua vontade.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nem à minha.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O mundo dá voltas. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Espero que saiba.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-1060415856654939076?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1060415856654939076/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=1060415856654939076' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1060415856654939076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1060415856654939076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-mundo-da-voltas.html' title='O mundo dá vOltAs'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh_q5MvuvkI/AAAAAAAAAFk/N8gjnj_AaQc/s72-c/59459E821BB9745973CBBCD4C625B.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-6861800210297954351</id><published>2009-05-28T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T05:34:14.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Devaneios!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh6Ekfo6RCI/AAAAAAAAAFU/OVnJine_rdw/s1600-h/2234373.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340851970611233826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 307px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh6Ekfo6RCI/AAAAAAAAAFU/OVnJine_rdw/s400/2234373.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feito o primeiro Sol entrando em minha casa&lt;br /&gt;Você entrou em minha vida&lt;br /&gt;Irradiando meu sonho.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me leve quando está por perto&lt;br /&gt;Só mesmo você para me fazer flutuar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não posso te tocar...(ainda)&lt;br /&gt;Mas torno isso possível&lt;br /&gt;Se eu fechar os olhos e sonhar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-6861800210297954351?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6861800210297954351/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=6861800210297954351' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/6861800210297954351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/6861800210297954351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/devaneios.html' title='Devaneios!'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh6Ekfo6RCI/AAAAAAAAAFU/OVnJine_rdw/s72-c/2234373.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5448855327565714405</id><published>2009-05-28T05:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T05:25:42.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coisa de 'URUBU'</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Era só o que me faltava!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Na terça- feira a tarde, fui dar uma volta com a minha irmã e a Mel (minha sobrinha predileta).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Na volta do passeio, o céu azul, as nuvés branquinhas e ...ploft.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quase não acreditei na premiação. Será que poderia ficar pior!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Caca de urubuuu!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Duas pessoas disseram-me que é SORTE! Opa, já gostei. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Outro infusado disse que caí o cabelo, e foi logo na franja!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Aff! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que venha à sorte então, que venha a virada em minha vida.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Se for assim, quero uma "Caca" dessas toda semana.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;rsrs...=D&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que bizarro!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-5448855327565714405?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5448855327565714405/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5448855327565714405' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5448855327565714405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5448855327565714405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/coisa-de-urubu.html' title='Coisa de &apos;URUBU&apos;'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5982336240296461476</id><published>2009-05-27T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T05:53:47.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O Ciclo #</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh03tyOJz_I/AAAAAAAAAFM/yn0g7UoEcFc/s1600-h/imagem29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340485992846053362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh03tyOJz_I/AAAAAAAAAFM/yn0g7UoEcFc/s400/imagem29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Depois de um temporal, de toda aquela ventania, o tempo se acalma. É hora de juntar os destroços, de salvar o que não foi totalmente destruído. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Restam poucas coisas. As que você tem mais amor, são as primeiras a serem destruídas. Vêem as lágrimas... A dor... A angústia de não se poder fazer nada. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vem o cochilo, onde não mais se importa, o mundo pode desabar outra vez e você nem...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O amanhecer esquentando o coração, fortalecendo a alma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Se põe de pé, já firme. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Os primeiros passos são os mais dificeis, há dor ao lembrar-se da tragédia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A mão amiga, o apoio, e lá vamos nós outra vez. Tudo outra vez.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E a vida segue. E a vida continua... e continua.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-5982336240296461476?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5982336240296461476/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5982336240296461476' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5982336240296461476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5982336240296461476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-ciclo.html' title='O Ciclo #'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sh03tyOJz_I/AAAAAAAAAFM/yn0g7UoEcFc/s72-c/imagem29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8209009650372325114</id><published>2009-05-19T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T07:04:12.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"PoBeMa"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/ShKx79CXjtI/AAAAAAAAAFE/Q8XTfKU6LYE/s1600-h/10038banco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337524151942352594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/ShKx79CXjtI/AAAAAAAAAFE/Q8XTfKU6LYE/s400/10038banco.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/ShKvNFdF_oI/AAAAAAAAAE8/7jN7X1XugK8/s1600-h/200565396-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/ShKu835mpAI/AAAAAAAAAE0/0fPlUaT_LOQ/s1600-h/ES000017.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ai, ai... Mal consigo respirar. Não sei qual dos lados dói mais. O de dentro ou de fora?! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A gente sempre erra na intenção de acertar. Eu errei, é difícil admitir prá mim mesma meu surto de burrice! Agora já era. As consequências é que vieram cedo demais! Mal pude respirar...já tive que recuperar o fôlego. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Essa dor de cabeça que não passa, essa febre que não vai embora e esse coraçãozinho que não pára de chorar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Eu não queria que as coisas tivessem ido por este caminho, na verdade, nem pensei que perderia o caminho. Tudo estava perfeito, azul como o céu. De repente o mesmo céu, outrora azul, se fez negro, sem estrelas, sem lua, sem o brilho que era ter você em minha vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Te sinto distante. Não te culpo por isso. Quem mandou ser inocente, quem mandou confiar. Foi a "cobra" mais linda que conheci, veio encantadora, sorridente, confidente... até estranhei depois de tanta rejeição. No entanto, a acolhi de braços abertos e de peito também. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Precisava tanto desabar, pôr prá fora o que se passava, relatei meu sonho a quem intencionalmente queria destruí-lo. Maldita inocência!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Me sinto vazia sem você. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E agora?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nem sei que atitude tomar, porque vejo que também fostes envenenado por ela.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Socorro!!! Meu teto desabou de vez.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-8209009650372325114?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8209009650372325114/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8209009650372325114' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8209009650372325114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8209009650372325114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/pobema.html' title='&quot;PoBeMa&quot;'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/ShKx79CXjtI/AAAAAAAAAFE/Q8XTfKU6LYE/s72-c/10038banco.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5713627102908509867</id><published>2009-05-12T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T07:08:45.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apressa-te meu Amado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SgmCiiWTj0I/AAAAAAAAAEs/6PxTwg5oKwE/s1600-h/2252487.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334938763444588354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SgmCiiWTj0I/AAAAAAAAAEs/6PxTwg5oKwE/s400/2252487.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Onde estará o meu Amado&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que não chega, não se apressa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Espera incasável, furta-me o sono...os sonhos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Estes são teus, já consumistes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A noite vaga no tempo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A lua muda neste teu silêncio&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O céu não responde &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Onde estás a passar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perco-me em devaneios&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;É loucura.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Penso em não pensar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Possuída por meus pensamentos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ilúcido encontro será&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;De lágrimas saltitantes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Teus braços vão abraçar-me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;E poder-te-ei ir ao teu encontro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Teus lábios ei de tocar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Degustá-los como o mais puro vinho.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ser tragada, presa a teus olhos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Delírios... em meio a delírios.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Onde estará o meu Amado&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que não chega...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para dar-me o amor esperado&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que um dia ousei a sonhar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&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/6851727925555141054-5713627102908509867?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5713627102908509867/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5713627102908509867' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5713627102908509867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5713627102908509867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/apressa-te-meu-amado.html' title='Apressa-te meu Amado'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SgmCiiWTj0I/AAAAAAAAAEs/6PxTwg5oKwE/s72-c/2252487.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-3555344924603598156</id><published>2009-05-11T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T07:29:06.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Viver é melhor que sonhar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sgg1UgAF3sI/AAAAAAAAAEc/3T0fHIk0cHo/s1600-h/2272370.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334572384924327618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sgg1UgAF3sI/AAAAAAAAAEc/3T0fHIk0cHo/s400/2272370.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Junte-se a mim os sonhadores de plantão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vale ou não vale, eis a questão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sonhos que se perdem na estrada&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sonhos que não vale mais nada.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sonhos que não se esqueceu&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sonhos que já morreu&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sonhos que chegam, que vão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;que entram e saem e ficam onde estão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Viver é melhor que sonhar". &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pensei e pensei...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Todas as vezes que sonho,  faço planos, nada acontece como eu quero.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;De repente se eu deixar de planejar, de sonhar, será que a vida passa a acontecer...?!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-3555344924603598156?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3555344924603598156/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=3555344924603598156' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/3555344924603598156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/3555344924603598156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/viver-e-melhor-que-sonhar.html' title='Viver é melhor que sonhar'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/Sgg1UgAF3sI/AAAAAAAAAEc/3T0fHIk0cHo/s72-c/2272370.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5335406107596048719</id><published>2009-04-30T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T06:52:29.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alguém ...por Fernanda Brum</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SfmtDxFC11I/AAAAAAAAAEU/rdCFAct8hQk/s1600-h/2305435.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330481914195400530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SfmtDxFC11I/AAAAAAAAAEU/rdCFAct8hQk/s400/2305435.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;É melhor parar de me perguntar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os meus sonhos não revelo a ninguém&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Todos os meus segredos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guardados estão no meu coração&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me enganei confiando tanto&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me entregando à paixão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas em Deus quebra-se o encanto&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;De uma amarga ilusão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alguém falou que&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu não ia ser ninguém&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas Deus mostrou que&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu iria muito além&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Palavras não me fazem mais&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perder o chão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Estrada, estou seguindo em sua direção.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-5335406107596048719?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5335406107596048719/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5335406107596048719' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5335406107596048719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5335406107596048719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/alguem-por-fernanda-brum.html' title='Alguém ...por Fernanda Brum'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SfmtDxFC11I/AAAAAAAAAEU/rdCFAct8hQk/s72-c/2305435.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2079299114496036367</id><published>2009-04-29T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T10:59:00.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pobre coração</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SfheThXnjQI/AAAAAAAAAEM/rqtQxraNGUE/s1600-h/2256143.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330113848460938498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SfheThXnjQI/AAAAAAAAAEM/rqtQxraNGUE/s400/2256143.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sei que chorar não adianta mais&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;o vendaval passou... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas o vento ainda sopra forte!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;meu corpo desfalece, perco as forças.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Onde está? Onde está?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;essa demora incansável tem sugado meu fôlego&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;poderia surgir numa esquina, num lugar, num momento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;poderia ser um choque, uma dor alegre sem sofrimento.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não procuro, se tudo que vejo &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;são meus olhos negros no espelho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;refletindo a escuridão do meu coração&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se soa melancolico, não me importo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;pois repouso num poço de melancolia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se esperar é eternamente dificil&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;espero que amar ainda seja possível&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;espero mais... ser presenteada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;por uma amor possível e eterno.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-2079299114496036367?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2079299114496036367/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2079299114496036367' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2079299114496036367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2079299114496036367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/pobre-coracao.html' title='Pobre coração'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SfheThXnjQI/AAAAAAAAAEM/rqtQxraNGUE/s72-c/2256143.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8147914375529199398</id><published>2009-03-06T12:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T12:49:00.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Não espero</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SbFGCK9StdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jLH3yzX-OvM/s1600-h/2244769.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310102438761641426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SbFGCK9StdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jLH3yzX-OvM/s400/2244769.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SbFF0i6Ha2I/AAAAAAAAAD8/hYpIr-E2Y_c/s1600-h/pq10401flor4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não espero alguém que me traga flores&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas alguém que me trate como flor,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;que me regue todos os dias, que me dê Sol, que me dê sombra&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;que saiba podar-me no tempo certo, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;que contemple minha beleza e note com precisão o nascer de um botão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que respeite o meu silêncio, mas que nunca falte ao entardecer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alguém que sorria para eu calar o choro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que fique de mãos dadas até suarem os dedos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que me abrace forte quando eu sentir medo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alguém que se emocione, que grite, que vibre!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que olhe nos olhos...que responda com eles se lhe faltar palavras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alguém que respeite o meu sofrimento e leve a sério as minhas crises&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que me pegue no colo...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E que seja capaz de uma canção de amor!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-8147914375529199398?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8147914375529199398/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8147914375529199398' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8147914375529199398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8147914375529199398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/03/nao-espero.html' title='Não espero'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SbFGCK9StdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jLH3yzX-OvM/s72-c/2244769.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-18387775013231246</id><published>2009-01-22T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T13:10:00.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CAPÍTULO 01/pág01</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SXiNCp2NsUI/AAAAAAAAADs/UjB9EYqrARo/s1600-h/2253477.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294136438706516290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SXiNCp2NsUI/AAAAAAAAADs/UjB9EYqrARo/s400/2253477.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;&lt;&lt;o&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deitada na grama, olhando para o céu tão azul, tão lindo. Suspirando um suspiro de expectativas, de sonhos, muitos sonhos. É tão bom sonhar, triste quando os sonhos se frustram, se fundem numa explosão constante de sentimentos e se perdem. A dor é inevitável.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ainda olhando para o céu e suspirando agora profundamente, lembrei-me de uma frase do meu ex-professor de geografia do colegial.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Estava sentada numa das calçadas que davam para as salas do andar de cima, ele se aproximou de mim, desafiando meu olhar triste, nada me chamava atenção além da minha tristeza.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- O que você tem? - ignorei seu olhar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Estou triste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por um único instante pensei que ele fosse me abraçar e me consolar, mas não.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Já parou para pensar que você deve ter mais motivos para estar feliz?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ele saiu logo após suas palavras, deixando-me sem o direito de resposta.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meus pensamentos então puseram-se a dançar em minha mente, pensava em tudo que me fazia feliz e esse "tudo" crescia a cada momento. De repente, minha tristeza havia sumido e o meu problema deixará de ser um problema sem solução.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Voltando dos meus devaneios, percebi o quanto é bom meditar, o quanto é bom ouvir os conselhos que tenho pra mim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me levantei mais forte daquele jardim. Peguei os meus livros e voltei cantarolando para casa.&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/6851727925555141054-18387775013231246?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/18387775013231246/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=18387775013231246' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/18387775013231246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/18387775013231246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/captulo-01pg01.html' title='CAPÍTULO 01/pág01'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SXiNCp2NsUI/AAAAAAAAADs/UjB9EYqrARo/s72-c/2253477.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-984764847650068031</id><published>2009-01-21T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T06:29:35.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...Coração parTido...</title><content type='html'>Tentei fugir, me esconder&lt;br /&gt;Fechar os olhos para o que estava estampado a minha frente&lt;br /&gt;Você estava indo... não percebi.&lt;br /&gt;Só me dei conta depois do Adeus.&lt;br /&gt;Agora há um buraco em mim,&lt;br /&gt;um vazio maior...&lt;br /&gt;maior que a saudade, maior que o medo,&lt;br /&gt;um vazio do tamanho da minha dor.&lt;br /&gt;Sua indiferença me consome, suga os meus dias&lt;br /&gt;o meu fôlego a cada manhã.&lt;br /&gt;Não sou mais digna de um sorriso teu,&lt;br /&gt;seu olhar se desvia do meu&lt;br /&gt;estou desfalecendo...&lt;br /&gt;Se amar é sofrer para que serve afinal?!&lt;br /&gt;Apunha-lá me de uma vez por todas!&lt;br /&gt;mas não me mate aos pouquinhos...&lt;br /&gt;O Sol escureceu...&lt;br /&gt;o tempo está fechado...&lt;br /&gt;ao menos por enquanto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-984764847650068031?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/984764847650068031/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=984764847650068031' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/984764847650068031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/984764847650068031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/corao-partido_21.html' title='...Coração parTido...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-2825786602943457856</id><published>2008-12-01T06:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T06:54:57.582-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Um dia inteiro...!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/STP6qVmEkZI/AAAAAAAAADU/1CJL5gnNRtU/s1600-h/mulher_feliz_70a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274835193839260050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/STP6qVmEkZI/AAAAAAAAADU/1CJL5gnNRtU/s400/mulher_feliz_70a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Como seria um dia inteiro feliz?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sim, sem nenhuma chateação, sem fechar os olhos para nada, sem palavras que realmente viessem nos entristecer. Sem aparecer aquela pessoa chata da lista negra. Sem nada que alterasse o seu bom humor, sem nada que te frustasse.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Será que existe um dia inteiro feliz?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-2825786602943457856?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2825786602943457856/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=2825786602943457856' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2825786602943457856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/2825786602943457856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/um-dia-inteiro.html' title='Um dia inteiro...!'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/STP6qVmEkZI/AAAAAAAAADU/1CJL5gnNRtU/s72-c/mulher_feliz_70a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-3359799767970196220</id><published>2008-11-28T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T11:57:01.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Não é tão dicícil perceber"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-3359799767970196220?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3359799767970196220/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=3359799767970196220' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/3359799767970196220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/3359799767970196220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-to-diccil-perceber.html' title='&quot;Não é tão dicícil perceber&quot;'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-4715931204009482382</id><published>2008-11-28T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T06:53:21.249-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Não é tão difícil perceber"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/STAFuzUCzAI/AAAAAAAAADM/Qoy_NrDT7UM/s1600-h/2103457.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273721465257249794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/STAFuzUCzAI/AAAAAAAAADM/Qoy_NrDT7UM/s400/2103457.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Queria gritar e me calei, preferi que o meu silêncio te chamasse atenção.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas você não notou, nem se quer me olhou mais fundo, tentando desvendar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Então eu sumi por um tempo, me escondi aqui dentro,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;caso viesse me procurar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Te esperei até pegar no sono, até perder o sono...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não era a sua voz que eu queria ouvir, mas o teu silêncio...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nem o seu beijo eu quis, para que fosse gritante o meu pedido de socorro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tão pouco ousei te olhar nos olhos, escondi de ti a doçura que te encanta.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu sei das minhas falhas, eu sei bem dos meus atos, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;não precisa reprisá-las por que eu não vou me esquecer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Só quero que pare um tempo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pare um tempo para mim. Não me faça implorar, seria humilhante.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quando resolver nada, não fará diferança.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Talvez eu renasça das cinzas e volte a voar sozinha.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por favor entenda, enquanto eu tenho forças.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me escute, ouça o meu sussurro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Esperei que notasse as minhas lágrimas, prontas para inundarem a minha face.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Esperei que me abraçasse... não fui sincera quando disse que não queria.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não é difícil perceber,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;preste atenção nos sinais...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;eles chamam por você.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-4715931204009482382?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4715931204009482382/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=4715931204009482382' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4715931204009482382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/4715931204009482382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-to-difcil-perceber.html' title='&quot;Não é tão difícil perceber&quot;'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/STAFuzUCzAI/AAAAAAAAADM/Qoy_NrDT7UM/s72-c/2103457.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-347551310827296037</id><published>2008-11-26T06:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T06:39:51.237-08:00</updated><title type='text'>....OoOo Willian Shakspeare OoOo ....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Há certas horas, em que não precisamos de um Amor...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não precisamos da paixão desmedida...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não queremos beijo na boca...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E nem corpos a se encontrar na maciez de uma cama...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Há certas horas, que só queremos a mão no ombro, o abraço apertado ou mesmo o estar ali, quietinho, ao lado...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sem nada dizer...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Há certas horas, quando sentimos que estamos pra chorar, que desejamos uma presença amiga, a nos ouvir paciente, a brincar com a gente, a nos fazer sorrir...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Alguém que ria de nossas piadas sem graça...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Que ache nossas tristezas as maiores do mundo...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Que nos teça elogios sem fim...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E que apesar de todas essas mentiras úteis, nos seja de uma sinceridadeinquestionável...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Que nos mande calar a boca ou nos evite um gesto impensado...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Alguém que nos possa dizer:Acho que você está errado, mas estou do seu lado...Ou alguém que apenas diga:Sou seu amor! E estou Aqui!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-347551310827296037?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/347551310827296037/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=347551310827296037' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/347551310827296037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/347551310827296037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/oooo-willian-shakspeare-oooo.html' title='....OoOo Willian Shakspeare OoOo ....'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-6683335834271443912</id><published>2008-11-26T06:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T06:36:10.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nem eu mesma...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SS1eynF5lgI/AAAAAAAAADE/iKg0Zis7fGI/s1600-h/2256143.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272974962300917250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SS1eynF5lgI/AAAAAAAAADE/iKg0Zis7fGI/s400/2256143.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enquanto a chuva caia lá fora, pensava inquieta debaixo do cobertor o por quê de tantos fantasmas no meu dia. Na vida nunca estamos satisfeitos suficientemente com o que temos, queremos sempre mais e mais...O difícil é se conformar em não querer mais nada, em não sofrer por querer ainda mais. As decepcões são um balde da água fria em meus sentimentos. Pensei mais um pouco e não suportei a mim mesma. Finalmente vou dar um conselho para mim, já que não pude me abrir com outra pessoa a não ser eu, agora pequena garota você vai me ouvir:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Eu sei que é difícil viver sem entender o que está acontecendo, mas por favor não julgue os outros, pq o problema maior pode estar em você. As pessoas tem te decepcionado, tem te ignorado, até mesmo humilhado. Levante a cabeça, não se deixe abater por coisas tão pequenas, tão inferiores. Tenha a simplicidade de uma criança e aprenda a passar por cima de ofensas, aprenda a superar a dor sem deixar que se abram feridas, é melhor se tiver poucas cicatrizes.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me disse que seus dias têm sido nublados, ora essa, a um Sol que brilha dentro de você, se quiser se aquecer dançe na chuva. Você não está só, ainda que não tenha encotrado alguém que te ouça, que não te critique, que apenas esteja interessado em saber, você sabe que tem essas pessoas. Talvez não procurou as certas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por pior que esteja, não pode se esconder na escuridão. Quer saber, francamente não vai passar se você fiar aí, deitada olhando para o teto. Levante-se dessa cama, se olhe no espelho, se ame. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chega de solidão! Se abra, sorria para vida, doe-se um pouco mais, para receber ainda mais em troca. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E agora vai dormir, receba a paz, por que a vida te oferece muito todos os dias, basta abrir os olhos para perceber.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-6683335834271443912?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6683335834271443912/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=6683335834271443912' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/6683335834271443912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/6683335834271443912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/nem-eu-mesma.html' title='Nem eu mesma...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SS1eynF5lgI/AAAAAAAAADE/iKg0Zis7fGI/s72-c/2256143.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8028067107294565935</id><published>2008-11-26T05:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T06:13:31.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ADORO VOAR...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já escondi um AMOR com medo de perdê-lo, já perdi um AMOR por escondê-lo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já segurei nas mãos de alguém por medo, já tive tanto medo, ao ponto de nem sentir minhas mãos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já expulsei pessoas que amava de minha vida, já me arrependi por isso. Já passei noites chorando até pegar no sono, já fui dormir tão feliz, ao ponto de nem conseguir fechar os olhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já acreditei em amores perfeitos, já descobri que eles não existem.Já amei pessoas que me decepcionaram, já decepcionei pessoas que me amaram.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já passei horas na frente do espelho tentando descobrir quem sou, já tive tanta certeza de mim, ao ponto de querer sumir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já menti e me arrependi depois, já falei a verdade e também me arrependi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já fingi não dar importância às pessoas que amava, para mais tarde chorar quieta em meu canto.Já sorri chorando lágrimas de tristeza, já chorei de tanto rir.Já acreditei em pessoas que não valiam a pena, já deixei de acreditar nas que realmente valiam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já tive crises de riso quando não podia.Já quebrei pratos, copos e vasos, de raiva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já senti muita falta de alguém, mas nunca lhe disse.Já gritei quando deveria calar, já calei quando deveria gritar.Muitas vezes deixei de falar o que penso para agradar uns, outras vezes falei o que não pensava para magoar outros.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já fingi ser o que não sou para agradar uns, já fingi ser o que não sou para desagradar outros.Já contei piadas e mais piadas sem graça, apenas para ver um amigo feliz.Já inventei histórias com final feliz para dar esperança a quem precisava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já sonhei demais, ao ponto de confundir com a realidade... Já tive medo do escuro, hoje no escuro "me acho, me agacho, fico ali".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já cai inúmeras vezes achando que não iria me reerguer, já me reergui inúmeras vezes achando que não cairia mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já liguei para quem não queria apenas para não ligar para quem realmente queria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já corri atrás de um carro, por ele levar embora, quem eu amava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já chamei pela mamãe no meio da noite fugindo de um pesadelo. Mas ela não apareceu e foi um pesadelo maior ainda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Já chamei pessoas próximas de "amigo" e descobri que não eram... Algumas pessoas nunca precisei chamar de nada e sempre foram e serão especiais para mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Não me dêem fórmulas certas, porque eu não espero acertar sempre.Não me mostre o que esperam de mim, porque vou seguir meu coração!Não me façam ser o que não sou, não me convidem a ser igual, porque sinceramente sou diferente!Não sei amar pela metade, não sei viver de mentiras, não sei voar com os pés no chão.Sou sempre eu mesma, mas com certeza não serei a mesma pra SEMPRE! Gosto dos venenos mais lentos, das bebidas mais amargas, das drogas mais poderosas, das idéias mais insanas, dos pensamentos mais complexos, dos sentimentos mais fortes.Tenho um apetite voraz e os delírios mais loucos. Você pode até me empurrar de um penhasco q eu vou dizer: - E daí? &lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;EU ADORO VOAR!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a class="autor" href="http://www.pensador.info/autor/Clarice_Lispector/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Clarice Lispector&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-8028067107294565935?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8028067107294565935/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8028067107294565935' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8028067107294565935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8028067107294565935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/adoro-voar.html' title='ADORO VOAR...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8882709715410408127</id><published>2008-11-25T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T12:31:00.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Desabafo  =(</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SSwRmFPr0RI/AAAAAAAAAC8/UcuF6sKrqqY/s1600-h/2273059.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Tenho vivido dias difíceis, dias de imensa alteração no meu tranquilo coração de papel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A observação exagerada talvez tenha me feito perceber apenas os defeitos, e as qualidades têm se fundido junto a escuridão interior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sei que pode ser mais uma fase a se encarar, mas me incomoda olhar para os seres humanos que convivo, no meio em que vivo e ver tanta falsidade estampada em seus olhos, em ver tanto egoísmo, tanta trapaça. Não aguento pessoas que se achem superiores a outras, melhores, pessoas que cheiram status.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Gosto da simplicidade, da humildade, carisma e por favor, me permitam gritar: - EDUCAÇÃO!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Uffa, tem sido dificil encontrar pessoas educadas...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pessoas doces, daquelas com gosto de cobertura de sorvete que dá vontade de ficar horas e horas em sua companhia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Meu ciclo está completo de lixo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Exatamente por isso é que me recuo e tento espelhar aquilo que almejo receber, no entanto não recebo nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Se não fosse o trato que Deus fez com Noé, eu pediria a ele que mandasse outro dilúvio e ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ops, que besteira.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A realidade é que não suporto mais. Quero sumir ou desejar mto que os outros sumam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Um pouco de paz, POR FAVOR!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-8882709715410408127?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8882709715410408127/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8882709715410408127' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8882709715410408127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8882709715410408127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/desabafo.html' title='Desabafo  =('/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-7422830351023338322</id><published>2008-11-11T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T05:50:32.661-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somente...Só.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRmNXdNKUTI/AAAAAAAAAC0/aDsr95AqF10/s1600-h/2176301.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267396673302843698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 556px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRmNXdNKUTI/AAAAAAAAAC0/aDsr95AqF10/s400/2176301.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O tempo está nublado como nunca, acho que dessa vez chove. É o que todos esperam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Estou numa fusão de pensamentos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me sinto só hoje. Tão só como nunca estive, a procura de quem venha me dar um abraço, alguém que me dê um sorriso.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me vejo no espelho e penso 'quem é esta mulher no espelho'? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E por que ela não sorri, o seu olhar está vago pela imensidão, seus cabelos bagunçados, sua voz não é mais doce e suave. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me sinto só aqui, acolá, por onde quer que eu vá...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Talvez seja o tempo que me entristeceu, talvez seja saudade dos meus...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Torno a me olhar no espelho... quero saber quem sou eu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-7422830351023338322?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7422830351023338322/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=7422830351023338322' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/7422830351023338322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/7422830351023338322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/somentes.html' title='Somente...Só.'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRmNXdNKUTI/AAAAAAAAAC0/aDsr95AqF10/s72-c/2176301.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-1763691373683278951</id><published>2008-11-07T06:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T06:27:52.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aonde quer que eu vá, serei sempre eu mesma. Estarei eu comigo para sempre.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRRP1vcyBKI/AAAAAAAAACs/s5ap0OBUqlA/s1600-h/2237546.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265921648991798434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRRP1vcyBKI/AAAAAAAAACs/s5ap0OBUqlA/s400/2237546.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É difícil perder-se. É tão difícl que provavelmente arrumarei depressa um modo de me achar, mesmo que achar-me seja de novo a mentira de que vivo.&lt;a class="autor" href="http://www.pensador.info/autor/Clarice_Lispector/"&gt;Clarice Lispector&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ainda estou tentando...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas me encontrar torna-se dificil, já que me perdi completamente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não quero desistir de mim. Mas as forças que me restam não me permitem mais do que tenho oferecido. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sei que estou em algum lugar, talvez mais perto do que imagino.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As vezes penso se a pessoa que me tornei, realmente é o que quero ser.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um bom final de semana!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/6851727925555141054-1763691373683278951?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1763691373683278951/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=1763691373683278951' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1763691373683278951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/1763691373683278951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/aonde-quer-que-eu-v-serei-sempre-eu.html' title='Aonde quer que eu vá, serei sempre eu mesma. Estarei eu comigo para sempre.'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRRP1vcyBKI/AAAAAAAAACs/s5ap0OBUqlA/s72-c/2237546.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-5656843899201064427</id><published>2008-11-06T04:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T06:12:13.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Positivo...Negativo!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sejam vocês mesmas! Estudem cuidadosamente o que há de positivo ou negativo na sua pessoa e tirem partido disso. A mulher inteligente tira partido até dos pontos negativos. Uma boca demasiadamente rasgada, uns olhos pequenos, um nariz não muito correto podem servir para marcar o seu tipo e torná-lo mais atraente. Desde que seja seu mesmo.”   (Helen Palmer)&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/6851727925555141054-5656843899201064427?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5656843899201064427/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=5656843899201064427' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5656843899201064427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/5656843899201064427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/positivonegativo.html' title='Positivo...Negativo!!!'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-7651594453914024288</id><published>2008-11-05T06:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T06:11:27.282-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aff (:(</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRGpgUxe5eI/AAAAAAAAACE/lpOGlzNE3qo/s1600-h/6A59EAA960205CE1EF908C1E494E3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265175812169983458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRGpgUxe5eI/AAAAAAAAACE/lpOGlzNE3qo/s400/6A59EAA960205CE1EF908C1E494E3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoje estou completamente perdida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nada funciona. O tédio está corrompendo minha auto-estima. Me sinto pior a cada segundo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Céus!. Tenho tentado pensar em não pensar em nada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sei que não estou bem... e detesto admitir. O pior é não saber com sair dessa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tende a piorar qdo minha amada mãe viajar, na semana que vem eu vou me encontrar somente só. (rsrs) Olhar para o fogão e nunca vê-lo tão branco e vazio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dificil é acreditar que dias melhores virão... mas ainda acredito!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não sei nem o que estou dizendo; com certeza não sei mesmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ainda assim vou continuar me procurando, quem sabe não tenho sorte de me encontrar por aí, ou me esbarrar comigo numa esquina qualquer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Espero não ter ido muito longe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6851727925555141054-7651594453914024288?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7651594453914024288/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=7651594453914024288' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/7651594453914024288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/7651594453914024288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/aff.html' title='Aff (:('/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IQYKxJ_PA3w/SRGpgUxe5eI/AAAAAAAAACE/lpOGlzNE3qo/s72-c/6A59EAA960205CE1EF908C1E494E3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-276003632514487081</id><published>2008-10-31T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T07:00:02.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No vento de um TEmPOral...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"Sou tão misteriosa que não me entendo"( Clarice Lispector)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Há vida cheia de momentos altos e baixos. E acho que estou num desses baixos momentos agora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Ontem pensei que me afundaria em meio a tantas lágrimas, pensei tbm em me afogar, mas exitei, não posso ir antes de saber como tudo vai acabar. Criei um escudo de aço,  agora sinto o meu muro rachar. Juro que fiz tudo o que pude, que tentei resistir, não querendo que você me queresse, mas querendo muito que  acontecesse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Tentei  resistir o seu sorriso... mas você me sorri tão doce.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;O jeito bobo que você me olha, esse olhar fundo que tento decifrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Detesto quando você bagunça o meu cabelo, ou quando me abraça e desconcerta a minha roupa, ou quando tira o meu baton. Mas lá no fundinho, sem que eu mesma saiba, sinto falta quando não faz isso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Detesto tbm quando me pede um beijo, tudo o que queria é me pegasse desprevenida, me desarmasse em seus braços, para que eu não pudesse mais resistir e me perdesse ainda mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Eu tento resistir, e quando estou tentando, você vem...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;me pega no colo, me fazendo rir descontroladamente, aperto firme os meus braços em seu pescoço e me sinto uma criança...!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Posso sentir no seu abraço o tamanho da sua saudade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Não consigo resistir a sua boca, ela se aproxima mansa, pelos cantos, e me torna fraca, eu me rendo completamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Não vejo hora de toda essa tempestade passar e o vento finalmente soprar em nosso favor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Temo por ter que pensar no último momento. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A tempos não me sinto assim, tão vulnerável outra vez... A tempos  que não precisava da tua respiração para eu não perder o fôlego. Se choro, ainda sim me sinto segura, porque posso apertar firme a sua mão até o meu medo passar. Me perdi dentro de mim e só você me encontra... Logo agora quero que fique ou que me leve junto com você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Não sei o que fez comigo. Mas sei que é serio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Porque agora eu te quero para sempre.&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/6851727925555141054-276003632514487081?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/276003632514487081/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=276003632514487081' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/276003632514487081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/276003632514487081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/10/no-vento-de-um-temporal_31.html' title='No vento de um TEmPOral...'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6851727925555141054.post-8971974330319748674</id><published>2008-10-24T07:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T07:23:15.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CHEGOUUUUUUU o fimmm de SeMaNa!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Aiii q delícia... Sinto o gostinho do fim de semana. o que será q será q posso esperar dele? Ah! Mudando um kdim de assunto preciso contar uma coisa:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Essa noite tive um sonho esquisito, tenho medo pq certos sonhos q tenho se realizam. Este na verdade estava mais para pesadelo. Eu chorava mto no sonho, e qdo acordei estava chorando de verdade, pude sentir as lágrimas ainda quentinhas na minha face. Nossa!!! Foi mto real, pq a angustia q eu sentia ainda me pertubava. Pior q não  me lembro direito o q estava sonhando.  Esquisito, eu sei... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Voltando ao fim de semana, não tenho nada programado p este, talvez seja um daqueles em q vc passa o dia tdo no sofá, se enchendo de pipoca. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;;D!!! huahuaaaaaaa&lt;/span&gt;&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/6851727925555141054-8971974330319748674?l=butgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8971974330319748674/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6851727925555141054&amp;postID=8971974330319748674' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8971974330319748674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6851727925555141054/posts/default/8971974330319748674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butgirl.blogspot.com/2008/10/chegouuuuuuu-o-fimmm-de-semana.html' title='CHEGOUUUUUUU o fimmm de SeMaNa!!!'/><author><name>Hara Rebouças</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792650736371761183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xR_W-A2DEU4/TnH2ZMXojFI/AAAAAAAAASg/kpZU772PF2A/s220/la.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
