<?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-4477210355700355079</id><updated>2012-02-09T07:16:11.887Z</updated><category term='fiction'/><category term='inspiration'/><category term='lyrics'/><title type='text'>All about memories...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>85</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-5741552517318702985</id><published>2012-02-06T02:42:00.003Z</published><updated>2012-02-06T02:46:42.413Z</updated><title type='text'>Coração rasgado, lágrimas nos olhos.</title><content type='html'>Dói-me a alma, dói-me o coração, sinto as lágrimas escorrerem-me pela cara, nem vontade tenho de as parar, deixá-las seguir o seu trajecto lento e molhado até à curva do meu rosto de onde caem para onde calhar.. Seja o chão, o teclado, a roupa que trago vestida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-5741552517318702985?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/5741552517318702985/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=5741552517318702985' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5741552517318702985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5741552517318702985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2012/02/coracao-rasgado-lagrimas-nos-olhos.html' title='Coração rasgado, lágrimas nos olhos.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-136324685012506158</id><published>2012-02-05T16:22:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-02-05T16:29:21.314Z</updated><title type='text'>Porque me amarras coração?</title><content type='html'>Quero fugir, quero correr, mas sinto que se der mais um passo o peso das minhas amarras ecoará até ao mais ínfimo corredor do meu coração eternamente. Não quero ficar mais aqui, quero ser livre, quero ter espaço para ser feliz, quero ter espaço para amar, por isso liberta-me coração, não me prendas mais. Não me deixes amarrada ao teu cais onde não passam navios. Não me supliques que fique aqui quando mereço mais, mereço melhor. Simplesmente não me peças que me deixe estagnar. Muda, tem coragem de enfrentar, por amor de Deus, arranja essa força vai buscá-la onde queiras, mas encontra-a e liberta-te.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-136324685012506158?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/136324685012506158/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=136324685012506158' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/136324685012506158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/136324685012506158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2012/02/porque-me-amarras-coracao.html' title='Porque me amarras coração?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4216442606136260227</id><published>2012-02-04T13:53:00.003Z</published><updated>2012-02-04T13:56:27.098Z</updated><title type='text'>'Cause you're free to do what you want to do!</title><content type='html'>Today is the day I set you free or even better, the day I set myself free. &lt;div&gt;You're no good for me!!! That's for sure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll have to let go, somehow! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This time for sure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It'll hurt like Hell I can bet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4216442606136260227?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4216442606136260227/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4216442606136260227' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4216442606136260227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4216442606136260227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2012/02/cause-youre-free-to-do-what-you-want-to.html' title='&apos;Cause you&apos;re free to do what you want to do!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8970006659162597192</id><published>2012-02-04T04:44:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-04T14:01:08.509Z</updated><title type='text'>Até quando?</title><content type='html'>Algo semelhante há uns anos atrás volto a perguntar-me, o que espero ainda de ti?&lt;div&gt;Baralhas-me de todas as maneiras possíveis e imaginárias. Será que baralhas, ou será que sou eu que me quero sentir baralhada? Para muita gente acho que está muito claro, tudo. Só eu não o consigo ver. Mas a verdade é que depois de tudo... Depois de quase um ano... De tudo o que passou, se te apago da minha vida é como voltar à estaca zero. É pior ainda, é saber que não posso confiar tão facilmente mesmo quando as coisas correm tão naturalmente. Sei que nem dei um momento desde que disseste que te ias despedir dela. Mas precisava de saber... De certeza foste ter com a outra, mais uma que te tratou mal, por assim dizer.. Se calhar gostas de quem te trata mal e não de quem te limpa as lágrimas, de quem te empresta a sua camisola, de quem te esfrega o braço para te aquecer, de quem te dá o braço porque bebeste um pouquinho demais e estás a cambalear, de quem cora por te ouvir cantar num karaoke, de quem se sente no céu quando é abraçada por ti, por estar na tua companhia, de quem daria tudo para ter feito as coisas de maneira diferente, pensando que seria melhor... De quem daria tudo para estar contigo a toda a hora.. De quem gostaria de poder voltar a limpar-te as lágrimas, mas de preferência fazer-te sorrir, de quem gostaria de passar as mãos no teu cabelo, como ele era naqueles dias passados e que agora subsistem simplesmente na memória... Sei que se pensasse de outra forma, entenderia que não, não és para mim nem eu para ti, simplesmente porque já me magoaste muito, porque também te magoei, porque estamos muito longe, porque estivemos muito perto e não foi a melhor altura, porque nos tratamos mal, não bem, quando só queria amar-te com todo o meu ser, sabendo que me amavas de volta.. Mas isso não é verdade. Não o é, e talvez nunca o venha a ser. Resta saber até quando vou insistir em tentar saber, em arriscar, para que possa dizer se valeu a pena se não. Se vou continuar a adiar a minha felicidade, por não haver mais espaço no meu coração que não esteja preenchido por ti.  Não entendes, ou entenderás e simplesmente não queres saber e continuas a mentir dizendo que sim? Não sei que pensar, tens o dom de deixar-me confusa. Queria que te abrisses comigo como sempre pensei que fazias. mas se calhar, já nem a isso podemos voltar... Vem, fala-me, diz-me a verdade, que estiveste com ela, o que aconteeu, ou mente-me, diz-me que não a viste...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Será... Será que perdi a minha oportunidade?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-8970006659162597192?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8970006659162597192/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8970006659162597192' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8970006659162597192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8970006659162597192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2012/02/ate-quando.html' title='Até quando?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8049066307137855446</id><published>2012-02-01T17:39:00.004Z</published><updated>2012-02-01T18:08:46.343Z</updated><title type='text'>Tempo para mudanças.. talvez.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt; Já há muito que não escrevia e uma vez mais senti a necessidade. Muita coisa mudou, muita coisa está em transição. Acho que posso dizer que  já há muita coisa que não pode voltar atrás. Muita coisa inesperada e que veio por bem e que infelizmente também não torna a passar tão depressa. O meu início do ano resume-se a "muita coisa". Triste é que se refere também  a muita coisa perdida ou terminada. Mas bem, agora há muito em que pensar. Muita coisa que fazer, muita coisa que mudar, muita coisa que arrumar. Muita coisa...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&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/4477210355700355079-8049066307137855446?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8049066307137855446/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8049066307137855446' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8049066307137855446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8049066307137855446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2012/02/tempo-para-mudancas-talvez.html' title='Tempo para mudanças.. talvez.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7215776913348737485</id><published>2012-01-06T00:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-01-06T00:30:09.447Z</updated><title type='text'>Te entiendo</title><content type='html'>Algures no Facebok eu li isto e entendi.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Te entiendo, entiendo que cuando estas con él, sientes que eres super especial, que eres la única chica en el mundo, que eres la única que él quiere. Te entiendo, cuando ves que otra le firma el muro y te haces la cabeza por una semana seguida. Te entiendo, cuando ves que se conecta y no te habla, y sientes que no le importas. Te entiendo, cuando dejas el orgullo a un lado y le mandas un msj o le hablas por chat y no te responde. Te entiendo, cuando escuchaste o te cuentan que estuvo con una chica, y tu buscas por cielo y tierra, y hasta donde no hay información, para ver quién es esa flaca que estuvo con él. Te entiendo, cuando él publica algo en su muro y piensas ''aaay, ojalá que sea para mi'' pero después de un rato te pones a pensar y dices ''no, ni en pedo pone algo así para mí.'' . Te entiendo, cuando él es el único tema de conversación entre tu y tus amigas, hasta llega un momento en que las cansás hablando de él. Te entiendo cuando no paras de mirarle el muro, para ver si esta conectado o si publicó algo nuevo, o si va a salir, con quién está, etc. Te entiendo, cuando escuchas una canción y dice exactamente lo que pasaron ustedes dos juntos. Te entiendo, cuando ves que está su ventanita del chat y que te habló. Te entiendo, cuando tienes esa sonrisa de oreja a oreja al ver lo que te puso, aunque haya sido un simple ''Hola''. Te entiendo que aunque tu y él no sean nada, tu vives pensando en él, en lo que vivieron, en lo que pueden vivir y entiendo que se destruye el mundo cuando te enteras algo de esas putitas, que vienen y te cagan todo lo que tenias con él, o que alguna vez pensaste ''flaca, ex o actual, no vengas con apariciones sorpresivas porque me arruinas la vida'' En esto y en muchísimas cosas más, TE ENTIENDO, te entiendo porque a mí también me pasó y a todas las que estuvieron con él también les pasó, y entiendo que aunque diga ''No le des bola, no vale la pena.. es un pendejo'' no vas a dejar de pensar ni un segundo en él, ninguna lo va a hacer...ni yo. Ya lo intentaste mi veces, ¿no? Yo también. Así que no te digo que dejes de pensar en él, porque sé que es imposible, pero tienes que saber que si algo te hace sufrir, más de lo que te hace feliz, realmente no vale la pena."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7215776913348737485?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7215776913348737485/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7215776913348737485' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7215776913348737485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7215776913348737485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2012/01/te-entiendo.html' title='Te entiendo'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7908399220441045834</id><published>2011-11-27T03:19:00.002Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:49:20.484Z</updated><title type='text'>Desolada</title><content type='html'>Não sei que mais posso fazer. Ele não se toca. Ele não entende como sofro. Ele não entende como me faz sofrer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7908399220441045834?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7908399220441045834/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7908399220441045834' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7908399220441045834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7908399220441045834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2011/11/desolada.html' title='Desolada'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-926204232706834046</id><published>2011-10-08T16:49:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T17:04:39.518+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Outubro</title><content type='html'>Em Outubro já não se devia fazer sentir este calorão!!!&lt;div&gt;Até parece que corta um pouco a vontade de fazer mais, de tentar mais, dá mais moleza, menos "ganas". Mas tem de se continuar a lutar, fazer mais um esforço.  Afinal, a Lua brilha lá em cima e o Sol também, temos de brilhar nós cá em baixo. Pouco a pouco ir realizando sonhos e pequenas vontades. Só isso nos faz feliz! Hoje sinto-me bem, dormi demais acho eu, ahahaah. Mas estou bem disposta, depois de uns dias menos bons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-926204232706834046?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/926204232706834046/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=926204232706834046' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/926204232706834046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/926204232706834046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2011/10/outubro.html' title='Outubro'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8300218971924717704</id><published>2011-09-12T15:14:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T15:23:59.789+01:00</updated><title type='text'>No me olvide</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;El P1cky - No me olvide&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;No me olvide de ese lugar&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;En donde caminábamos siempre&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;No me olvide, sigue acá&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Esta grabado tan fuerte en mi mente&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Los momentos son fugaces&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Eso los vuelve eternos&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Se repiten tantas veces&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Tantas veces...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Los recuerdos te traen a vos&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y yo me pongo a pensar&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Si extrañaras mi voz&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Como extraño tu forma de besar&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Dejamos tantas palabras&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;A la mitad, sin terminar, sin avisar&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Mejor callar y aceptar&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Que todo eso quedo atrás&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Aunque quisiera...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Irte a buscar y mirar si te fuiste&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Si estas, si esperas, si pudiste&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Olvidar el amor, la pasión o sino&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Eso es lo que siempre pienso&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y después me despierto y veo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Que el pasado con vos fue tan bueno&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y prefiero quedarme con ese recuerdo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y hacerlo eterno&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Capaz que conociste al fin el amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y tenes la mirada enamorada hoy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Te imagino con esa sonrisa&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Que te achica los ojos&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Que te hace tan bonita&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Debes seguir tomando tus clases de ingles&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y hablar sin que te entiendan por la rapidez&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Quejándote de alguna estupidez&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Frunciendo el ceño, ese gesto te queda tan bien&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Seguro estas fumando y preguntándote&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Por que este loco sigue amándote&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Si hubiese alguna forma de explicar amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;La usaría para enseñarte que&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Cuando se ama se regala libertad&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Matando los caprichos aunque duela más&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;No quisiera obligarte a volver atrás&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Pero a veces me dan ganas de...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Irte a buscar y mirar si te fuiste&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Si estas, si esperas, si pudiste&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Olvidar el amor, la pasión o sino&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Eso es lo que siempre pienso&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y después me despierto y veo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Que el pasado con vos fue tan bueno&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y prefiero quedarme con ese recuerdo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Y hacerlo eterno&lt;/b&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/4477210355700355079-8300218971924717704?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8300218971924717704/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8300218971924717704' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8300218971924717704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8300218971924717704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2011/09/no-me-olvide_12.html' title='No me olvide'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6170862350957733067</id><published>2011-01-31T01:28:00.003Z</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:36:03.044Z</updated><title type='text'>Daisuki!</title><content type='html'>Ahh damn, I'm in love. How can I be in love with him? He's the best dancer I've ever know. He danced for me, for at least half an hour. He smiles and my heart bounces. I look to him and suddenly I smile. I look to his lips and I wonder how it would be to kiss him.  He looks at me (even through a cam) and I blush. I can't stop thinking of him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6170862350957733067?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6170862350957733067/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6170862350957733067' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6170862350957733067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6170862350957733067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2011/01/daisuki.html' title='Daisuki!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8373739469283404379</id><published>2011-01-01T23:24:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-01-01T23:45:42.358Z</updated><title type='text'>2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Chegámos finalmente a 2011.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Não sei que dizer, vai ser um início de ano difícil. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Vou precisar de força para fazer muita coisa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Espero conseguir concretizar pelo menos alguns dos meus objectivos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Bom ano.&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/4477210355700355079-8373739469283404379?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8373739469283404379/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8373739469283404379' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8373739469283404379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8373739469283404379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html' title='2011'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1022827602454371270</id><published>2010-09-17T00:21:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T02:00:04.619+01:00</updated><title type='text'>De volta à Uni.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;E estamos em Setembro, e as aulas já começaram. Tenho medo, mas vou tentar e vou conseguir. Pois só com pensamento positivo se consegue chegar longe. Lentamente ir enfrentando o mundo, porque tem de ser, é a única forma de avançarmos no nosso caminho. Desta vez, para além de dar força aos outros vou tentar dar-me força também.&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/4477210355700355079-1022827602454371270?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1022827602454371270/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1022827602454371270' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1022827602454371270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1022827602454371270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2010/09/de-volta-uni.html' title='De volta à Uni.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8254089046426277520</id><published>2010-07-06T20:39:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T20:53:01.759+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Amizade</title><content type='html'>Hoje. a minha amiga Ditinha disse:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;" &lt;/span&gt;Num momento profundo sinto que estou a caminha para algum lado, sem certezas mas sem hesitação vislumbro algo que procuro atingir, não sei quando lá chegarei mas tenho pressa de alcançar &lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';"&gt;e é exactamente isso que eu agradeço neste momento (e espero que sejas mesmo sincera comigo sem problemas, sabes que o podes ser e espero que sempre o faças). É&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';"&gt; nesses momentos que olho para o meu lado e vejo que me acompanham e que ao fazerem-no dão-me apoio, mostram-me carinho. A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;gradeço o facto de me acompanhares e apoiares como apenas um amigo o pode fazer e que gostes de o fazer &lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';"&gt;e acima de tudo que te divirtas no processo! A vida é um misto de amor e ódio, sorte e azar, viver e morrer. Mas acima de tudo é sobre nós &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;e apesar de tudo o que ainda vai mudar e de tudo o que ainda temos para fazer, &lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';"&gt;hei-de sempre relembrar esta altura decisiva da minha vida como muitas mais hei-de ter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';"&gt;e saber que estiveste lá para mim e principalmente comigo."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Obrigada por tudo e por estares sempre para mim e comigo, também.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-INDENT: -9pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0.9pt 0pt 17.6pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Segoe UI', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-8254089046426277520?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8254089046426277520/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8254089046426277520' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8254089046426277520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8254089046426277520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2010/07/amizade.html' title='Amizade'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-93393332664340322</id><published>2010-06-22T01:31:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T01:42:28.627+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Férias e Cibele</title><content type='html'>Estou de férias!&lt;br /&gt;  Apesar do que esperava, o semestre não correu tão bem como pensava. De modo geral, não estou desagradada com os resultados. Sei que fiz um grande esforço e em alguns casos os resultados valeram bem esse esforço. &lt;br /&gt;  Assim que me apanhei de férias, decidi acabar de ler &lt;em&gt;O Segredo de Cibele&lt;/em&gt; que havia começado em Setembro. Oh, que história surpreendentemente linda,  que amor tão imprevisível. Ainda estou apaixonada pelas 3 principais personagens, Paula, Stoyan e Duarte Aguiar, o pirata português. :P&lt;br /&gt;  Obviamente com a vinda da terra, novas aventuras por cá começam, juntamente com novos projectos e novos modos de viver a vida. Para já, arrumar o quarto e depois logo se vê.&lt;br /&gt;  Escrevo em breve.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-93393332664340322?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/93393332664340322/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=93393332664340322' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/93393332664340322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/93393332664340322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2010/06/ferias-e-cibele.html' title='Férias e Cibele'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6398281114850256144</id><published>2010-05-13T00:52:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T00:59:27.475+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A 13 de Maio</title><content type='html'>Estamos a 13 de Maio. O Papa veio a Portugal. Vai estar em Fátima.&lt;br /&gt;O que tinha em mente para este post não tinha nada a ver com isto. Mas já agora concluímos a parte religiosa do post com o facto de inesperadamente ter mesmo ido à missa do Terreiro do Paço e tê-lo visto passar, acenando, no Rossio. Mudando agora de assunto, faltam 3 semanas para terminar o semestre. Estou a dar em doida. Já não sei para que lado me virar, estou desesperada por estar de férias, não penso mesmo noutra coisa, cada vez tenho mais trabalho para fazer e não tenho a mínima vontade de o fazer. Enfim, é o esforço final que tanto custa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6398281114850256144?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6398281114850256144/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6398281114850256144' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6398281114850256144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6398281114850256144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2010/05/13-de-maio.html' title='A 13 de Maio'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-423234894861084441</id><published>2010-04-13T23:27:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T23:29:51.281+01:00</updated><title type='text'>E Abril já vai quase a meio...</title><content type='html'>Pois é, já vamos quase a meio de Abril e é bom ver que alguns dos meus esforços mostram agora resultados. Passou um mês e eu continuo a esforçar-me. =) Estou orgulhosa, vamos continuar a trabalhar. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-423234894861084441?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/423234894861084441/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=423234894861084441' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/423234894861084441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/423234894861084441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2010/04/e-abril-ja-vai-quase-meio.html' title='E Abril já vai quase a meio...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4546936539055148115</id><published>2010-03-08T00:54:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-03-08T01:09:32.906Z</updated><title type='text'>Dias frios e cansativos.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Já há algum tempo que não vinha falar e à medida que o tempo vai correndo, tenho sentido cada vez mais essa necessidade. Não é que se passe nada de especial ou nada de novo. A única novidade talvez seja o facto de eu ter tirado a carta de condução. De resto, há pessoas que têm vindo a desaparecer da minha vida e outras teimam em ficar, apesar de só magoarem. Uma certa pessoa que tinha decidido apagar da minha vida, resolveu adicionar-me ao hi5. Não a adicionei, mas fiquei a pensar... Porque não desiste e continua a querer magoar-me? Acho que não é para perceber. Tenho tido muito trabalho da faculdade, e fora estas últimas semanas em que o ritmo tem sido um pouco intenso demais para que eu o acompanhe, tenho feito tudo. Tenho feito um esforço e fora um par de aulas de alemão ainda não faltei. A verdade é que me sinto orgulhosa do meu esforço, mas ainda é cedo para gritar vitória. Seja como for o trabalho é muito e a vontade, apesar de alguma, não é assim tanta. A ver vamos. &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/4477210355700355079-4546936539055148115?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4546936539055148115/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4546936539055148115' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4546936539055148115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4546936539055148115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2010/03/dias-frios-e-cansativos.html' title='Dias frios e cansativos.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6152887454809846977</id><published>2009-12-02T19:44:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-12-02T19:48:43.755Z</updated><title type='text'>Mudar ou estagnar?</title><content type='html'>Mudar.&lt;br /&gt;Porquê mudar?&lt;br /&gt;É confortável ser eu, como sou. É confortável não ter de fazer um esforço nesta vida que já nos pede tanto. Poder ser melhor, não estagnar, e no entanto não há força para essa mudança. Farta do estado de estagnação em que me encontro mas sem força para mudar, para lutar, para ser diferente. Para ser melhor. Porquê?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6152887454809846977?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6152887454809846977/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6152887454809846977' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6152887454809846977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6152887454809846977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/12/mudar-ou-estagnar.html' title='Mudar ou estagnar?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1441992852674339588</id><published>2009-11-12T16:00:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-11-12T16:16:04.986Z</updated><title type='text'>Outside by Staind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-USfont-family:'Verdana','sans-serif';font-size:85%;" lang="EN-US"  &gt;And you, can bring me to my knees&lt;br /&gt;Again&lt;br /&gt;All the times,&lt;br /&gt;That I could beg you please-&lt;br /&gt;In vain&lt;br /&gt;All the times&lt;br /&gt;That I felt insecure&lt;br /&gt;For you&lt;br /&gt;And I leave&lt;br /&gt;My burdens at the door &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/Svw0bSZzPfI/AAAAAAAAAHs/uQlu9LvplIc/s1600-h/3186237317_5baa30bee9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403251296338918898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/Svw0bSZzPfI/AAAAAAAAAHs/uQlu9LvplIc/s320/3186237317_5baa30bee9.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm on the outside&lt;br /&gt;And I'm looking in&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you&lt;br /&gt;See your true colors&lt;br /&gt;'Cause inside you're ugly&lt;br /&gt;You're ugly like me&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you&lt;br /&gt;See to the real you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the times&lt;br /&gt;That I felt like this won't end&lt;br /&gt;It's for you&lt;br /&gt;And I taste&lt;br /&gt;What I could never have&lt;br /&gt;It was from you&lt;br /&gt;All the times&lt;br /&gt;That I've cried&lt;br /&gt;My intentions&lt;br /&gt;Were full of pride&lt;br /&gt;But I waste&lt;br /&gt;More time than anyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm on the outside&lt;br /&gt;And I'm looking in&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you&lt;br /&gt;See your true colors&lt;br /&gt;'Cause inside you're ugly&lt;br /&gt;You're ugly like me&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you&lt;br /&gt;See to the real you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the times&lt;br /&gt;That I've cried&lt;br /&gt;All this wasted&lt;br /&gt;It's all inside&lt;br /&gt;And I feel&lt;br /&gt;All this pain&lt;br /&gt;Stuffed it down&lt;br /&gt;It's back again&lt;br /&gt;And I lie&lt;br /&gt;Here in bed&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;I can't mend&lt;br /&gt;But I feel&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow will be okay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm on the outside&lt;br /&gt;And I'm looking in&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you&lt;br /&gt;See your true colors&lt;br /&gt;'Cause inside you're ugly&lt;br /&gt;You're ugly like me&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you&lt;br /&gt;See to the real you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-1441992852674339588?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1441992852674339588/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1441992852674339588' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1441992852674339588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1441992852674339588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/11/outside-by-staind.html' title='Outside by Staind'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/Svw0bSZzPfI/AAAAAAAAAHs/uQlu9LvplIc/s72-c/3186237317_5baa30bee9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6578987898066156231</id><published>2009-09-28T14:52:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T14:59:50.962+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sofrimento.</title><content type='html'>Aquando do 20º dia de internamento do pai no Hospital Santa Maria,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Conseguias aguentar 18 dias  sem o teu pai?&lt;br /&gt;P- Se tivesse de ser, sim.&lt;br /&gt;A- E 20 dias?&lt;br /&gt;P- Sim.&lt;br /&gt;A- e 40dias?&lt;br /&gt;P- (pausa)... Sim.&lt;br /&gt;A- E 80 dias? conseguias aguentar 80 dias sem o teu pai?&lt;br /&gt;P-( pausa maior) Sim.&lt;br /&gt;A- e 100 dias?&lt;br /&gt;P- (pausa) Se tivesse de ser, sim.&lt;br /&gt;A-Mas eu não quero. Ainda sou pequeno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh meu querido, se eu pudesse não te deixava sofrer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6578987898066156231?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6578987898066156231/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6578987898066156231' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6578987898066156231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6578987898066156231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/09/sofrimento.html' title='Sofrimento.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7089176794002710637</id><published>2009-09-21T20:22:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T20:25:00.922+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling like..</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling like  yelling, like cryin' out all the pain, all the anger, all the loneliness inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7089176794002710637?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7089176794002710637/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7089176794002710637' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7089176794002710637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7089176794002710637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/09/feeling-like.html' title='Feeling like..'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8478998358188892746</id><published>2009-09-17T01:01:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T01:10:32.980+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinestesia?</title><content type='html'>Será que existe alguma palavra para mistura de sentimentos, assim como há sinestesia para mistura de sentidos?  Ok, se calhar há e eu sou muito ignorante por não saber.  Ahhh! Apetece-me gritar, tirar tudo o que está preso cá dentro e que eu gostava  de tirar, para me poder  sentir livre. Sentimentos de paixão, de amor, de eterna saudade, de amizade, de medo, insegurança, ansiedade. Sentimentos de felicidade, de mágoa. De  alegria e de tristeza. De tudo o que sinto e nem consigo descrever. De tudo o que me vai na alma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-8478998358188892746?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8478998358188892746/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8478998358188892746' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8478998358188892746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8478998358188892746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/09/sinestesia.html' title='Sinestesia?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6140465467843495649</id><published>2009-05-17T12:31:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T00:17:29.634+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O que sinto por ti...</title><content type='html'>Sinto o que sei que não devia sentir. Apesar de ser quase ridículo, já estou habituada. Apaixono-me sempre com facilidade. E desiludo-me em grande. Sofro em grande.&lt;br /&gt;Apaixonar é bom, é um sentimento bom, que nos faz sentir bem. A outra pessoa acaba por nem ter grande importância, desde que não saiba, eu posso ser feliz a gostar dela. Mas chega a parte em que começo a ter ciúmes, das pessoas que falam com ele, das pessoas que estão com ele todos os dias, dos amigos dele. E eu nem nunca o vi. Quer dizer estivemos no mesmo sítio, no mesmo círculo de pessoas, mas eu ainda não o conhecia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6140465467843495649?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6140465467843495649/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6140465467843495649' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6140465467843495649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6140465467843495649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-que-sinto-por-ti.html' title='O que sinto por ti...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2592447590115438927</id><published>2009-05-08T15:58:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T15:59:58.869+01:00</updated><title type='text'>=(</title><content type='html'>É o costume, dizes que não como se fosses muito forte e depois ficas-te a chorar por teres dito que não.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2592447590115438927?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2592447590115438927/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2592447590115438927' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2592447590115438927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2592447590115438927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title='=('/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-5589837499074258029</id><published>2009-05-08T12:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T12:44:03.429+01:00</updated><title type='text'>E tudo volta ao mesmo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Aqui estou eu uma vez mais. Sem grande coisa para dizer, apenas que nada muda, pelo menos na minha vida. Vejo os dias, os meses, os anos a passarem e tudo na mesma...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Quando é que decido fazer um esforço por mim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Quando é que decido mudar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Quando é que mudo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Não posso deixar a ansiedade tomar controlo nestes instantes, em que quero ver resultados, mas não quero fazer nada para isso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Gostava de ter dinheiro e não trabalhar, gostava de ter boas notas e não estudar nem fazer nada para isso. Acho que acabei de descobrir a minha utopia. Bom, na verdade seria interessante, mas só se o dinheiro caísse do céu. Como isso não acontece, tenho de voltar para realidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Hmm, bom mas isto é um texto e se eu disser que o dinheiro cai do céu, pelo menos neste texto e no imaginário deste texto ele cai mesmo. Por isso posso afirmar que a minha utopia existe e que vivi durante dois anos assim, a ter boas notas sem ir às aulas e a ter dinheiro sem precisar de trabalhar, posso, inclusive, dizer  que ao fim de dois anos a viver a minha utopia me fartei, cansei-me de ver sempre as mesmas pessoas, de conhecer e ir sempre aos mesmos lugares, de comprar as mesmas coisas, de sentir sempre os mesmos sabores, de ver sempre as mesmas cores, pois enquanto estamos a viver numa utopia não vemos o que se passa no mundo que toda as pessoas partilham, não conhecemos pessoas novas, lugares diferentes, coisas novas no geral.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;E eu sou como Álvaro de Campos, "quero viver tudo de todas as maneiras." Apesar de às vezes não parecer, pois agarro-me muito ao passado, às memórias, tenho medo do desconhecido, tenho medo de experimentar, de provar, de ir. Tenho medo. Não sou quem quero ser, não faço o que quero fazer e não percebo o que me impede de o fazer. Não tenho nada a amarrar-me os pés, nem as mãos, nem a boca, e no entanto não faço nada do que gostaria de fazer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Não completo projectos meus. É o que eu digo, eu sou um João da Ega que para aqui anda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;E hoje, na esperança de dias melhores, de me libertar da sombra do que me prende, fico-me por aqui.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-5589837499074258029?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/5589837499074258029/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=5589837499074258029' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5589837499074258029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5589837499074258029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/05/e-tudo-volta-ao-mesmo.html' title='E tudo volta ao mesmo'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1536265747920762164</id><published>2009-03-30T20:38:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T21:05:34.816+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Vou dar uma volta.</title><content type='html'>Quando estou mais triste, mais chateada, mais furiosa ou desolada, ou sem nenhuma razão aparente, tenho tendência a ir dar uma volta. Ouvir a minha música, enquanto estou a ver o mundo, mas sem o ver atentamente, pensando lentamente em alguns dos problemas que me incomodam ou em algo que nada tem a ver com o que me deixou naquele estado, mas que me passou pela cabeça.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje decidi vir dar uma volta virtualmente.&lt;br /&gt;Ia sair mas de repente não me apeteceu sair.&lt;br /&gt;O escritor é, certamente, uma pessoa que gostava de ir a muitos sítios, fazer montes de coisas e acaba por as fazer através dos seus toscos rascunhos.&lt;br /&gt;Esta tarde ao olhar para a janela aberta à minha frente, que me trazia cores de tons intensos, como os diferentes verdes das plantas no jardim, deu-me uma vontade de levantar vôo e planar janela afora. Ir de encontro àquele verde com uma brisa fresca na cara e nos braços.&lt;br /&gt;Impossível, mas as palavras tudo podem fazer. E se eu escrever que o fiz e sentir que o fiz, até posso sentir ainda o vento na minha face, sabendo, porém, que não aconteceu e que nunca acontecerá.&lt;br /&gt;Se eu sentir quer neste momento é como se estivesse a dar uma volta e a ouvir a minha música e a ter aqueles meus pensamentos, posso acreditar que a estou, de facto, a dar.&lt;br /&gt;Apenas acho que não me vou sentir mais tranquila quando acabar de dar esta volta.&lt;br /&gt;É preço que se paga por estar apenas a imaginá-la e não a fazê-la na realidade.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho vontade ainda, de ir, de dar a minha volta.&lt;br /&gt;Mas não o vou fazer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-1536265747920762164?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1536265747920762164/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1536265747920762164' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1536265747920762164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1536265747920762164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/03/vou-dar-uma-volta.html' title='Vou dar uma volta.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2806710733646004541</id><published>2009-03-30T20:28:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T20:38:13.813+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia 23 de Março</title><content type='html'>Mais uma vez, celebro-te e não compreendo porque o faço. Certamente um dia insignificante para ti. Actualmente também o é para mim, quase. Este ano nem dei por ele passar. Na altura foi a melhor maneira de dar as boas vindas à Primavera que recentemente se instalava. Recordo-me que estava um bonito dia. O Sol iluminava tudo, mas não emanava aquele calor estonteante, estava agradável. Como se fosse o dia perfeito para o acto perfeito, para dar um passo.&lt;br /&gt;No entanto, tudo ficou sem efeito, e apenas a memória daquele dia, daquele beijo, assombra e amargura a minha vida nestes últimos anos. Sabendo que nunca vai haver nada e contudo, a presença permanente daquela memória, que simultaneamente quero esquecer e guardar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2806710733646004541?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2806710733646004541/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2806710733646004541' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2806710733646004541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2806710733646004541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/03/dia-23-de-marco.html' title='Dia 23 de Março'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1775351787480732047</id><published>2009-03-27T20:10:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-03-27T20:12:39.540Z</updated><title type='text'>Porquê?</title><content type='html'>Porque é que não basta uma boa família, alguns bons amigos, bastantes conhecidos simpáticos, alguns colegas que se preocupam?&lt;br /&gt;Porque não basta termos tudo à nossa volta para sermos felizes?&lt;br /&gt;Porque surgem as ameaças, as chantagens quando tentamos ser adultos, quando tentamos tomar posições de adultos, e porque ao serem-nos feitas, essas chantagens, essas ameaças têm efeitos tão destrutivos e nos fazem ter reacções tão infantis que destruam toda a tentativa de sermos adultos?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê estas dúvidas todas?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê a tristeza?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê as lágrimas todas?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê o medo?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê a depressão?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê a repressão e opressão da tua própria pessoa?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê a submissão aos outros?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê o não mostrar o que, na verdade, se sente?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê não o dizer, não o gritar a plenos pulmões?&lt;br /&gt;É como estar preso em Liberdade.&lt;br /&gt;É como estar amarrado a algo que não nos magoa, apenas nos prende e impede de sermos quem somos, como somos, e fazermos o que querermos.&lt;br /&gt;Porquê não  poder impor a minha vontade?&lt;br /&gt;Porquê não me conseguir libertar?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-1775351787480732047?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1775351787480732047/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1775351787480732047' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1775351787480732047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1775351787480732047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/03/porque.html' title='Porquê?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1847753634834622366</id><published>2009-02-14T03:58:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-02-14T04:03:32.074Z</updated><title type='text'>Feliz Dia dos Namorados!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SZZCHObibVI/AAAAAAAAAGM/cXlIQxVKTbA/s1600-h/491px-Heart_left-highlight_jon_01.svg.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SZZCHObibVI/AAAAAAAAAGM/cXlIQxVKTbA/s320/491px-Heart_left-highlight_jon_01.svg.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302498303175454034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Já que não tenho ninguém com quem o partilhar, decidi desejar um feliz dia a mim mesma. E pôr-me toda bonita. Porque eu mereço! Porque eu gosto, porque eu também enho direito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bahh sou mesmo parvita e só digo baboseiras. Mas nem quero saber, é assim que sou feliz. =)&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/4477210355700355079-1847753634834622366?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1847753634834622366/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1847753634834622366' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1847753634834622366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1847753634834622366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/02/feliz-dia-dos-namorados.html' title='Feliz Dia dos Namorados!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SZZCHObibVI/AAAAAAAAAGM/cXlIQxVKTbA/s72-c/491px-Heart_left-highlight_jon_01.svg.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4988249065248999667</id><published>2009-02-11T01:47:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-02-11T01:52:15.285Z</updated><title type='text'>Este meu canto</title><content type='html'>Afinal o que sou eu sem este meu canto?&lt;br /&gt;Em alturas de nervosismo, de alegria, de desespero é a ele que recorro. Eu não ando bem, para tentar explicar sinto como se a minha cabeça fosse uma panela cheia de água. Água essa que começa a fervilhar e sair da panela. Ao mesmo tempo a água que cai são lágrimas que derramo. Não há um porquê, apenas um sobreaquecimento que leva a que aquilo aconteça. Será tão fácil assim de explicar o que se passa comigo? Talvez seja Kyle a mais.. Não o saberei.&lt;br /&gt;Mais uma vez sei que deveria estar a dormir e, no entanto, aqu estou eu, uma vez mais, como sempre..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4988249065248999667?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4988249065248999667/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4988249065248999667' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4988249065248999667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4988249065248999667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/02/este-meu-canto.html' title='Este meu canto'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6269039976175333314</id><published>2009-02-02T04:15:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-02-02T04:18:05.792Z</updated><title type='text'>Descontrole</title><content type='html'>Já passa das 4 da manhã e estou em euforia. O coração descontrolado, bate acelerado. As lágrimas caem e tudo porque estou a rever uma das mais belas histórias de amor, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Coffee Prince&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho de dormir e não consigo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6269039976175333314?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6269039976175333314/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6269039976175333314' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6269039976175333314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6269039976175333314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/02/descontrole.html' title='Descontrole'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3059834042308801514</id><published>2009-01-24T14:14:00.004Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:51:25.579Z</updated><title type='text'>Deixa-me triste.</title><content type='html'>Eu compreendo os vossos motivos, as vossas vidas, os vossos afazeres, só me deixa triste que, num dia em que eu precisava mesmo de um amigo, acabo por ter de ir com 2 estranhos. Ou nem isso...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3059834042308801514?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3059834042308801514/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3059834042308801514' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3059834042308801514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3059834042308801514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/01/deixa-me-triste.html' title='Deixa-me triste.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8639985907111063100</id><published>2009-01-23T11:37:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:45:18.077Z</updated><title type='text'>Foi só um sonho..</title><content type='html'>É triste acordar e descobrir que não passou de um sonho. As sensações eram tão reais, o que eu estava a sentir também. Soube tão bem, era tão envolvente, tão viciante. E, no entanto, acordo para descobrir que é tudo mentira. Que isso não vai acontecer, muito menos do nada.&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo assim, obrigada pelo que me fizeste sentir, D.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-8639985907111063100?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8639985907111063100/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8639985907111063100' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8639985907111063100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8639985907111063100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/01/foi-s-um-sonho.html' title='Foi só um sonho..'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-555404992705586417</id><published>2009-01-20T00:08:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-01-20T00:41:52.918Z</updated><title type='text'>Estados confusos</title><content type='html'>Senti-me pedrada, mesmo sem nunca ter estado.  Senti-me nervosa. Senti-me esquisita. Estes dois últimos foram por ti. Quase me senti amada. Sensação de pertença tive, por certo. Não paro de pensar, a mente humana é mesmo assim, ou será só a minha? Que as sensações me abandonassem, era o que eu mais podia pedir.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-555404992705586417?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/555404992705586417/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=555404992705586417' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/555404992705586417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/555404992705586417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/01/estados-confusos.html' title='Estados confusos'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4690603927132124485</id><published>2009-01-04T23:05:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-01-04T23:14:46.203Z</updated><title type='text'>Escrever</title><content type='html'>Quando preciso de escrever, que é o que mais gosto de fazer,  para uma cadeira da faculdade, não consigo.&lt;br /&gt; Temos tudo a nosso gosto, o tema é escolhido por nós, o tipo de texto também, e no entanto, não me sai nada. Não tenho paciência.&lt;br /&gt;Porquê sempre este desânimo, esta falta de vontade?&lt;br /&gt;Estou num curso que gosto.. Será que não estou preparada? O que se passa?&lt;br /&gt;Como gostaria de responder a tudo isto. Não entanto aqui estou eu a escrever o texto sobre não ter vontade de escrever, um tanto ou quanto irónico, não?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4690603927132124485?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4690603927132124485/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4690603927132124485' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4690603927132124485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4690603927132124485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2009/01/escrever.html' title='Escrever'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2198985082105546837</id><published>2008-12-29T19:31:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-29T19:48:58.035Z</updated><title type='text'>Presa ainda</title><content type='html'>O que espero eu desta situação ainda?&lt;br /&gt;Estou a falar mal com a pessoa em questão mas não consigo cortar de raiz. Será que espero algo ainda?&lt;br /&gt;Só me apetece pedir desculpa, dizer "fica comigo", apesar de saber que não tenho de pedir desculpa e muito menos que queres ficar comigo. Continuo sem perceber porque não me deixas em paz de vez. Quando tudo parece sem retorno voltas e atormentas tudo. Voltas a deixar, esperanças, ânsias, vontades, desejos. Tudo o que sei que não posso esperar de uma pessoa como tu.&lt;br /&gt;O que quer que o futuro traga, aqui fica o registo do que sinto, para que não diga que não sabia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2198985082105546837?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2198985082105546837/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2198985082105546837' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2198985082105546837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2198985082105546837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/12/presa-ainda.html' title='Presa ainda'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6935480177432625992</id><published>2008-12-06T00:53:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-12-06T01:09:25.547Z</updated><title type='text'>5 de Dezembro de 2002</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lene Marlin - Heaven is a place nearby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I entered the room&lt;br /&gt;Sat by your bed all through the night&lt;br /&gt;I watched your daily fight&lt;br /&gt;I hardly knew&lt;br /&gt;The pain was almost more than I could bear&lt;br /&gt;And still I hear&lt;br /&gt;Your last words to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]:&lt;br /&gt;Heaven is a place nearby&lt;br /&gt;So I won't be so far away&lt;br /&gt;And if you try and look for me&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you'll find me someday&lt;br /&gt;Heaven is a place nearby&lt;br /&gt;So there's no need to say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;I will ask you not to cry&lt;br /&gt;I'll always be by your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just faded away&lt;br /&gt;You spread your wings, you had flown&lt;br /&gt;Away to something unknown&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could bring you back&lt;br /&gt;You're always on my mind&lt;br /&gt;About to tear myself apart&lt;br /&gt;You have your special place in my heart, always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even when I go to sleep&lt;br /&gt;I still can hear your voice&lt;br /&gt;And those words&lt;br /&gt;I never will forget&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/STnQghw2CvI/AAAAAAAAAFY/GfDry7UAMYI/s1600-h/Av%C3%B3+e+Paula+Covas+peq.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/STnQghw2CvI/AAAAAAAAAFY/GfDry7UAMYI/s320/Av%C3%B3+e+Paula+Covas+peq.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276477695678876402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Avril Lavigne - Slipped away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you&lt;br /&gt;Miss you so bad&lt;br /&gt;I don't forget you&lt;br /&gt;Oh it's so sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you can hear me&lt;br /&gt;I remember it clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;The day you slipped away.....&lt;br /&gt;Was the day i found&lt;br /&gt;It, won't be the same&lt;br /&gt;Oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get around to kiss you&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye on the hand&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could see you again&lt;br /&gt;I know that I can't ooooooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;I hope you can hear me&lt;br /&gt;Cause I remember it clearly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;The day you slipped away...&lt;br /&gt;Was the day i found&lt;br /&gt;It, won't be the same&lt;br /&gt;Oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had my wake up&lt;br /&gt;Won't you wake up&lt;br /&gt;I keep asking why.&lt;br /&gt;And I can't take it&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't fake it&lt;br /&gt;It happened you passed by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you're gone&lt;br /&gt;Now you're gone&lt;br /&gt;There you go&lt;br /&gt;There you go&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere I can't bring you back&lt;br /&gt;Now you're gone&lt;br /&gt;Now you're gone&lt;br /&gt;There you go&lt;br /&gt;There you go&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere you're not coming back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]X2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6935480177432625992?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6935480177432625992/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6935480177432625992' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6935480177432625992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6935480177432625992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/12/5-de-dezembro-de-2002.html' title='5 de Dezembro de 2002'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/STnQghw2CvI/AAAAAAAAAFY/GfDry7UAMYI/s72-c/Av%C3%B3+e+Paula+Covas+peq.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1885766752104585787</id><published>2008-12-04T19:10:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-04T19:16:45.325Z</updated><title type='text'>Vestes</title><content type='html'>VESTES&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Dentro de um caixote ou dentro de um móvel de ébano precioso vou pôr a    guardar as vestes da minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;  As roupas azuis. E depois as vermelhas, as mais belas de todas. E a    seguir as amarelas. E por fim de novo as azuis, mas muito mais    desbotadas estas últimas do que as primeiras.&lt;br /&gt;  Vou guardá-las devotamente e com muita tristeza.&lt;br /&gt;  Quando vestir as roupas negras e quando morar dentro de uma casa negra,    dentro de um quarto escuro, abrirei de vez em quando o móvel com    alegria, com desejo e com desespero.&lt;br /&gt;  Verei as roupas e lembrar-me-ei da grande festa - que será nesse momento    de todo finda.&lt;br /&gt;  De todo finda. Os móveis espalhados desordenadamente dentro das salas.    Pratos e copos partidos no chão. Todas as velas gastas até ao fim. Todo    o vinho bebido. Todos os convidados idos. Cansados alguns estarão    completamente sozinhos, como eu, dentro de casas escuras - outros mais    cansados terão ido dormir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Konstandinos Kavafis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(In «Poemas e prosas», Tradução de Joaquim Manuel Magalhãese Nikos    Pratsinis, Relógio d'Água, 1994)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-1885766752104585787?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1885766752104585787/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1885766752104585787' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1885766752104585787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1885766752104585787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/12/vestes.html' title='Vestes'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6199879300066691126</id><published>2008-12-03T15:56:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-03T16:12:14.279Z</updated><title type='text'>Lonely Lookin' sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Written by: Neil Diamond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/STavenKZpFI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/RUmn9aiqgXQ/s1600-h/d03b76c01a62a16a86233cd374b3725a_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/STavenKZpFI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/RUmn9aiqgXQ/s320/d03b76c01a62a16a86233cd374b3725a_large.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275596953954657362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lonely lookin' sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely sky, lonely looking sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and bein' lonely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;makes you wonder why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;makes you wonder why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lonely looking night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely night, lonely looking night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and bein' lonely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never made it right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never made it right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sleep we sleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for we may dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;while we may &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;dream we dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for we may wake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;one more day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;one more day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Glory looking day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;glory day, glory looking day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and all it's glory&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;told a simple way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;behold it if you may&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;glory looking day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;glory looking day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lonely looking sky &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--Lyrics End--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--Lyrics End--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6199879300066691126?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6199879300066691126/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6199879300066691126' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6199879300066691126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6199879300066691126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/12/lonely-lookin-sky.html' title='Lonely Lookin&apos; sky'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/STavenKZpFI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/RUmn9aiqgXQ/s72-c/d03b76c01a62a16a86233cd374b3725a_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-501795784004417364</id><published>2008-11-26T18:21:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-11-26T18:40:35.983Z</updated><title type='text'>Bah.. Até quando?</title><content type='html'>Mais uma semana de estudo, que não foi totalmente aproveitada, apesar de ainda ser 4ª já sei bem o destino dos restantes dias.&lt;br /&gt;Continuo a ser preguiçosa mesmo estando numa área que me interessa.. É de cortar os pulsos, sem ofensa a eventuais leitores.&lt;br /&gt;Devia aproveitar e não estou a fazer isso. Quantas pessoas não têm a possibilidade de estar a estudar numa faculdade, a tirar um curso do qual realmente gostem..&lt;br /&gt;Fico-me por aqui, que estou cheia de sono.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-501795784004417364?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/501795784004417364/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=501795784004417364' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/501795784004417364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/501795784004417364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/11/bah-at-quando.html' title='Bah.. Até quando?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1425997258280673602</id><published>2008-11-21T15:38:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-11-21T15:41:57.107Z</updated><title type='text'>Xaile - A minha circunstância</title><content type='html'>É a minha circunstância&lt;br /&gt;Ser a voz da solidão&lt;br /&gt;Um minuto de silêncio&lt;br /&gt;Ao meu pobre coração&lt;br /&gt;Não lhe digas mais que não&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Devagar se vai ao longe&lt;br /&gt;À procura de uma estrela&lt;br /&gt;Devagar que é p'ra hoje&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã a vida é bela&lt;br /&gt;Não me digas mais que não&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser pobre&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser como sou&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser livre&lt;br /&gt;De escolher com quem eu vou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boa noite meus senhores&lt;br /&gt;Prestem todos atenção&lt;br /&gt;É pesada a penitência&lt;br /&gt;Do meu pobre coração&lt;br /&gt;Não lhe digas mais que não&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser pobre&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser como sou&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser livre&lt;br /&gt;De escolher com quem eu vou&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser pobre&lt;br /&gt;Mas ser nobre no meu pobre coração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me digas mais que não, não, não, não&lt;br /&gt;Não me digas mais que não&lt;br /&gt;Não me digas mais que não, não, não, não&lt;br /&gt;Não me digas mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me faças mais promessas&lt;br /&gt;Dessas cheias de ilusão&lt;br /&gt;Não lhe vendas mais quimeras&lt;br /&gt;Ao meu pobre coração&lt;br /&gt;Não me digas mais que não&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser pobre&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser como sou&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser livre&lt;br /&gt;De escolher com quem eu vou&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-me ser pobre&lt;br /&gt;Mas ser nobre no meu pobre coração&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SSbWb1fM5BI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0lTZ6tj4SYo/s1600-h/coracao-de-barro-ok.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SSbWb1fM5BI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0lTZ6tj4SYo/s320/coracao-de-barro-ok.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271136187586503698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-1425997258280673602?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1425997258280673602/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1425997258280673602' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1425997258280673602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1425997258280673602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/11/xaile-minha-circunstncia.html' title='Xaile - A minha circunstância'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SSbWb1fM5BI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0lTZ6tj4SYo/s72-c/coracao-de-barro-ok.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3788048890236417556</id><published>2008-11-18T18:17:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-11-18T18:21:02.799Z</updated><title type='text'>O desabafo</title><content type='html'>Afinal retiro o que disse anteriormente.&lt;br /&gt;O que há a tirar de positivo de ser burra duas vezes?&lt;br /&gt;Cair no mesmo erro...&lt;br /&gt;Sou mesmo burra é o que é. Não aprendo.&lt;br /&gt;Tá dito.. fico-me por aqui.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3788048890236417556?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3788048890236417556/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3788048890236417556' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3788048890236417556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3788048890236417556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/11/o-desabafo.html' title='O desabafo'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-9051584384683654809</id><published>2008-11-17T05:09:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-11-17T05:28:58.682Z</updated><title type='text'>(Des)esperança</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Deve-se sempre tirar algo positivo, nem que seja de uma experiência menos boa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Porque receias, se vais ter o que anseias?  Medo...  desilusão e mesmo assim não recuas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Que se passa, qual é a diferença desta para tantas outras vezes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Devias ter ficado com o rapazinho do básico. Aquele de quem tanto gostaste, lembras-te? Que pergunta, claro que te lembras. Mas pode ser que se aproxime a hora de superares isso, pode ser que se aproxime a hora de esqueceres tudo isso, ou por outra, que deixes de recordar tudo isso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Não tenhas medo, não te apoquentes, desde que controles a situação, estarás em segurança. Até te podes mostrar nervosa ao início, mas a seu tempo passará e começarás a descontrair e ficar mais à vontade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Desde que sejas tu própria tudo estará bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Mas até que ponto a pessoa que outrem conhece é a tua própria pessoa?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Até que ponto não foi uma casualidade naquele dia seres assim? É que na verdade não costumas ser assim, pois não?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Espero que o que mostraste nesse dia, fosse a pessoa que és, a faceta que queres dar a conhecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Vai tudo correr bem. Confia em ti. Eu confio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-9051584384683654809?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/9051584384683654809/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=9051584384683654809' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/9051584384683654809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/9051584384683654809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/11/desesperana.html' title='(Des)esperança'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2487787390386670699</id><published>2008-11-14T20:51:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-11-14T22:17:42.200Z</updated><title type='text'>Vazio</title><content type='html'>Vazio que se aproxima como nuvem cinzenta a indicar chuva, desce sobre mim. É um vazio que traz consigo mágoa, dor, lágrimas,...&lt;br /&gt;Quero sorrir e não posso, quero falar e não consigo. É como se algo me prendesse todos os movimentos, todos os sentimentos de felicidade, tudo.&lt;br /&gt;Aquele sentimento falta e muda tudo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2487787390386670699?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2487787390386670699/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2487787390386670699' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2487787390386670699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2487787390386670699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/11/vazio.html' title='Vazio'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6796377037909091522</id><published>2008-11-12T16:02:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-11-12T16:37:52.232Z</updated><title type='text'>Sem título</title><content type='html'>Sensação de perda, apesar de nunca nos termos dado. Dói, mas o que será que dói mais? Saber que havia tanta coisa que sentias e não me contaste ou não ser por mim esse tamanho sentimento? Não queria que o sentisses, confesso. Será que no fundo não queria?&lt;br /&gt;  Mas fico feliz por ti. Gosto de falar contigo quando estás bem. E não gosto mesmo quando não estás bem. É esquisito o que temos, é mais ou menos uma não relação de amizade que implica bastante preocupação amigável. No fundo acho que nunca vou perceber muito bem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6796377037909091522?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6796377037909091522/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6796377037909091522' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6796377037909091522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6796377037909091522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/11/sem-ttulo.html' title='Sem título'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2039820160711300949</id><published>2008-10-11T22:58:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:51:09.534Z</updated><title type='text'>Cansada</title><content type='html'>Sinto-me cansada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2039820160711300949?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2039820160711300949/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2039820160711300949' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2039820160711300949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2039820160711300949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/10/cansada.html' title='Cansada'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7742032006226349954</id><published>2008-09-04T22:49:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T23:52:40.795+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Nervoso miudinho!</title><content type='html'>Estou com um nervosismo insuportável.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto um frio no estômago.&lt;br /&gt;É a primeira vez e é por isso. Será medo também?&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera já ser amanhã à noite e eu já estar em casa muito sossegada a remoer no que já aconteceu. É preferível isso a martirizar-me e estar a sofrer por antecipação.&lt;br /&gt;Cada vez que penso em algo a ver com o assunto, sinto um frio no estômago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7742032006226349954?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7742032006226349954/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7742032006226349954' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7742032006226349954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7742032006226349954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/09/nervoso-miudinho.html' title='Nervoso miudinho!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7880323963004212307</id><published>2008-08-12T22:24:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T22:29:55.470+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The slightest breeze could take you away.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SKIAsn2jtBI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Ra8qTrT66gE/s1600-h/belezaflor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SKIAsn2jtBI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Ra8qTrT66gE/s320/belezaflor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233746483569996818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7880323963004212307?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7880323963004212307/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7880323963004212307' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7880323963004212307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7880323963004212307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/08/slightest-breeze-could-take-you-away.html' title='The slightest breeze could take you away.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SKIAsn2jtBI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Ra8qTrT66gE/s72-c/belezaflor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-560717023348135544</id><published>2008-07-08T05:06:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T05:10:06.152+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Porque os robots também sentem!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SHLoH9srnGI/AAAAAAAAADw/xKr77q7qzWs/s1600-h/Zettai+Kareshi+Absolute+Boyfriend+Nighto%27s+feelings.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SHLoH9srnGI/AAAAAAAAADw/xKr77q7qzWs/s320/Zettai+Kareshi+Absolute+Boyfriend+Nighto%27s+feelings.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220490141594524770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tenjo Night, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Zettai kareshi = Absolute Boyfriend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-560717023348135544?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/560717023348135544/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=560717023348135544' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/560717023348135544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/560717023348135544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/07/porque-os-robots-tambm-sentem.html' title='Porque os robots também sentem!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SHLoH9srnGI/AAAAAAAAADw/xKr77q7qzWs/s72-c/Zettai+Kareshi+Absolute+Boyfriend+Nighto%27s+feelings.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6196405328985483956</id><published>2008-06-22T00:37:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T00:38:54.799+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Frágil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SF2Q-Gw6hKI/AAAAAAAAADQ/o-5eUuITp88/s1600-h/428808_purple_flower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SF2Q-Gw6hKI/AAAAAAAAADQ/o-5eUuITp88/s320/428808_purple_flower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214483340206965922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6196405328985483956?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6196405328985483956/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6196405328985483956' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6196405328985483956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6196405328985483956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/06/frgil.html' title='Frágil'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/SF2Q-Gw6hKI/AAAAAAAAADQ/o-5eUuITp88/s72-c/428808_purple_flower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3030227948727451590</id><published>2008-06-15T03:16:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T03:27:35.909+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Passado e Presente...</title><content type='html'>Lágrimas correm-me pela cara.&lt;br /&gt;Olho para a lua..&lt;br /&gt;tanto tempo... Passou tanto tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Porquê? Pergunto-me. Ao fim de tanto tempo, e ainda estás tão presente em toda a minha vida..&lt;br /&gt;Alguém, alguém que te substitua...&lt;br /&gt;Muito mudou em mim, mas tu permaneces, qual lapa agarrada à rocha da minha vida, das minhas memórias.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Limito-me apenas a deixar umas expressões da Luísa, do filme português "A Outra Margem".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O tempo não arruma as coisas dentro de nós. Pode cobri-las de poeira, mas não as muda de lugar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Só temos uma vida, Ricardo. Devolve-me a minha."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3030227948727451590?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3030227948727451590/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3030227948727451590' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3030227948727451590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3030227948727451590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/06/passado-e-presente.html' title='Passado e Presente...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-5979364442684193005</id><published>2008-06-03T19:19:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T19:25:37.902+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Até quando?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Até quando vou continuar a fingir?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Até quando, esta boa disposição exterior que esconde uma raiva bem lá no fundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Só queria que me deixassem em paz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nem isso consigo ter. Todos os dias, tantas vezes.. Porquê?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não tem de ser assim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não tenho de continuar a engolir tudo o que não quero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tantas vezes, só queria um bocado de paz e sossego. Não é necessário ligar todos os dias...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fraquinho?? Que nojo! Enoja-me! Que se agarre a outras pessoas e largue-me um bocadinho do pé.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quem me dera ser sincera e dizer tudo o que me passa pela cabeça... Mas por enquanto vai continuar a ficar por dizer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Please, I only ask for space. Just leave me alone. Is it askin' too much?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-5979364442684193005?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/5979364442684193005/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=5979364442684193005' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5979364442684193005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5979364442684193005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/06/at-quando.html' title='Até quando?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-8788840404977279203</id><published>2008-05-28T16:01:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T16:05:48.460+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Momentos bons! Também são precisos. ^^</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sinto-me bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Estranhamente sinto-me vazia mas feliz. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Passei momentos tão bons com a minha Sisterhood. Senti que estamos mais unidas, apesar de tudo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não tenho falado com algumas pessoas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sinto de certa forma, algo de esquisito e indiferente em mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mas de maneira geral sinto-me bem e isso é o mais importante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;As coisas não podem correr sempre mal e não nos devemos lamentar sempre. Sinto-me bem e venho brindar a isso :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dias felizes, que me deixam a sentir bem comigo própria, ver amigas que já não via há algum tempo. Tudo isso é  bom! ^^ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-8788840404977279203?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/8788840404977279203/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=8788840404977279203' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8788840404977279203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/8788840404977279203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/05/momentos-bons-tambm-so-precisos.html' title='Momentos bons! Também são precisos. ^^'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-900698119513259329</id><published>2008-05-10T13:09:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T13:24:08.320+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fallin' deep</title><content type='html'>And here I stand, once again there's something bothering me.&lt;br /&gt;Don't know what, though.&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to get out of here, take some fresh air. See other things, different people, just get away from my house, the people I know, from everything I know and I have everyday.&lt;br /&gt;Don't know why, need some distance. I was never like that before. What have changed, for me to behave like this?&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I know is I have to study for that stupid s***.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like me at all. Outside maybe, but the inside is revolving everything. Everything I knew, and it's givin' them new forms, new concepts.&lt;br /&gt;Why is this sadness? Why, this emptiness? This feeling of loneliness?&lt;br /&gt;It's as my world is falling apart.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what should I do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-900698119513259329?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/900698119513259329/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=900698119513259329' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/900698119513259329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/900698119513259329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/05/fallin-deep.html' title='Fallin&apos; deep'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4252712318965555803</id><published>2008-05-08T14:51:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T15:06:29.842+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Para as pessoas que já não estão comigo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E custa a crer...&lt;br /&gt;É difícil acreditar que todas estas pessoas estão realmente a sair da minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;Custa a crer que não as voltarei a ver. Tantas e importantes para mim. Por diversas razões, é certo, mas ainda assim.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me triste. Apesar de não exteriorizar muito acho que isto anda a dar cabo de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me a não dar valor a nada. A viver só porque sim. E é estúpido. É estúpido porque há pessoas neste mundo que passam por pior e não se sentem derrotadas, seguem a vida em frente  e vão a cortar os obstáculos no seu caminho de espada em punho. São pessoas lutadoras, persistentes com a sua vida. E que sabem que esta é um bem demasiadamente precioso para se perder.&lt;br /&gt;Sou fraca. Nunca me aconteceu nada de mais e mesmo assim não luto por mim.&lt;br /&gt;Devia aprender com os exemplos que tanto valorizo.&lt;br /&gt;Se os reconheço e admiro, deveria aprender com eles.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho saudades vossas.&lt;br /&gt;"Tia"&lt;br /&gt;"Avô"&lt;br /&gt;"Amigo", boa pessoa.&lt;br /&gt;"Amiga", mãe dedicada.&lt;br /&gt;Por favor não quero esta lista aumentada.&lt;br /&gt;Já é torturante o suficiente, as pessoas que perdi nos últimos meses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De que vale a pena a vida se já não os temos cá connosco?&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas tão importantes na infância e juventude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retiro o que de melhor aprendi convosco, para que um dia seja eu uma mãe ou avó ou amiga dedicada. Relembro-vos porque foram importantes e não vos esquecerei.&lt;br /&gt;Até um dia, seja ele próximo ou não.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4252712318965555803?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4252712318965555803/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4252712318965555803' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4252712318965555803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4252712318965555803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/05/para-as-pessoas-que-j-no-esto-comigo.html' title='Para as pessoas que já não estão comigo.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2150175547669174627</id><published>2008-04-14T06:06:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T06:16:27.688+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sentimentos inesperados.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;E sinto...&lt;br /&gt;Sinto o que não queria sentir, após um ano isto é inesperado. Penso que estava tudo a correr tão bem, não consigo perceber o que se passou, para esta tonta paixão adolescente.&lt;br /&gt;Se calhar é a prova real de que sou aquilo que digo que sou e não o que muitos pensam.&lt;br /&gt;Se calhar nunca o fui e tudo foi um devaneio meu.&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo acreditar nisso por muita coisa que se passou.&lt;br /&gt;Mas será melhor afastar? Clarear ideias?&lt;br /&gt;Só queria ser normal com aquela pessoa e esquecer tudo isto. Não percebo, sinto que estou a viver algo, mas não por mim, sinto que o estou a viver por outra pessoa. Estou muito cansada e já mal consigo pensar, mas se não viesse escrever isto num  devaneio de sono, provavelmente não o faria.&lt;br /&gt;Porque sinto eu isto? O que é isto? E o que é sentir?&lt;br /&gt;Várias ideias passam pela cabeça...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2150175547669174627?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2150175547669174627/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2150175547669174627' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2150175547669174627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2150175547669174627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/04/sentimentos-inesperados.html' title='Sentimentos inesperados.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4872576936602260196</id><published>2008-04-11T06:28:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T07:09:36.927+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Put your wishes into the memories you do not want to forget!</title><content type='html'>Acabei de ver Ef, a tale of memories.&lt;br /&gt;Dreams, memories, coisas que me dizem tanto...&lt;br /&gt;Não poder recordar mais do que 30 horas, que seria de mim?&lt;br /&gt;Seria desesperante ter de conhecer as pessoas como se fosse a 1ª vez, todos os dias.&lt;br /&gt;Ficar  para sempre na lembrança, memórias de há 4 anos e nada mais. O sofrimento enorme, o espanto ao ver que 4 anos passaram e que estou diferente fisicamente, todos os dias ler o que escrevo, o que quero recordar.&lt;br /&gt;Mas haveria tanto, tanto que as 30 horas não seriam suficientes. Eu não saberia gerir o tempo, de modo a recordar-me e ainda viver esse dia.&lt;br /&gt;Não desistir dos sonhos, aprender quando saímos derrotados e mudar de sonho, nessas alturas.&lt;br /&gt;Lutar por algo que queiras, por muito que doa, quem sabe se amanhã não será um dia melhor. Quando tudo parecer extinto, procura nos traços mais pequenos. Quando encontrares um sinal, segue-o.&lt;br /&gt;Não desistas do amor e principalmente da vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Já é tarde e tenho a sensação de que este post está disparatado. ^^')&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4872576936602260196?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4872576936602260196/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4872576936602260196' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4872576936602260196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4872576936602260196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/04/put-your-wishes-into-memories-you-do.html' title='Put your wishes into the memories you do not want to forget!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4919691727633367582</id><published>2008-03-06T04:21:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-03-06T04:54:00.380Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>Reflexos da lua</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Sento-me na janela e olho para a lua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R893E6DhWwI/AAAAAAAAABo/ehnHFouYYQs/s1600-h/th_1100371592_smoonlight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R893E6DhWwI/AAAAAAAAABo/ehnHFouYYQs/s400/th_1100371592_smoonlight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174485423059196674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;A lua alta, grande, lá no céu, toma a forma dos meus pensamentos, traz-me recordações de um passado, que por vezes fica tão distante, que já não o recordo mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Uma b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;risa ligeira, e os meus cabelos esvoaçam, só eu, o parapeito da janela onde me sen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;to e a luz brilhante da lua, numa noite que ainda há pouco começou e que tem muito para me revelar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;A luz brilhante da lua ilumina o meu quarto, a rua lá em baixo e ponho-me a pensar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Crianças, dou comigo a pensar em crianças, crianças felizes, quiçá filhos meus. Gostava de um dia ser mãe e passear po&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;r jardins com os meus pequenotes. Brincar com eles, ter todo o tempo do mundo para est&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;ar com eles, ensinar-lhes os valores que um progenitor deve ensinar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Nisto o vento sussurra ao meu ouvido, eu sinto um arrepio nos ombros e estremeço levemente. As imagens na minha mente mudam quando volto a olhar a lua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Penso numa carreira profissional que me satisfaça e que me torne conhecida, pode se&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;r e certamente será um pensamento egoísta, mas é verdade, gostava de ser reconhecida por algo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Baixo o olhar até à rua quase deserta, um gato mia, lá em baixo, vejo-o subir a uma árvore. O que será que&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; os gatos pensam de nós? Certamente pensarão coisas diferentes, cada um é diferente do outro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;  Olhando para cima, volto a cruzar o meu olhar com a lua distante, fria, lá em cima, reluzente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Penso na&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; pessoa perfeita, nunca fiz muitos planos, queria apenas alguém verdadeiro, a quem me pudesse entregar e confiar plenamente. Alguém que gostasse verdadeiramente de mim e que gostasse de mim pela pessoa que sou. Da Beleza apenas tenho a dizer, que esta permanece apenas nos olhos de quem vê.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Uma brisa mais forte, fecho o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;s olhos, imagino-me voar no imenso céu escuro. Na realidade pouco me prende, apenas o parapeito.&lt;br /&gt; Imag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;ino-me como num retrato, perfeito como todos o são, cabelos ondulados, esvoaçando com o vento, a lua no alto, muito branca, iluminando tudo em minha volta, eu sentada no parapeito da  janela do meu quarto.  Guardada eternamente nos olhos de um pintor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Noto que a madruga ameaça surgir, então recolho-me.&lt;br /&gt; Por hoje apenas quero a escuridão e a lua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Nout&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;ro dia a luz me será mais necessária.&lt;br /&gt; Assim me vou com sonhos que me embalam, a ternurenta lua por companheira e o vent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;o a mostrar o caminho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4919691727633367582?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4919691727633367582/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4919691727633367582' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4919691727633367582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4919691727633367582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/03/reflexos-da-lua.html' title='Reflexos da lua'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R893E6DhWwI/AAAAAAAAABo/ehnHFouYYQs/s72-c/th_1100371592_smoonlight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-9199253500358662442</id><published>2008-02-24T00:00:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-02-24T00:02:45.919Z</updated><title type='text'>Isso.</title><content type='html'>Tenho saudades tuas, meu anjo.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho saudades de ser inocente, feliz.&lt;br /&gt;Saudade de estar a aprender e de ter  vida toda pela frente.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me a afundar em tristeza.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto como se me estivesse a afogar e absolutamente nada nem ninguém me pudesse salvar.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho de sair do poço, não posso pensar no fundo do poço.&lt;br /&gt;Estou parva e a deprimir-me.&lt;br /&gt;Lamento!&lt;br /&gt;=(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-9199253500358662442?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/9199253500358662442/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=9199253500358662442' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/9199253500358662442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/9199253500358662442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/02/isso.html' title='Isso.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2046321452375364453</id><published>2008-02-19T16:57:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-02-19T18:01:11.108Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Bothered,am I?</title><content type='html'>Is it bothering me?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, probably it is.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even love you, but is a good feelin', the one you were givin' to me.&lt;br /&gt;Anyone knows it feels good when someone watches over you, talk to you, show some interest in you. And if that person stops doin' that, you feel it. It's bad, you don't want it.&lt;br /&gt;You just want that feelin' again.&lt;br /&gt;And that's how I am now, I want to feel that way again.&lt;br /&gt;Honestly and  childishly I hope next time I'll see you, you'll be as usual. But some part inside says you won't. And that's what will happen.&lt;br /&gt;I just have to remind me of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2046321452375364453?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2046321452375364453/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2046321452375364453' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2046321452375364453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2046321452375364453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/02/botheredam-i.html' title='Bothered,am I?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3524853625642428428</id><published>2008-02-09T19:36:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:52:41.121Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Lenore</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Startling news and I started to get aroused.&lt;br /&gt;I walked down the road, hair wavering in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;And then she was. This beautiful maiden with eyes so blue.&lt;br /&gt;She smiled at me. I was deeply lost in her eyes. She walked my direction. I just stare, gazing at her.&lt;br /&gt;[Rascunho]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3524853625642428428?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3524853625642428428/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3524853625642428428' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3524853625642428428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3524853625642428428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/02/lenore.html' title='Lenore'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-455621816545845762</id><published>2008-01-31T19:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-31T19:27:32.996Z</updated><title type='text'>A new beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Quando algo acaba, algo recomeça.&lt;br /&gt;Estou perante uma nova etapa da minha vida. Algo por que já passei mas que não deixa de ser novo.&lt;br /&gt;Exijo a mim própria concentração e força de vontade. Quero ser alguém e não me considero burra, tenho tudo para conseguir vencer na vida. Não deixando para trás os amigos e a família.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me feliz e com vontade de um novo começo.&lt;br /&gt;Vou permitir-me respirar e estudar, divertir-me e ter responsabilidades. Ser parte integrante de eventos fora e dentro da comunidade familiar.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me com coragem de valorizar o trabalho e esforçar-me por ser uma pessoa melhor.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me aliviada por transmitir tudo isto para aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Não vou deixar enfurecer-me nos primeiros dias do meu regresso.&lt;br /&gt;Vou lutar pela minha Sisterhood, pelos meus amigos íntimos, pelas novas pessoas que quero conhecer, mas vou, principalmente, lutar por mim.&lt;br /&gt;Lutar por me assegurar enquanto pessoa neste lugar a que chamamos Mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Lutar por poder afirmar-me como mulher igual e diferente de tantas outras.&lt;br /&gt;Lutar por crescer.&lt;br /&gt;Lutar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-455621816545845762?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/455621816545845762/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=455621816545845762' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/455621816545845762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/455621816545845762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-beginning.html' title='A new beginning'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-9089582069031322689</id><published>2008-01-20T19:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-20T19:47:35.591Z</updated><title type='text'>Pedro Abrunhosa - Lua</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;Mais um dia que acaba&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;e a cidade parece &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;dormir,&lt;br /&gt;da janela vejo a luz que bate no chao&lt;br /&gt;e penso em te possuir.&lt;br /&gt;Noite após noite, ha ja muito tempo,&lt;br /&gt;saio sem saber para onde vou,&lt;br /&gt;chamo por ti, na sombra das ruas,&lt;br /&gt;mas só a lua sabe quem eu sou.&lt;br /&gt;Lua, lua,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;eu quero ver o teu brilhar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;lua, lua, lua,&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero ver o teu sorrir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leva-me contigo,&lt;br /&gt;mostra-me onde estas,&lt;br /&gt;é que o pior castigo&lt;br /&gt;é viver assim, sem luz nem paz,&lt;br /&gt;sozinho com o peso do caminho&lt;br /&gt;que se fez para tras...&lt;br /&gt;Lua, eu quero ver o teu brilhar,&lt;br /&gt;no luar, no luar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homens de chapéu e cigarros compridos&lt;br /&gt;vagueiam pelas ruas com olhares cheios de nada,&lt;br /&gt;mulheres meio despidas encostadas à parede&lt;br /&gt;fazem-me sinais que finjo nao entender.&lt;br /&gt;Loucas sao as noites, que passo sem dormir,&lt;br /&gt;loucas sao as noites.&lt;br /&gt;Os bares estao fechados ja nao ha onde beber,&lt;br /&gt;este silencio escuro nao me deixa adormecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;Loucas sao as noites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Refrao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nao ha saudade sem regresso, nao ha noites sem&lt;br /&gt;madrugada,&lt;br /&gt;Ouco ao longe as guitarras, nas quais vou partir,&lt;br /&gt;na névoa construo a minha estrada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loucas sao as noites, que passo sem dormir,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;loucas sao as noites.&lt;br /&gt;Loucas sao as noites, que passo sem dormir,&lt;br /&gt;loucas sao as noites...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R5OkMkqRzNI/AAAAAAAAABg/GsWkHSCuQXA/s1600-h/bleach_butterfly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R5OkMkqRzNI/AAAAAAAAABg/GsWkHSCuQXA/s320/bleach_butterfly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157646534175739090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-9089582069031322689?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/9089582069031322689/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=9089582069031322689' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/9089582069031322689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/9089582069031322689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/01/lua.html' title='Pedro Abrunhosa - Lua'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R5OkMkqRzNI/AAAAAAAAABg/GsWkHSCuQXA/s72-c/bleach_butterfly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1738207570071465370</id><published>2008-01-01T22:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-01T23:24:30.108Z</updated><title type='text'>A Sacerdotisa (parte 1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Dias após ter acontecido, dei comigo a pensar se teria sido um sonho. Não me via a escapar-me de casa para vaguear sozinha pela noite, não eu.&lt;br /&gt;Quando dei por mim, estava a seguir o vento, a olhar para a lua e para as estrelas.&lt;br /&gt;O vento parecia querer tocar-me, fazia-me festas e a minha roupa esvoaçava. De repente veio-me à cabeça a imagem de uma rapariga, a passear ali sozinha, linda, de longos cabelos ondulando ao sabor do vento. Perdi-me nos pensamentos e nos passos enquanto imaginava a rapariga. Quando dei por mim, não fazia a mais pequena ideia de onde estava, a lua estava já a desaparecer e as nuvens taparam as estrelas.&lt;br /&gt;À minha frente estava um jardim, comecei a indagar, o verde, a pedra dos bancos, o ferro de alguns gradeamentos naquele jardim, tudo chamava por mim.&lt;br /&gt;Entrei pelo jardim adentro. Subitamente vi uma silhueta num dos bancos, o coração bateu mais forte e vi logo que seria ela.&lt;br /&gt; - Sacerdotisa! - chamei. Ela voltou-se o seu longo cabelo a ondular tal como eu imaginara, como da outra vez.&lt;br /&gt; O sorriso da outra vez.&lt;br /&gt; Novamente, falou e eu não a percebi. Não sabendo mais o que fazer, sorri-lhe. Lentamente, a Sacerdotisa se levantou e começou como que a deslizar na minha direcção. Eu estava com o meu olhar fixado  nela, na sua beleza, na estranheza de toda a situação.&lt;br /&gt; Quando se aproximou de mim, senti-me gelar por um lado, mas por outro senti um calor inexplicável.&lt;br /&gt; - Sacerdotisa! - voltei eu chamar. Desta vez as palavras que saíram da minha boca voltaram a ser diferentes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-1738207570071465370?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1738207570071465370/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1738207570071465370' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1738207570071465370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1738207570071465370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2008/01/sacerdotisa-parte-1.html' title='A Sacerdotisa (parte 1)'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7901139995905441435</id><published>2007-12-27T02:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:22:54.081Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics'/><title type='text'>Ana Free - Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Said I'm gonna sad without you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cuz my life is all about you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The ocean stole you from me in its waves&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm gonna move on to live now&lt;br /&gt;Forget about you somehow&lt;br /&gt;Cuz everything I'd hoped for is gone to waste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the sun is setting&lt;br /&gt;Out on the horizon&lt;br /&gt;And over it I try to paint your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my eyes are cloudy&lt;br /&gt;And all I know is how much&lt;br /&gt;I Long for you but I can't have your embrace&lt;br /&gt;I long for you but I just can't find your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna be a long long night to get through&lt;br /&gt;A long long time to find you&lt;br /&gt;A long long list of memories&lt;br /&gt;I'll write down to forget&lt;br /&gt;these&lt;br /&gt;Times I feel mistaken&lt;br /&gt;I thought you'd never leave my heart aching&lt;br /&gt;Look how wrong I was&lt;br /&gt;I gave you all my trust&lt;br /&gt;And now there's no more us&lt;br /&gt;I'm leaving when I find my feet again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to where you used to get me&lt;br /&gt;I'd love you if you'd just let me&lt;br /&gt;I'd swim inside that ocean to get you back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I'm tired of waiting&lt;br /&gt;And if it comes to nothing&lt;br /&gt;Then it's pointless staying here&lt;br /&gt;I'm going back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I've fought for so long&lt;br /&gt;And it's me you turn your back on&lt;br /&gt;I fought for a chance to stay in your embrace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it seems like it's worth none&lt;br /&gt;Somethin' I don wanna have to think on&lt;br /&gt;So over it I try and erase your face&lt;br /&gt;I said over it I try and erase your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148483689601158338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R3MWo0qRzMI/AAAAAAAAABU/7-8QFDLk8GY/s320/sad_girl2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7901139995905441435?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7901139995905441435/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7901139995905441435' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7901139995905441435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7901139995905441435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/12/ana-free-memories.html' title='Ana Free - Memories'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R3MWo0qRzMI/AAAAAAAAABU/7-8QFDLk8GY/s72-c/sad_girl2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-1904358365793981846</id><published>2007-12-24T00:11:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-12-24T00:18:41.621Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics'/><title type='text'>Yuki Song!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R275iEqRzLI/AAAAAAAAABM/oQDV8Jhy550/s1600-h/Ice%2520Queen%2520Statue-Street%2520Entertainment.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147325787892993202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R275iEqRzLI/AAAAAAAAABM/oQDV8Jhy550/s320/Ice%2520Queen%2520Statue-Street%2520Entertainment.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;  Yuki Song&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;(Unknown Dialect)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throwing sparks at my frozen angel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gathering the words to coax the fire to start&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Throwing sparks at my frozen angel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Words to melt the ice around your pretty heart&lt;br /&gt;Turn the ice to water, the water into flood&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The flood becomes a river, a river of pure love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love comes into delta, nourishing the sea&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sea goes out to ocean&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ocean endlessly &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Unknown Dialect)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throwing sparks at my frozen angel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gathering the words to coax the fire to start&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Turn the ice to water, the water into flood&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The flood becomes a river, a river of pure love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love comes into delta, nourishing the sea&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sea goes out to ocean&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ocean endlessly &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Unknown Dialect)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second before you walk into the room&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I had no thoughts of love whatsoever&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love was not on my mind&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nothing but my life,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My life was all settled in,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It was just the way it needed to be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I fell upon you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Like something out of the blue&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It was out of the blue, I didn't know&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I didn't see it coming&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But it came upon me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And it held a hold on me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Took a hold on me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I could not help but believe&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have faith in this thing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have one chance in my life and I must take it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And I've got to give it to you and I will not let it go&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will not let it goIt's the only thing I can believe in.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oh, I can believe in. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Unknown Dialect)&lt;br /&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/4477210355700355079-1904358365793981846?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/1904358365793981846/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=1904358365793981846' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1904358365793981846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/1904358365793981846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/12/yuki-song.html' title='Yuki Song!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R275iEqRzLI/AAAAAAAAABM/oQDV8Jhy550/s72-c/Ice%2520Queen%2520Statue-Street%2520Entertainment.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3318480402558129416</id><published>2007-12-23T21:01:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T01:46:36.876Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>My angel...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R27NCUqRzKI/AAAAAAAAABE/nlwo-euFvfA/s1600-h/P1000490a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147276863920524450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R27NCUqRzKI/AAAAAAAAABE/nlwo-euFvfA/s320/P1000490a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When will my angel be with me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My little angel yell I, come and save me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When will this solitude just fade away?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wasn't made for loneliness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This solitude it hurts me, it is killin' me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Need your help, your guidance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Show yourself to me, my angel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Protect me! Never let me fall again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sorrow has driven me away from my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want so badly to come back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Help me, my angel!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where are you, when you're supposed to be watchin' over me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't let me fade away like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Protect me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O frio irrompe por mim, onde estás tu?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A minha alma desfaz-se aos poucos, procuro-te na noite gélida e sombria, não te encontro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Onde estás?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Toda eu tremo, o frio absorve-me a alma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Onde estás? Começo a correr..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anjo... Anjo da Guarda?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não se vê ninguém, o frio aumenta, custa-me a respirar....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nisto vejo-a.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uma sacerdotisa, distante na noite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A sua voz suave chama por mim.. paro de correr, estou ofegante, o frio.. o frio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não consigo parar de tremer..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não percebo o que ela diz, mas a sua voz acalma-me. Ela é linda..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tem longos cabelos que esvoaçam com o vento.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fico como que hipnotizada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela não se aproxima, continua simplesmente a falar e eu sem a compreender.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Deusa, ajudai-me! - Mas as palavras que saem da minha boca não são estas. Não as percebo, fico arrepiada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; A Sacerdotisa olha para mim e sorri.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se ela me compreendeu, por certo conseguirei compreendê-la também.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas tudo se desfaz, a Sacerdotisa desaparece e eu mesmo sem o sentir corro para casa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3318480402558129416?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3318480402558129416/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3318480402558129416' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3318480402558129416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3318480402558129416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-angel.html' title='My angel...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R27NCUqRzKI/AAAAAAAAABE/nlwo-euFvfA/s72-c/P1000490a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2802598119622996492</id><published>2007-12-05T18:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:21:07.634Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>5 anos</title><content type='html'>E cinco anos passaram desde aquele dia tristíssimo.&lt;br /&gt;Há pouco tempo uma grande amiga me disse que foi o dia em que me viu sofrer verdadeiramente pela primeira vez.&lt;br /&gt;A minha perda foi grande e disso não haja dúvida.&lt;br /&gt;Perdi a pessoa mais importante para mim. A pessoa de quem mais gostei nesta vida. O meu anjinho, a minha avó.&lt;br /&gt;Foi a pessoa que, posso arriscar, mais me amou nesta vida.&lt;br /&gt;É impossível esquecê-la porque me ensinou muito. Só tenho pena de a ter perdido tão cedo na minha vida, pois com 15 anos ainda estamos a crescer, e a família é-nos fundamental.&lt;br /&gt;Gostava de ter vivido e aprendido muito mais com ela.&lt;br /&gt;Ainda me lembro, naquele dia, quando entrei no nosso quarto, o medo que tive de olhar para ela e de lhe tocar, tal era o receio de a sentir fria, morta.&lt;br /&gt;Mal olhei e não aguentei muito tempo lá dentro. Não fui ao funeral. E tudo isso são coisas de que me arrependi mais tarde.&lt;br /&gt;Não me tinha despedido dela naquela manhã, estava atrasada como de costume.&lt;br /&gt;Ao saber da notícia entrei em choque e quem me valeu? Os amigos, os de sempre.&lt;br /&gt;Andei muito angustiada até ter sonhado com o dia da morte do meu anjo, com a única diferença, que me despedia dela naquela manhã, desde então fiquei aliviada e a angústia deixou-me. Restaram apenas as saudades, as que ainda hoje não desapareceram, e a dor da perda.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje consigo olhar para trás e lembrar-me e falar da minha avó sem ter lágrimas nos olhos, mas numa data como a de hoje, em que faz 5 anos que partiste, as lágrimas vieram novamente.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho muitas saudades do meu anjinho, de tudo o que ela fez por mim.&lt;br /&gt;Se tenho muito orgulho quando me dizem quão parecidas somos, por vezes dói-me ver que há coisas em que me diferencio bastante e para pior. Infelizmente isso não me faz lutar para que deixe de ser mais teimosa, preguiçosa, resmungona e egoísta, defeitos que não tinha a minha avó. Teimosa talvez, mas teimava porque achava estar a fazer sempre o melhor para as outras pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;Quero acrescentar que estás viva em mim e que tão cedo não te deixarei morrer nem por mim serás esquecida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140774628314830114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R1ezSZcL1SI/AAAAAAAAAA8/t2LVnxF39Jo/s320/avo+e+paula1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Como podem dizer que morreu quem permanece tão vivo no nosso coração."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2802598119622996492?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2802598119622996492/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2802598119622996492' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2802598119622996492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2802598119622996492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/12/5-anos.html' title='5 anos'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R1ezSZcL1SI/AAAAAAAAAA8/t2LVnxF39Jo/s72-c/avo+e+paula1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-5221344330780965258</id><published>2007-11-24T23:22:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T01:34:51.406Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Never alone!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Se eu disser que quero ser sempre aquela luz. A pessoa invísivel que te protege. Que no mais fundo de mim quero proteger-te de tudo, será que assim consegues compreender como é frustrante a impotência de te ajudar, de te proteger?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É loucura minha e não a pretendo negar. Mas poder-se-á chamar loucura uma vontade gigante de proteger as pessoas de quem mais gosto? De sentir que tenho de estar sempre lá, não as deixar sofrer nem um segundo?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas depois sai-me o tiro pela culatra.. Eu não consigo, não chego lá, não posso fazer nada para proteger.. E aquelas pessoas que tanto quero ver felizes continuam a sofrer, muito provavelmente em silêncio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Também eu sofro... Mas isso é tão irrelevante...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wanted to say no one is ever alone. When anybody thinks it's all over that is nothing that worths fighting for, they're wrong. There's always something valuable enough worthing your strenght, your lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As long as I'm here you're never alone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136554096309748034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R0i0vGgewUI/AAAAAAAAAA0/k1cxFyB8GMM/s320/never%2520alone%25206.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-5221344330780965258?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/5221344330780965258/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=5221344330780965258' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5221344330780965258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5221344330780965258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/11/never-alone.html' title='Never alone!'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R0i0vGgewUI/AAAAAAAAAA0/k1cxFyB8GMM/s72-c/never%2520alone%25206.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3371914639674384238</id><published>2007-11-24T23:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:20:03.130Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics'/><title type='text'>Michelle Branch  (Till I get over you)</title><content type='html'>Tenho um agradecimento especial a fazer à minha mamã 1 que me pôs um vício tremendo por Michelle Branch, cujas músicas vieram assentar que nem uma luva na minha vida. Posso dizer que vieram na altura certa.&lt;br /&gt;Mas estou única e exclusivamente a ouvir Michelle Branch há muitas semanas. E verifiquei hoje que não está a ser muito saudável.&lt;br /&gt;Contudo, decidi postar a letra de uma música que hoje me fez muito sentido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Till I get over you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everytime i feel alone&lt;br /&gt;i can blame it on you&lt;br /&gt;and i do&lt;br /&gt;you got me like a loaded gun,&lt;br /&gt; golden sun, and skies so blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we both know&lt;br /&gt;that we want it&lt;br /&gt;but we both know&lt;br /&gt;you left me no choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chaque fois que tu t'en vas&lt;br /&gt;you just bring me down&lt;br /&gt;je pretends que tout va bien&lt;br /&gt;so I'm counting my tears&lt;br /&gt;till I get over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i watch the world go by&lt;br /&gt;i wonder what it was like&lt;br /&gt;to wake up every single day, smile on your face&lt;br /&gt;you never try&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we both know&lt;br /&gt;we can't change it&lt;br /&gt;but we both know&lt;br /&gt;we'll just have to face it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chaque fois que tu t'en vas&lt;br /&gt;you just bring me down&lt;br /&gt;je pretends que tout va bien&lt;br /&gt;so I'm counting my tears&lt;br /&gt;till I get over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if only i could give you up&lt;br /&gt;would i want to let you off of this soapbox, baby?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we both know&lt;br /&gt;that we want it&lt;br /&gt;but we both know&lt;br /&gt;you left me no choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chaque fois que tu t'en vas&lt;br /&gt;you just bring me down&lt;br /&gt;je pretends que tout va bien&lt;br /&gt;so I'm counting my tears&lt;br /&gt;till I get over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chaque fois que tu t'en vas&lt;br /&gt;je pretends que tout va bien&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we both know&lt;br /&gt;that i'm not over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not over you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3371914639674384238?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3371914639674384238/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3371914639674384238' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3371914639674384238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3371914639674384238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/11/michelle-branch-till-i-get-over-you.html' title='Michelle Branch  (Till I get over you)'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3018416462100593017</id><published>2007-11-19T19:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:21:07.634Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Princesa em busca de sapatinho...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Já passou tanto tempo que achei que já o podia postar aqui. Este texto saiu-me numa altura em que me magoaram bastante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Princesa em busca de sapatinho...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134649527422075186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R0HwimgewTI/AAAAAAAAAAs/BxX9VgOwO8A/s320/cindy-3-sapatinho.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chamaste-me princesa linda e de facto senti-me uma. Tu eras o meu cavaleiro andante, eu tinha tudo para vir a ser uma óptima rainha, mas tudo acabou num dia. E aí senti-me qual Cinderela com o feitiço quebrado... Hoje procuro o sapatinho com que ficaste, na esperança de voltar atrás e poder ter dançado no Baile contigo, minha princesa. Mas não posso, tenho de perceber que tu recuaste e procuras princesinhas a quem oferecer amor e retirar um sapatinho, como o fizeste comigo...&lt;br /&gt;Ainda quero ser a tua princesa linda...&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo de não o poder ser...&lt;br /&gt;Dançar contigo eternamente era o melhor que me podia acontecer... Termos um baile nosso até ao fim dos nossos dias.&lt;br /&gt;Mas o meu cavaleiro andante não me quis. Tenho eu de procurar outros princípes que me queiram mais?&lt;br /&gt;Minha doce princesa volta para mim...&lt;br /&gt;Eu sei que não queres, vou aguentar-me...&lt;br /&gt;Só espero que voltes para mim em breve.&lt;br /&gt;És doce mas inquieta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3018416462100593017?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3018416462100593017/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3018416462100593017' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3018416462100593017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3018416462100593017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/11/princesa-em-busca-de-sapatinho.html' title='Princesa em busca de sapatinho...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R0HwimgewTI/AAAAAAAAAAs/BxX9VgOwO8A/s72-c/cindy-3-sapatinho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3715296209045893156</id><published>2007-11-19T19:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:21:07.634Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>I'm an empty seat.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I feel like an empty seat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone can come sit but they go away a few later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one wants an empty seat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who wants an old dusty bench in a garden? I know probably I would.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But hey that's me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I's how I feel today, like an old, dusty bench in a garden.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one cares about it, no one even looks at it. But it is there all along. Waiting...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bench stands there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's loyal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had never wondered my similiarities with that bench.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the truth is, everyone can use it, leave it, go away with nothing to say, never lookin' back on the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And today I feel like that...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134638287492661538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R0HmUWgewSI/AAAAAAAAAAk/7VhiLSObHhU/s320/DSCI0040.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3715296209045893156?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3715296209045893156/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3715296209045893156' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3715296209045893156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3715296209045893156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-empty-seat.html' title='I&apos;m an empty seat.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/R0HmUWgewSI/AAAAAAAAAAk/7VhiLSObHhU/s72-c/DSCI0040.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2965319110898465347</id><published>2007-11-13T21:42:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:53:04.339Z</updated><title type='text'>Just a girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm a simple girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not really like the others. But I'm simple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wantin' to be happy and to be loved like everybody else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can say I'm an happy girl. But sometimes this happy girl just become sad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2965319110898465347?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2965319110898465347/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2965319110898465347' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2965319110898465347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2965319110898465347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/11/just-girl.html' title='Just a girl.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-213386248299367115</id><published>2007-11-02T13:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-02T13:19:55.937Z</updated><title type='text'>Why do you have to go?</title><content type='html'>Why do you have to go? And why do I have to be here without you?&lt;br /&gt;Without you I'm only a shadow of myself. I need you so.&lt;br /&gt;Need to hug you! To feel the embrace... I miss you so. And you haven't even get away.&lt;br /&gt;How will it be without you around? Not bein' able to be with you, to hug you, the way we usually do.&lt;br /&gt;Not bein' able to see you, to feel you...&lt;br /&gt;Pequenina, I'm gonna miss you so. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/Rysj3twBinI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Nk5e2zQJ7og/s1600-h/sad_butterfly_girl2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/Rysj3twBinI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Nk5e2zQJ7og/s320/sad_butterfly_girl2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128232040772242034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-213386248299367115?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/213386248299367115/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=213386248299367115' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/213386248299367115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/213386248299367115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/11/why-do-you-have-to-go.html' title='Why do you have to go?'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/Rysj3twBinI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Nk5e2zQJ7og/s72-c/sad_butterfly_girl2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7145815653491921240</id><published>2007-09-19T16:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T17:26:20.049+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A pure love.</title><content type='html'>Is it so hard to believe in a pure love?&lt;br /&gt;Is it askin' too much to be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Is it  so bad to love a girl?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why can't everybody be happy and have their  especial one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so lonely. Sometimes I think what have I done wrong not to be  happy in love.&lt;br /&gt;Is it some kind of punishment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everyone's supposed to be happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why can't I be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it askin' too much?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7145815653491921240?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7145815653491921240/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7145815653491921240' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7145815653491921240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7145815653491921240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/09/pure-love.html' title='A pure love.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4326918536392957632</id><published>2007-09-07T10:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T11:20:45.995+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sie.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Sie ist so perfekt!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aquele olhar...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's got Penelope Cruz' eyebrows...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They're so perfect. I can't even tell how her looks make me feel. It's just somethin' expressionless.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107405102989982962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/RuEl4Ye8PPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fdtvy6P21jg/s320/volver03.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4326918536392957632?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4326918536392957632/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4326918536392957632' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4326918536392957632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4326918536392957632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/09/sie.html' title='Sie.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2fG418W3qrw/RuEl4Ye8PPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fdtvy6P21jg/s72-c/volver03.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4421282127126180558</id><published>2007-08-25T21:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T21:31:56.275+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Too tired.</title><content type='html'>Today I feel too tired.&lt;br /&gt;Feel like everything I done was in vain.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm nothing.&lt;br /&gt;And it's completely stupid. 'cause nothin' happened for I'm feelin' like this.&lt;br /&gt;Aww life sucks...&lt;br /&gt;Just wanna feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel fine.&lt;br /&gt;Just it.&lt;br /&gt;And I'd probably be fine.&lt;br /&gt;Or if all my friends were allright.&lt;br /&gt;That would be enough too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bah&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4421282127126180558?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4421282127126180558/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4421282127126180558' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4421282127126180558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4421282127126180558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/08/too-tired.html' title='Too tired.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-766787165462536545</id><published>2007-08-21T11:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:54:06.760Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Dormir</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dormir, uma expressão de inocência ainda se mantém. É bom saber que ainda se pode sentir assim aos 20 anos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-766787165462536545?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/766787165462536545/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=766787165462536545' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/766787165462536545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/766787165462536545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/08/dormir.html' title='Dormir'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-3284334033306421497</id><published>2007-08-21T02:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:21:07.634Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Love, Love , Love! =)</title><content type='html'>You make me feel so good.&lt;br /&gt;The way you love me, it's so incredibly powerful.&lt;br /&gt;I feel I can do anything when I'm with you.&lt;br /&gt;Just keep lovin' me that way. Never ever leave me.&lt;br /&gt;Your eyes, your touch, your smile, I love everything about you.&lt;br /&gt;I will always love you.&lt;br /&gt;And just don't forget you're the love of my life.&lt;br /&gt;I feel so glad to be surrounded by you. You mean everything to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os efeitos de ter visto "If these walls could talk 2" de madrugada.. Fiquei super feliz, faz-me feliz saber que o amor verdadeiro existe e é mais do que um conto de fadas. Pode o Sol não ter espreitado para o meu lado ainda, mas sei que algures em meu redor este Brilho, esta claridade, a felicidade que o Amor traz, faz alguém feliz e isso é o bastante para também eu partilhar esse clima de ânimo, felicidade e de amor.&lt;br /&gt;Bahh pareço uma tola, mas sinto-me feliz por sê-lo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-3284334033306421497?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/3284334033306421497/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=3284334033306421497' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3284334033306421497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/3284334033306421497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/08/love-love-love.html' title='Love, Love , Love! =)'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-5547881078085617276</id><published>2007-08-15T18:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:21:07.635Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Sentimentos..</title><content type='html'>A profundidade do olhar, um toque súbito nas mãos tão macias.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me a perder-me.. a cair eternamente, sem nunca poder voltar. É um sentimento, quase como se não conseguisse respirar. Não o digo, não o mostro, nem sei se o sinto de verdade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Até que ponto é um sentimento, até que ponto o quero levar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um sorriso, lindo, não forçado. Os olhos, os olhos... só de pensar me apetece chorar, tal é a sua beleza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toque, um único toque, arrepios, a suavidade da sua mão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____________________________________________&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Raiva, talvez, de sentir o que sinto.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sei que tudo se vai repetir e serás apenas mais uma..&lt;br /&gt;Mais uma a abandonar-me, a esquecer-me. É o princípio do fim e eu sei.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Só me sinto triste porque pensei (mais uma vez) que as coisas fossem resultar apesar de nem ser muito fácil.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Afastar, é sempre isso que faço.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Porquê? A culpa vai ser minha.. bahh porquê?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Não é suposto alguém compreender. É apenas um desabafo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-5547881078085617276?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/5547881078085617276/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=5547881078085617276' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5547881078085617276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/5547881078085617276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/08/sentimentos.html' title='Sentimentos..'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-7025259531964361327</id><published>2007-08-05T20:17:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T01:12:09.999Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>O índio que queria voar.</title><content type='html'>A pequena águia queria voar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um jovem rapaz que é feliz na sua tribo, com a sua família pode-se considerar livre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas apesar de ser feliz, Pequena Águia também quer voar para fora do ninho, e não é por ser índio que não tem de seguir toda uma série de normas e condutas sociais, muito pelo contrário.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pequena Águia queria voar ao som da música, acompanhado pela Natureza. A Pachamama , mãe terra, ele oferecia o que podia. Pequena Águia adorava dançar. À noite, escapava-se da tenda e cantando alegremente a Inti, pedia desculpa por não o poder fazer de dia, que era quando Inti se mostrava em todo o seu esplendor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sua irmã, Kaysha, escrevia nos quipus histórias lindas de animais, da Natureza, dos deuses, de como algumas músicas eram sobre histórias tristes de outras tribos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pequena Águia, chegou um dia ao pé dos seus pais e estranhou não ver Kaysha, sentada na relva olhando para o vale enquanto escrevia nos seus quipus. Perguntou-lhes então por Kaysha e o pai disse-lhe que tinho ido fazer uma oferenda a Mama Killa. O jovem índio desatou a correr e chorava enquanto no céu uma águia voava, acompanhando-o, e piava agudamente. Por montes, vales e planícies, Pequena Águia continuava a correr chorando.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ao pé de casa os pais abraçaram-se e a mãe tinha lágrimas nos olhos, apesar de não as mostrar nem chorar mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pequena Águia sabia que a irmã não voltaria, tinha sido oferecida em sacrifício à deusa a que tanto orava. Revoltado com Mama Killa, pediu a Inti que a noite nunca chegasse e que Mama Killa não pudesse ver nada lá de cima com a forte luz de Inti a incidir sobre os Andes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas a noite acabou mesmo por chegar e com ela o frio que o pequeno índio sentia e o vazio no seu coração. Tinha um longo futuro à sua frente, não compreendia por que razão Kaysha não o podia ter também. Revoltou-se então com Inti e principalmente com Viracocha. Segundo o rapaz, a culpa seria toda de Viracocha sem o qual não existiria mais nada, e desse modo, Kaysha não lhe poderia ser roubada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuou sempre a andar, já desesperado e sem saber o que fazer, entretanto estava a amanhecer. Dos céus desceu algo que Pequena Águia nunca tinha visto, um dragão com asas de borboleta e presas e garras de águia. Pequena Águia olha espantado, parou mal querendo acreditar no que os seus olhos viam. O dragão dirigiu-se a ele e disse que se chamava Itzpapalotl, que era a borboleta obsidiana, uma deusa azteca. Aquele, lembrava-se de ter ouvido falar nela , mas mal podia crer que tinha a Deusa à sua frente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela disse-lhe que sabia o quanto ele tinha medo da morte da irmã, perguntou-lhe se queria ser livre e voar. Tudo o que Pequena Águia mais queria era poder ser livre, ver o seu medo acalmado, não sofrer mais e voar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto o Sol nascia e Itzpapalotl desaparecia, Pequena Águia transformou-se numa borboleta preta e voou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inti- Deus Sol dos Incas e outros povos peruanos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pachamama - Terra-mãe dos Incas e outros povos peruanos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama Killa - Deusa do Firmamento. Deusa da Lua.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-7025259531964361327?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/7025259531964361327/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=7025259531964361327' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7025259531964361327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/7025259531964361327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/08/o-ndio-que-queria-voar.html' title='O índio que queria voar.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-6252917199345544422</id><published>2007-08-04T05:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:21:07.635Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Love, regrets and sorrows.</title><content type='html'>Today I was thinkin' about love.&lt;br /&gt;  Love one another, bein' happy with someone, it's all so much better than bein' one, standin' all alone, wastin' your youth and your love.&lt;br /&gt;  Love hasn't found me so many times along these years. I guess I can say, I loved too much and received almost none in return. It should be such a wonderful feelin' love and bein' loved back.&lt;br /&gt;  I never felt it, and for that reason I am not a full happy person.&lt;br /&gt;  The ones I loved, I loved a lot. Oh I wish they could love me back then, but they didn't. Not even one.&lt;br /&gt;  Did you love me any time? You wanted me as your girlfriend but never said you loved me. So no one can comply for I never believed your aim was true. Deep deep inside I believe somehow someway you loved me for a while. But we always did our game, no one ever understood.&lt;br /&gt;  So much time as passed between us, and nothin' is left. Not only one memory except those I still keep in my heart. You'll always have your special place there and no one can steal it from you.&lt;br /&gt;but, enough talkin' about you. You're no longer present.&lt;br /&gt;  Why? Why can't I take you off my mind after all these years? No one replaced you yet, I guess that's why.&lt;br /&gt;  Then my life changed a lot. I discovered me a new self with new likes and dislikes, but somehow still the old self. It wasn't easy to put all these feelings together, but I made it. I'm makin' it.&lt;br /&gt;  Met a lot of people. Fell for some, but that's how life is, absolutely surprising.However I had some disappointments, felt a lot of regret and sorrow, I'm still up.&lt;br /&gt;  Sometimes I feel incredibly lonely, feel so lonesome I want to cry, but most of the time I don't even think about it.I know the soul who belongs with mine wanders around. I only hope to someday find it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-6252917199345544422?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/6252917199345544422/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=6252917199345544422' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6252917199345544422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/6252917199345544422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/08/love-regrets-and-sorrows.html' title='Love, regrets and sorrows.'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-696613109698305062</id><published>2007-07-27T20:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:54:06.766Z</updated><title type='text'>Zia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Zia was the last survivor of a small village of the Inca people, in the middle of the jungle in Peru.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since the day she was alone, Zia continued to make her quipus tellin' her story, the story of her village, not knowing who would read it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-696613109698305062?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/696613109698305062/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=696613109698305062' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/696613109698305062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/696613109698305062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/07/zia.html' title='Zia'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-2460114133415197536</id><published>2007-07-21T14:15:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T01:01:57.973Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>The young maid and the cigarrette...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Once upon a time, there was this maid.&lt;br /&gt;She was sittin' in a bar smokin' this long cigarrette.&lt;br /&gt;People stood by, stared at her..&lt;br /&gt;But there she was, just smokin', probably not noticin' them.&lt;br /&gt;All the way she smoked her long cigarrette very slowly, like she did every day.&lt;br /&gt;Her hair was blonde and her eyes so beautiful... The boys and even the girls fell for her looks.&lt;br /&gt;But she wasn't lookin' at them. She was just lookin'.&lt;br /&gt;I bet she probably was about 30. But no one ever knew.&lt;br /&gt;One day, the maid who used to smoke the long cigarrette met a girl, her name was Lucy.&lt;br /&gt;Since the day the maid met Lucy, she was a different person. She started to talk to people, sayin' goodbye and hello. She not only looked at people passin' by, but also smiled at them.&lt;br /&gt;No one could see it, but the maid was in love.&lt;br /&gt;Lucy used to sit in front of her every day, at the same hour.&lt;br /&gt;She just looked at the maid, smiled at her and held her hands in theirs.&lt;br /&gt;Poor Lucy had gone one day. As she came she had gone.&lt;br /&gt;And the maid stopped talkin' again,  her eyes lost their shinin' and she wasn't able ever again to smile.&lt;br /&gt;Now the poor maid cried every day...&lt;br /&gt;No one seemed to care about her.. And there she stood, forgotten, every day, smokin' her long cigarrette.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-2460114133415197536?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/2460114133415197536/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=2460114133415197536' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2460114133415197536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/2460114133415197536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/07/young-maid-and-cigarrette.html' title='The young maid and the cigarrette...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477210355700355079.post-4375021318184388299</id><published>2007-07-21T06:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T00:58:40.686Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Sombras de outrora...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sombras de outrora hoje acordadas em mim.&lt;br /&gt;Sou quem fui, um ser que ainda não esqueci.&lt;br /&gt;Amo, amei, mas sinto-me sozinha.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje as sombras, mostraram-me que estou só.&lt;br /&gt;Sonho com alguém que até hoje não chegou. Sonho, anseio, mas essa pessoa virá?&lt;br /&gt;Estou farta de esperar, houve alturas em que deixei de sonhar.&lt;br /&gt;Há alturas em que  não desespero, em que nem penso nisso, mas hoje aqui estou eu a desesperar por alguém...&lt;br /&gt;E esse alguém teima em não aparecer, em fazer companhia ao meu ser.&lt;br /&gt;Desespero por não ter esse alguém do meu lado. Quero tanto, preciso tanto desse amor..&lt;br /&gt;Sentir aquele carinho, que vejo os outros sentirem, tudo me passa ao lado, tudo.&lt;br /&gt;E começo a desesperar, sinto que a minha sombra vagueia por caminhos onde os outros não passam..&lt;br /&gt;Porque estou eu sozinha, eu que preciso tanto de alguém? ...&lt;br /&gt;Queria um abraço, um passar as mãos pelo cabelo, o ficar horas a olhar para a profundidade dos seus olhos..&lt;br /&gt;E escrevo e sinto, como se tudo isto já se tivesse passado comigo, mas não se passou..&lt;br /&gt;E sinto essa falta.. algo que não tem outro modo de se compensar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;18 de Julho de 2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4477210355700355079-4375021318184388299?l=thedaysofyore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/feeds/4375021318184388299/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4477210355700355079&amp;postID=4375021318184388299' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4375021318184388299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4477210355700355079/posts/default/4375021318184388299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedaysofyore.blogspot.com/2007/07/sombras-de-outrora.html' title='Sombras de outrora...'/><author><name>Pauwinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17738132315549803175</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/_2fG418W3qrw/SdEjz5lNN3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Aww1vnN_-Zg/S220/LitaIsk.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
