<?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-19366317</id><updated>2011-05-28T15:39:08.013+01:00</updated><title type='text'>vida de papel</title><subtitle type='html'>A verdadeira generosidade para com o futuro consiste em dar tudo ao presente. - 
Albert Camus</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>262</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-4600247693726071403</id><published>2006-12-17T00:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-12-09T21:50:20.684Z</updated><title type='text'>ela não fala mais</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CGuk4Toqw-w/RYSRCRB4-mI/AAAAAAAAAAM/S6YIZsZ_sb4/s1600-h/!+00+by+Biliana+Rakocevic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5009288153659931234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CGuk4Toqw-w/RYSRCRB4-mI/AAAAAAAAAAM/S6YIZsZ_sb4/s400/!+00+by+Biliana+Rakocevic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;by Biliana Rakoevic&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que queime tudo. diz. será esse o final de todos os escritos que deixou. tão escassos já.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vejo-a ainda. de preto. quase sempre. um cigarro mais para ter entre dedos, que para o fumar de facto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;viciada? - em gestos. em rituais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;as mãos magras de dedos compridos urgiam um objecto para as usar. o cigarro serviu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;agora que partiu lamento até a falta do gesto de a ver pegar nesse cigarro que não sorvia sofregamente. como não deve ter sequer feito ao seio da mãe. eu, que nem fumo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;partiu. foi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://decaminho.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;de caminho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; viver e contar o que viveu-sentiu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;está, enquanto estiver. e além dos três filhos que deixou vive uma espécie de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://non-morte.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vida e morte &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;com ou sem companhia. mas segue. sabe, há muito, que não há tempo para parar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vou tratar de queimar os papéis. talvez me doa. mas para que servem, como ela diria, &lt;em&gt;os amigos de sangue verdadeiro?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;cabe-me a mim encerrar este blog de parte da história-vida de Maria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;encerrei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-4600247693726071403?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/4600247693726071403/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=4600247693726071403&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/4600247693726071403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/4600247693726071403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/12/ela-no-fala-mais.html' title='ela não fala mais'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CGuk4Toqw-w/RYSRCRB4-mI/AAAAAAAAAAM/S6YIZsZ_sb4/s72-c/!+00+by+Biliana+Rakocevic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-4781253391777705707</id><published>2006-10-10T21:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T21:27:59.394+01:00</updated><title type='text'>mas ela amava-o...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5736/3582/1600/3850749-md%20by%20Elena%20&amp;%20Vitaly%20Vasilieva.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5736/3582/400/3850749-md%20by%20Elena%20%26%20Vitaly%20Vasilieva.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;by Elena &amp;amp; Vitaly Vasilieva&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;como se me ouvisse pensar, noutro papel:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;se te amei? amei sim. amei-te tanto!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;num amor que de início me foi espanto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;depois paixão e riso e noite e sol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fui-te mãe fui-te irmã e fui-te manto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nos frios do deserto onde contigo fui. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fui fui fui!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e num dia não marcado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;dei comigo nesse tempo passado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;disse-te simplesmente: adeus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eu fui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-4781253391777705707?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/4781253391777705707/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=4781253391777705707&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/4781253391777705707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/4781253391777705707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/10/mas-ela-amava-o.html' title='mas ela amava-o...'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-1038470992527115017</id><published>2006-10-05T13:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T13:27:04.815+01:00</updated><title type='text'>mais um papel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/429/2364/1600/schluessel%20michael-bayer.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/429/2364/400/schluessel%20michael-bayer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;michael-bayer&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;embrulhada em mais um papel escrito, deixado ao merceeiro, uma chave banal. dentro da casa leio as palavras breves.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- desculpa-me, Menina, mas promessa é dívida. trata agora de cumprir. lê à vontade e destrói antes da chegada dos corvos, por favor. confio em ti. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;muita vida!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;beijo amigo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;maria.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;a arca sei qual é. via-a muitas vezes quando a visitava. sabia dos discos de vinil e de papéis que ela não mostrava. natural. coisas suas. abro-a. não está cheia. algumas pastas com papéis soltos para além de discos e alguns objectos. não fumo mas hoje preciso de um cigarro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;no sofá aonde sempre a via, sento-me para ler. tenho saudades. é normal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/429/2364/1600/hiding_in_the_dream%20Antoine%20de%20Villiers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/429/2364/400/hiding_in_the_dream%20Antoine%20de%20Villiers.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hiding_in_the_dream Antoine de Villiers&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;amarfanhei em ti todo o meu sonho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;e não sobrou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;uma sequer memória iluminada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;que servisse de herança&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;para deixar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-1038470992527115017?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/1038470992527115017/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=1038470992527115017&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/1038470992527115017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/1038470992527115017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/10/mais-um-papel.html' title='mais um papel'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-115987725766271491</id><published>2006-10-03T12:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T11:01:22.234+01:00</updated><title type='text'>II Parte - da passagem à chave.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20=%200%20060207212804_passado%20RSK%20photography.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="276" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20%3D%200%20060207212804_passado%20RSK%20photography.jpg" width="430" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;RSK photography&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não sou dada a ciúmes patetas, mas o que sabia de Maria até hoje viera de uma amiga comum. nem um sinal directo, uma palavra, uma carta. à preocupação natural juntava-se a mágoa pelo silêncio.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;até hoje, dizia. até um homem novo me trazer uma chave vulgar, embrulhada em papel vegetal. tão sem jeito, tão à maneira dela, só com o meu nome escrito até quase rasgar a folha tranparente.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;- foi uma senhora que mandou entregar, pediu que lhe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;fizesse o combinado se ela não voltasse e que lá fosse agora para escolher o que tinha de ser.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- mais nada?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- não. decorei bem. foi assim mesmo que ela disse.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- estava triste?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- não a conheço bem. só moro lá na rua, mas a mim sorriu ela e, foi-se embora. deu-me uns trocos... dava sempre... e cigarros também. vivo só da pensão da...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;deixei de ouvir. agarrei o embrulho com afecto e fechei a porta para a abrir de novo e meter-me no carro em direcção à rua estreita. tremia. sem entender porquê.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;que fez ela ao passado? deitou tudo para o lixo? raio de mulher!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- o passado? "o passado quando não está bem passado leva-se ao forno outra vez", dizia a Manuela.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;era assim que diria e parece que a oiço. ela atirou-o fora e passou por uma qualquer porta estreita para outro lado. vá eu lá saber qual...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;tenho saudades das conversas com ela até madrugar e ser o sono a empurrar-me porta fora, não a vontade de sair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;isso no tempo em que falava muito e era bom ouvir. depois calou-se. como se tivesse decidido não ter mais nada para dizer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;mentira. tinha pois. tinha era raiva pelo que lhe fizeram mas estava cansada desse falar a que chamava "carpir". não era de ter pena de si própria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;merda, estou para aqui a falar dela no passado e ela está viva ainda. tem de estar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 356px; HEIGHT: 564px" height="673" src="http://www.rskphotography.com/photoblog/images/20060930092451_selfportrait2178.jpg" width="433" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rock Kauser&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;terá ido a Marrocos? ela adorava e dizia que tinha de voltar a ser árabe nem que fosse só mais uma vez. a sua máscara árabe. mulher de máscaras muitas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mas porque mandaria o homem? bastava telefonar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;bem, cheguei. alguma resposta hei-de ter hoje.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-115987725766271491?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/115987725766271491/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=115987725766271491&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/115987725766271491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/115987725766271491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/10/ii-parte-da-passagem-chave.html' title='II Parte - da passagem à chave.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114294947463466610</id><published>2006-03-21T13:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-21T13:57:54.640Z</updated><title type='text'>planta uma árvore hoje</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20esp??rito"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20esp%3F%3Frito%20da%20%3F%3Frvore.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tree spirit by Cali Gorevic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;amanhã os teus filhos terão ar puro e sombra e o espírito da árvore para os acompanhar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114294947463466610?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114294947463466610/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114294947463466610&amp;isPopup=true' title='22 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114294947463466610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114294947463466610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/planta-uma-rvore-hoje.html' title='planta uma árvore hoje'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114293385765798085</id><published>2006-03-21T09:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-21T09:37:37.706Z</updated><title type='text'>Poetry day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://aniap.blogspirit.com/"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20aniap%20Lonely.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lonely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;my gratefulness to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://aniap.blogspirit.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ania-madina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; and through her, to all the photographers of whom I used photographs in this blog, without them it would be surely an inferior space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114293385765798085?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114293385765798085/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114293385765798085&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114293385765798085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114293385765798085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/poetry-day.html' title='Poetry day'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114329087972205188</id><published>2006-03-20T00:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-05T05:26:47.060+01:00</updated><title type='text'>caminante no hay camino</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;se hace camino al andar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;strong&gt; -&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;antónio machado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/C0031444.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/C0031444.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotosearch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;um dia ela não controlou instintos ou palavras. um dia disse tudo o que acumulara anos a fio e fez só o que quis. sentiu-se livre mas durou instantes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;os fariseus de agora, trouxeram água e terra e fizeram da mulher estátua de lama. riram e cuspiram-lhe em roda, até ela não saber mais se era quem eles diziam ou quem tinha sido até áquele dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de cansada sentou-se para pensar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quem eram eles? o que é que lhes devia? se a alguns salvara até a vida porque haveria agora de lhes pedir perdão por ser gente verdadeira com erros verdadeiros?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;então ergueu-se, procurou um rio. mergulhou nele corpo e alma, fez-se líquido puro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/metal-ballad%20Antoine%20de%20Villiers.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Antoine de Villiers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;depois seguiu fazendo o seu caminho e, nunca mais olhou para trás.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114329087972205188?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114329087972205188/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114329087972205188&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114329087972205188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114329087972205188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/caminante-no-hay-camino.html' title='&lt;i&gt;caminante no hay camino&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114329030241699252</id><published>2006-03-19T11:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:20:42.150+01:00</updated><title type='text'>pai!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://k43.pbase.com/g3/57/327757/3/55830132.CopyofRebekah_3opt.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Bryan Miller&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o meu pai era uma estrada recta&lt;br /&gt;árvore erguida, trigo que dá pão&lt;br /&gt;era o poeta que conhece a vida&lt;br /&gt;homem amigo que me dava a mão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o meu pai era árvore que estendia&lt;br /&gt;os braços, como abrigo, a quem viesse&lt;br /&gt;era a esperança onde ela não havia&lt;br /&gt;era carinho aonde o não houvesse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o meu pai foi nuvem que subiu&lt;br /&gt;foi água que regou e fez crescer&lt;br /&gt;foi um cristão sem fé (se já se viu?)&lt;br /&gt;o meu pai não morreu, cansou, partiu.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/pai-madalena.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/pai-madalena.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114329030241699252?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114329030241699252/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114329030241699252&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114329030241699252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114329030241699252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/pai.html' title='pai!'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114264455701605571</id><published>2006-03-18T01:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-18T01:16:48.006Z</updated><title type='text'>para quem aqui passou.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Orchid4%20raenelldawn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Orchid4%20raenelldawn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;at raenelldawn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;alegrando este até breve. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sinceramente não pensava que este blog podia agradar a 14 pessoas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114264455701605571?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114264455701605571/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114264455701605571&amp;isPopup=true' title='19 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114264455701605571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114264455701605571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/para-quem-aqui-passou.html' title='para quem aqui passou.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114252175877924797</id><published>2006-03-16T15:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-16T15:09:18.783Z</updated><title type='text'>adeus e obrigada.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Cycle_10-1028365175lItzhak%20Ben%20Arieh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Cycle_10-1028365175lItzhak%20Ben%20Arieh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Cycle - lItzhak Ben Arieh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fechou-se o ciclo do&lt;em&gt; vida de papel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"&gt;&lt;td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" unselectable="on" height="1"&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo" align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114252175877924797?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114252175877924797/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114252175877924797&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114252175877924797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114252175877924797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/adeus-e-obrigada.html' title='adeus e obrigada.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114252115960259576</id><published>2006-03-16T14:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-16T14:59:19.653Z</updated><title type='text'>dedicatória</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/The_Inner_Child_11-%20Itzhak%20Ben%20Arieh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/The_Inner_Child_11-%20Itzhak%20Ben%20Arieh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Inner Child- Itzhak Ben Arieh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114252115960259576?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114252115960259576/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114252115960259576&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114252115960259576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114252115960259576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/dedicatria.html' title='dedicatória'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114247065827934301</id><published>2006-03-16T00:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-16T01:03:02.763Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo ou fim?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20tumbayev.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20tumbayev.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;at ncf.ca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;afinal, o carnaval passou, deponho a máscara.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114247065827934301?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114247065827934301/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114247065827934301&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114247065827934301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114247065827934301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/intervalo-ou-fim.html' title='intervalo ou fim?'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114246892259718701</id><published>2006-03-16T00:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-16T00:55:10.176Z</updated><title type='text'>a minha casa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20tree%20%20Sinan%20Ariktekin,.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20tree%20%20Sinan%20Ariktekin%2C.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sinan Ariktekin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;minha casa é um castelo de dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;com cortinas de árvores nas janelas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;ouve-se vento, gemidos em redor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;tapo os ouvidos para não escutar, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;são do demónio &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;os sons que vêm delas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;a minha casa é casa de ninguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;castelo onde mataram a princesa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;a minha casa não tem um coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;nem paz nem sonho nem amor ou reza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;a minha casa é espaço adormecido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;no tempo já passado há tempo a mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;era &lt;em&gt;menina moça&lt;/em&gt; quando vim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;cheia de sonhos de &lt;em&gt;casa de meus pais&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Elena%20Vasileva.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Elena%20Vasileva.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;child in dream by Elena Vasileva&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114246892259718701?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114246892259718701/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114246892259718701&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114246892259718701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114246892259718701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/minha-casa.html' title='a minha casa'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114246042160879667</id><published>2006-03-15T21:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-15T22:12:47.240Z</updated><title type='text'>houve dias e meses</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;um ano novo, uma festa em abril, grande por ser a única.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tantos conselhos lhe deram vida adentro mas na hora, naquela hora, estava sozinha corpo e alma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20eb%20Elena%20Vasileva.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20eb%20Elena%20Vasileva.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Elena Vasileva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;jantou com ele, deitaram-se e ficou até ser de manhã.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tinha uma escova de dentes e um pijama a provar que ficava.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nada mais.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mais tarde soube que isso o magoara . tinha levado o acto como sinal de pouca convicção. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não se importou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114246042160879667?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114246042160879667/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114246042160879667&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114246042160879667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114246042160879667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/houve-dias-e-meses.html' title='houve dias e meses'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114241965694065610</id><published>2006-03-15T10:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-16T01:10:40.790Z</updated><title type='text'>quando sozinha e</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dada a pensar desde a infância, não deixava de se perguntar o que a atraía no escritor. o físico? não, não só. a mente? sim, definitivamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uma mente caudalosa de ideias e cultura. de ideias incutidas cedo, rejeitadas tarde e que deixaram marca. outras que lhe brotavam, como na cabeça de um louco brotam brilhantes conceitos, que gostaríamos tanto de poder chamar nossos. ela pelo menos sim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;os loucos e as crianças eram o seu fascínio.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/GJR_0087%20by%20George%20J.%20Reclos.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/GJR_0087%20by%20George%20J.%20Reclos.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;George Reclos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maria aprendera a caminhar em cordas tensas desde o tempo do amor, tempo de melros, mas se isto era amor, era tão diferente do que sentira antes, que mal se atrevia ainda a chamar-lhe isso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- casar, não caso. o meu filho não vai ter por padrasto um homem que eu própria mal conheço. além disso, para quê? nunca foi a minha vocação...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/3430699-lgby%20Majid%20Mohammad%20Alinezhad.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="345" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/3430699-lgby%20Majid%20Mohammad%20Alinezhad.0.jpg" width="342" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;by Majid Mohammad&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- ele é estranho parece que baloiça entre a quase rigidez e uma maleabilidade de acrobata. depois há os silêncios que parecem de pedra mas não são. o olhar invade, fotografa, transforma, desnuda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não sei se é ele que olha ou uma máquina que me regista e me rouba a alma. sou mesmo árabe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ria de si. mas estava inquieta. muito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;- definitivamente eu quero aquele homem. mas será que ele me quer a mim?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;nunca fora segura das suas qualidades. ouvira tantas vezes "ela não é capaz", que acreditara, tanta era a convicção posta nesse dizer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20parede%20by%20Bruno.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20parede%20by%20Bruno.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;by Bruno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tem vezes em que o olho como uma escada agreste a subir com gosto. sempre gostei de percursos difíceis, mas depois parece que fui dar a beco sem saída. a escada não tem fim, só tem muro a fechá-la. saberei eu lidar com isto já?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;mas no sexo esquecia. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;bebiam e amavam-se entre corpos. e os corpos, se livres, acabam sempre por entender-se bem&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1102386996Sylvie%20Blum.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1102386996Sylvie%20Blum.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sylvie Blum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114241965694065610?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114241965694065610/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114241965694065610&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114241965694065610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114241965694065610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/quando-sozinha-e.html' title='quando sozinha e'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114233843984575461</id><published>2006-03-14T12:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-14T12:14:53.166Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20gruta%20%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20gruta%20%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rene M. Hales&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114233843984575461?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114233843984575461/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114233843984575461&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114233843984575461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114233843984575461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/intervalo_14.html' title='intervalo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114233081857251435</id><published>2006-03-14T10:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-14T12:08:24.686Z</updated><title type='text'>despertou</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;com uma frase a ecoar-lhe dentro como um sino:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Louvados sejam os que correm o risco de ser pedra entre as pedras, flor da morte em flores mortas, nu entre os nus – oh louvados sejam."-&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Paulo Briguet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;não entendeu porquê, mas há muito deixara de se questionar sobre o que lhe era estranho. não faria mais nada. tudo o que vivia pareciam cenas de uma peça que lhe tinham dado para interpretar e da qual desconhecia o autor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20ice%20%20by%20Mark%20Dornblaser.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20ice%20%20by%20Mark%20Dornblaser.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;by Mark Dornblaser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- aquele homem é fogo e gelo ao mesmo tempo. qual sobreviverá? as hipóteses seriam mínimas para o gelo, é óbvio ou parece, mas é como se ele se auto congelasse, quando só.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tenho de ir trabalhar. este homem está a tomar demasiado do meu tempo útil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tudo parecia tão simples quando , em viagem, fazíamos versos surrreais a meias.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;raios, o telefone. que máquina esta que eu dispensava bem!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- sim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- olá!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- olá.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- posso ir buscá-la para jantar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;... posso?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- ... pode. até logo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;ela podia bem ter dito :&lt;/em&gt; - não.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;podia. não fora a voz de fogo e as memórias da pele - &lt;/em&gt;pele de bébé!&lt;em&gt; - que ultrapassaram os fios e lhe incendiaram o corpo no instante.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img height="520" src="http://www.terryvision.com/images/photos/FireSky.jpg" width="368" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;at terryvision&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114233081857251435?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114233081857251435/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114233081857251435&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114233081857251435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114233081857251435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/despertou.html' title='despertou'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114226768687045611</id><published>2006-03-13T15:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-13T23:30:09.410Z</updated><title type='text'>olhou a moto estacionada</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;antes de olhar o homem e sorriu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-olá, bom dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- olá. gosta de motos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- desde miúda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- óptimo! quer ir à outra banda?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- você está a perguntar a um cego se quer ver.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20honda%20digilander.libero.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20honda%20digilander.libero.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;at digilander.libero&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;direcção, cabo espichel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- vamos parar. quero mostrar-lhe um sítio especial da minha juventude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;conduziu, quase a pé, até bem perto da falésia. subiu à única pedra branca do lugar. depois encetou caminho até ao areal. ela seguia-o em silêncio.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- ontem estava um dia feroz. bom para morrer. se você não me tem dito que hoje vinha comigo, tinha-me atirado lá de cima.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/=%20death%20%20at%20stofanet.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%3D%20death%20%20at%20stofanet.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;at stofanet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a rapariga exitou no falar. não estava preparada e o homem parecia-lhe tão sério.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- já olhou bem a água? era um&lt;em&gt; splash&lt;/em&gt; de se ouvir em lisboa. ia aparecer em todos os jornais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;se um dia me apetecer coisa parecida, não há-de ser no mar. respeito-o muito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%2013-Rock-Sea.wave.co.nz.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%2013-Rock-Sea.wave.co.nz.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;.wave.co.nz&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- vamos comer uma santola a sezimbra?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- bom programa. isto de falar de suicídio abriu-me o apetite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;riam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;na realidade a rapariga tinha o coração tão pequenino como o de um pardal. mas dar parte de fraca, não estava nos projectos do passeio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;à noite, mal fechou os olhos, viu um pé enorme sobre uma pedra branca, à beira de um abismo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20IMG_2349%20mouser.org.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20IMG_2349%20mouser.org.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;mouser.org&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- estaria ele a falar a sério?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;raio de sentido de humor para quem fala em casar&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114226768687045611?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114226768687045611/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114226768687045611&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114226768687045611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114226768687045611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/olhou-moto-estacionada.html' title='olhou a moto estacionada'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114224808752581541</id><published>2006-03-13T11:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-13T20:27:06.130Z</updated><title type='text'>nada no dia iria ser diferente.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;levantara-se cedo porque sim. por hábito. sem gosto. gosto tinha pela noite, não pela manhã pejada dos ruídos de quem se apressa para trabalhar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/caf??"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/caf%3F%3F%20jjfv.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;jjfv &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;também não gostava de café. sem açucar parecia veneno, com açucar, uma espécie de xarope antigo. tomava-o só pela cafeína, já de cigarro aceso. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- está um sol de fazer doer os olhos a qualquer toupeira. é assim que me sinto, mas em casa não fico, a primavera é para celebrar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hoje acordei ridícula. celebrar a primavera cercada de caixotes, de gigantescos caixotes, onde nem parece viver gente. não terão nada mais para me tirar? a minha opinião nunca contou.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/30347464Anna%20Pagnacco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/30347464Anna%20Pagnacco.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anna Paganacco&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- ainda aí estás? não tinhas de sair? vais deixar o homem especado à espera? olha que ele não é nenhum miúdo já, como eram os outros, pode-se fartar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- vou já. ainda há tempo. também se se fartar que vá. aí está uma coisa boa para me tirar o sono que não tenho!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- julgas que vais ser sempre nova, é?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;está morta por acasalar-me de vez. ao tempo que isto dura! não tem mesmo imaginação para mais. discutir para quê? nunca houve diálogo possível...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- quem dera que a ele lhe apeteça ir até ao campo. tenho sede de papoilas e trigais.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/30347464Anna%20Pagnacco.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20!%20a%20Luis%20Zilhao.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20a%20%21%20a%20Luis%20Zilhao.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Luís Zilhão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- como se a vida fosse isso. devias ter andado na monda para ver se tinhas saudades...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;saiu. era pior o discurso patético, repetido anos a fio, que qualquer acimentada arquitectura.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- até logo mãe. não sei a que horas venho mas não se preocupe. eu telefono se não vier jantar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ia contar-lhe que ele queria casar, a todo o custo, mas para quê? ela iria&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;aplaudir...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114224808752581541?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114224808752581541/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114224808752581541&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114224808752581541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114224808752581541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/nada-no-dia-iria-ser-diferente.html' title='nada no dia iria ser diferente.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114219173111923388</id><published>2006-03-12T19:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-12T19:47:27.200Z</updated><title type='text'>fim do intervalo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20aaa%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20aaa%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rene M. Hales&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114219173111923388?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114219173111923388/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114219173111923388&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114219173111923388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114219173111923388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/fim-do-intervalo_12.html' title='fim do intervalo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114218975151408339</id><published>2006-03-12T18:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-12T18:55:52.003Z</updated><title type='text'>depois de um dia solarengo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;a arte e os girassóis&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20at%20.susan-gardner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20at%20.susan-gardner.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Susan Garden&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20as%20sunflowers%20Gleb%20Goloubetski.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20as%20sunflowers%20Gleb%20Goloubetski.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gleb Goloubetski&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Peter%20Weibel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Peter%20Weibel.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Peter Weibel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20summer_sunflowers%20Ian%20Jackson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20summer_sunflowers%20Ian%20Jackson.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt; Ian Jackson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%2020SunflowersButterfly%20Keith%20Walker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%2020SunflowersButterfly%20Keith%20Walker.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keith Walker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114218975151408339?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114218975151408339/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114218975151408339&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114218975151408339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114218975151408339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/depois-de-um-dia-solarengo.html' title='depois de um dia solarengo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114212073345574112</id><published>2006-03-11T23:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-12T00:00:56.746Z</updated><title type='text'>até segunda.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Paulo%20Madeira.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Paulo%20Madeira.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Paulo Madeira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;apetece-me descansar, até de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/rhododendron_christmas_cheer_small_07.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/rhododendron_christmas_cheer_small_07.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114212073345574112?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114212073345574112/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114212073345574112&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114212073345574112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114212073345574112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/at-segunda.html' title='até segunda.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114209094294451667</id><published>2006-03-11T15:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-13T12:34:11.840Z</updated><title type='text'>escolha uma máscara discreta</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/263996_13Tanya%20Gramatikova.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/263996_13Tanya%20Gramatikova.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Tanya Gramatikova&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;confunda-se com o ambiente por uns tempos, até a &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vontade de voltar a viver, ser de novo maior que&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;as convenções.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(fim do 1º caminho de loucura)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114209094294451667?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114209094294451667/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114209094294451667&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114209094294451667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114209094294451667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/escolha-uma-mscara-discreta.html' title='escolha uma máscara discreta'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114210408039947681</id><published>2006-03-11T15:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T19:16:33.016Z</updated><title type='text'>o veículo certo</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Galope%20et%3F%3Freo%20by%20Joao%20Viegas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Galope etéreo by Joao Viegas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Midnight_flight_2_Large_-med%20photos-of-the-year.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;para os &lt;em&gt;caminhos de loucura&lt;/em&gt; é um cavalo&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;de &lt;em&gt;galope etéreo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;nunca lhe ponha rédeas se quer experimentar a&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;vida em pleno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;único conselho: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;não deixe a sua cabeça correr mais que o cavalo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;corre o risco de se perder no caminho e... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;não voltar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114210408039947681?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114210408039947681/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114210408039947681&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114210408039947681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114210408039947681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/o-veculo-certo.html' title='o veículo certo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114209047588985819</id><published>2006-03-11T15:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T15:21:16.006Z</updated><title type='text'>7º e último passo para a loucura</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/4202670-mdby%20Antonius%20Lecuona.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/4202670-mdby%20Antonius%20Lecuona.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Antonious Lecuona&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;reencontrada a pureza do início, não a guardar, esbanjá-la pelos outros para poder voltar a &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;enlouquecer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114209047588985819?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114209047588985819/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114209047588985819&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114209047588985819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114209047588985819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/7-e-ltimo-passo-para-loucura.html' title='7º e último passo para a loucura'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114208840936876154</id><published>2006-03-11T14:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T14:46:49.373Z</updated><title type='text'>6º passo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/4199573-lg%20by%20Vassilis%20Tagoudis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/4199573-lg%20by%20Vassilis%20Tagoudis.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; by Vassilis Tagoudis&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ao ver uma flor chorar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; fotografar ou escrever um poema mas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não contar a ninguém. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não convém ser internado permaturamente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114208840936876154?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114208840936876154/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114208840936876154&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114208840936876154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114208840936876154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/6-passo.html' title='6º passo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114208670995467871</id><published>2006-03-11T14:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T14:20:28.216Z</updated><title type='text'>5º passo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/3438916-lg%20by%20Denis%20Olivier.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/3438916-lg%20by%20Denis%20Olivier.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;by Denis Olivier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;é fundamental trazer um fruto proibido do paraiso, caso contrário a mágica loucura esvai-se pelos poros e cai-se no real quotidiano.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que enfado!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114208670995467871?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114208670995467871/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114208670995467871&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114208670995467871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114208670995467871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/5-passo.html' title='5º passo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114208573303572334</id><published>2006-03-11T13:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T14:02:17.096Z</updated><title type='text'>4º  passo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/3880959-mdby%20Majid%20Mohammad%20Alinezhad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/3880959-mdby%20Majid%20Mohammad%20Alinezhad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; by Majid Mohammad Alinezhad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;atingido o céu possível não esquecer de perguntar ao criador porque se esmerou &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mais com uns que com outros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114208573303572334?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114208573303572334/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114208573303572334&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114208573303572334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114208573303572334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/4-passo.html' title='4º  passo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114204817742989918</id><published>2006-03-11T03:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T03:39:47.943Z</updated><title type='text'>3º passo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Gelado%20patag??nia"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Gelado%20patag%3F%3Fnia%20by%20Bajy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; by Bajy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;no final da noite, sempre a dois, ir comer um gelado à Patagónia como&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;pequeno almoço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114204817742989918?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114204817742989918/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114204817742989918&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114204817742989918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114204817742989918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/3-passo.html' title='3º passo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114204532769906139</id><published>2006-03-11T02:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T02:48:47.780Z</updated><title type='text'>2º passo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Magic-night%20olli.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Magic-night%20olli.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Magic-night by olli&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;uma noite tão mágica que faça esquecer o espaço e o tempo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;deixando surgir o sol à meia noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114204532769906139?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114204532769906139/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114204532769906139&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114204532769906139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114204532769906139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/2-passo.html' title='2º passo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114203755697362418</id><published>2006-03-11T00:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T01:21:55.140Z</updated><title type='text'>1º passo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Animus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Animus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Animus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ficar horas a ler um livro e aconselhá-lo, sobretudo porque &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não tem letras &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114203755697362418?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114203755697362418/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114203755697362418&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114203755697362418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114203755697362418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/1-passo.html' title='1º passo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114203537881782214</id><published>2006-03-10T23:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T14:28:27.783Z</updated><title type='text'>mudança de máscara</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20aa%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20aa%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rene M. Hales&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ou&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;caminhos de loucura&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114203537881782214?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114203537881782214/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114203537881782214&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114203537881782214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114203537881782214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/mudana-de-mscara.html' title='mudança de máscara'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114199559386008090</id><published>2006-03-10T12:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T20:52:53.966Z</updated><title type='text'>aves da manhã</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20mnh??"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20mnh%3F%3F%20Gunnsi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Gunnsi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sejam as aves da manhã a despertar-me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não quero mais cidades fumarentas de bafos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e automóveis poluentes, rostos sem paz das gentes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;recorro à minha infância e redescubro o essencial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que aqui me falta, quase até ao sufoco de mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;é fuga, eu sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mas temos o direito de fugir daquilo que nos mata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;lentamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;cada um interprete como entenda o meu fugir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;eu quero de novo as aves sobre as àrvores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a erguer-se à hora da saída para a escola e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a saudar-me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;oh, manhãs frescas do passado a aliviar-me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;do abafado cansaço dos despertares de agora!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sou menina de novo. o ar sabe a lavado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;as aves da manhã começam a cantar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e eu saio a correr de bata ao vento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114199559386008090?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114199559386008090/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114199559386008090&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114199559386008090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114199559386008090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/aves-da-manh.html' title='aves da manhã'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114193782034112511</id><published>2006-03-09T20:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-09T20:57:00.496Z</updated><title type='text'>nas minhas travessias do deserto</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20desert%20Cepolina.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20desert%20Cepolina.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Cepolina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;aprendi que as árvores nunca caem a menos que amputadas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20??rvore"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20%3F%3Frvore%20Paul%20Williamson.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Paul Williamson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;viver é a saída. nunca morrer na praia. ainda que ninguém nos dê a mão.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Marco%20Paulo.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Marco%20Paulo.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Marco Paulo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a vida é nossa e nosso é o direito de amar e de sorrir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20L706_Silver_or_Epson%20Lara%20Ellis.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20L706_Silver_or_Epson%20Lara%20Ellis.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Epson Lara Ellis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114193782034112511?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114193782034112511/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114193782034112511&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114193782034112511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114193782034112511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/nas-minhas-travessias-do-deserto.html' title='nas minhas travessias do deserto'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114191028030217469</id><published>2006-03-09T13:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-09T13:36:34.330Z</updated><title type='text'>hoje estou em  silêncio</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;para que à tarde possa falar de ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fizemos um troço duro de vida juntos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/aeg%20amor%20lou????o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/aeg%20amor%20lou%3F%3F%3F%3Fo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amor Loucão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;só ainda não passei a ponte para te reencontrar. talvez ainda tenha por cá o que fazer. talvez&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/amor%20Lou????o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/amor%20Lou%3F%3F%3F%3Fo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Amor Loucão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114191028030217469?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114191028030217469/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114191028030217469&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114191028030217469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114191028030217469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/hoje-estou-em-silncio.html' title='hoje estou em  silêncio'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114184633262558022</id><published>2006-03-08T19:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-08T20:04:22.240Z</updated><title type='text'>todos os dias são dias de Tudo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;havia um Homem que gostava de gente e de bichos.&lt;br /&gt;quando gostava muito de alguém dava-lhe um nome do bicho que essa pessoa, na sua imaginação, lhe sugeria.&lt;br /&gt;havia o &lt;em&gt;galgo&lt;/em&gt;, a &lt;em&gt;marmota-selvagem&lt;/em&gt; e tantos tantos outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um dia, apareceu uma mulher (não sei de que era dia, nesse dia) a quem ele queria dar nome e... não sabia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chamou-lhe &lt;em&gt;bicho&lt;/em&gt;. só. mais tarde &lt;em&gt;bicho fugidío&lt;/em&gt;. depois foi acrescentando adjectivos à palavra &lt;em&gt;bicho&lt;/em&gt;, conforme os dias dessa mulher ou dela na cabeça dele, tanto faz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ela não sabia nadar sem ver o fundo. tinha de saber o que estava no abismo, para lhe perder o medo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1522s_World%20freespirit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1522s_World%20freespirit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;freespirit&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;quando o Homem viu isso: ela fora de pé, feliz a ver as algas e os peixes em cardumes a passar na praia deserta ( tinham ido de &lt;em&gt;charuto&lt;/em&gt; com ele a remar) e a sair da água como se fosse ali o seu meio natural, exclamou:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;meu bicho-das-águas!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nunca ela ouviu nome mais a ver com a sua natureza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;agora, pensando bem, nesse dia não era dia de nada, a não ser &lt;em&gt;dela e dele.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114184633262558022?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114184633262558022/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114184633262558022&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114184633262558022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114184633262558022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/todos-os-dias-so-dias-de-tudo.html' title='todos os dias são dias de Tudo.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114177574098317385</id><published>2006-03-07T23:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-08T00:06:55.060Z</updated><title type='text'>à Catarina</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/GRAM110503-0039%20digital-nature-photography.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/GRAM110503-0039%20digital-nature-photography.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que os melros te despertem pela manhã.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bom dia a todos!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114177574098317385?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114177574098317385/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114177574098317385&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114177574098317385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114177574098317385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/catarina.html' title='à Catarina'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114174501237846324</id><published>2006-03-07T15:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-07T17:30:48.530Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo e</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20b%20hand%20by%20Gianluca%20Nespoli.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20b%20hand%20by%20Gianluca%20Nespoli.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; by Gianluca Nespoli&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;fim da 2ª parte de &lt;em&gt;vida de papel&lt;/em&gt; &lt;vida&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114174501237846324?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114174501237846324/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114174501237846324&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114174501237846324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114174501237846324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/intervalo-e.html' title='intervalo e'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114174295975463653</id><published>2006-03-07T14:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-07T15:18:24.760Z</updated><title type='text'>então, em paz com o mundo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1076636647Lindsay%20Garrett.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1076636647Lindsay%20Garrett.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay Garrett&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;adormeceu.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114174295975463653?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114174295975463653/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114174295975463653&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114174295975463653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114174295975463653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/ento-em-paz-com-o-mundo.html' title='então, em paz com o mundo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114173715913359976</id><published>2006-03-07T13:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T01:52:28.156Z</updated><title type='text'>ele trouxe peixe. ela cozinhou.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/08%20Dennis%20Fagan.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/08%20DEnnis%20Fagan.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Dennis Fagan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;comeram juntos ao ar livre. fizeram uma fogueira.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20cooking%20%20Jef%20Maion%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20cooking%20%20Jef%20Maion%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jef Maion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;depois pesou o silêncio entre os dois e no ar e no céu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;como se nunca se tivessem visto, ou então visto desde o gênesis. como se tudo entre eles estivesse já dito. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;a lua azulou o céu, iluminou as águas. o fresco da primavera desceu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20follybeach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20follybeach.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;follybeach&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- vamos para dentro, padre, ainda adoeces de novo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;ele olhou as fotos deixadas sobre a mesa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- Maria, és minha irmã?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- sim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- ela a mãe. ele o pai. o homem que me levava a pescar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- que é feito dele?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- está vivo e é padre, como era. não o odeies. foi medo. não somos educados para a responsabilidade. pelo menos para essa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- já não o odeio porque te encontrei. era como se ele te tivesse matado, no desejo de que não nascesses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- faz-me só um favor antes que parta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- sim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- chama-me pelo meu nome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- Pedro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- até breve, minha irmã.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- serás padre, de facto?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- não sei. mas nunca mais te perderei de vista. amo-te, Maria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- o meu nome é...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;- não digas. tens o nome da mulher que me deu vida. é lindo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Alexander%20Paulin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Alexander%20Paulin.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Alexander Paulin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- tu sabes porque és Pedro?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- porque a mãe amou aquele homem e o outro Pedro também negou a Cristo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- por três vezes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- leva um casaco. a noite já caiu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114173715913359976?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114173715913359976/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114173715913359976&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114173715913359976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114173715913359976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/ele-trouxe-peixe-ela-cozinhou.html' title='ele trouxe peixe. ela cozinhou.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114169031625007129</id><published>2006-03-07T00:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-07T08:55:57.263Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo (breve)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20by%20Gianluca%20Nespoli.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20by%20Gianluca%20Nespoli.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;by Gianluca Nespoli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114169031625007129?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114169031625007129/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114169031625007129&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114169031625007129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114169031625007129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/intervalo-breve.html' title='intervalo (breve)'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114168641300540838</id><published>2006-03-06T22:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-06T23:26:55.910Z</updated><title type='text'>- vou apanhar ar, começo a sufocar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e tenho de recuperar forças para te deixar em paz nas tuas férias&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- vai sim. não te metas no mar, ainda é cedo. sabes pescar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- acho que sim, em menino havia um senhor que ia ao colégio aos fins de semana e por vezes íamos pescar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tinhas então um amigo? e os teus pais?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- só conheci a minha mãe... por pouco tempo. depois, desapareceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- e o senhor, como era? carinhoso?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sério apenas. dava-me chocolates, saíamos do colégio, dava-me muitos conselhos e livros. depois ia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- velho, novo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20quadro%20Jack%20Morefield%20-.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20quadro%20Jack%20Morefield%20-.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jack Morefiel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- olha, parecido com aquela foto, muito mesmo. ainda que a foto esteja trabalhada, são os mesmos olhos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- vá rua! ou jantamos atum de lata com salada. toca a pescar Pedro!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tu és mesmo Maria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não. adoptei o nome da minha mãe quando a perdi. vai!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sim, patroa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20medo%20Jack%20Morefield%20-.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20medo%20Jack%20Morefield%20-.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jack Morefield&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mãe! quem é aquele? são as tuas fotos. o teu estilo. eu nunca trabalhei assim, nem nunca vi este homem ou a ti com esta fragilidade de menina assustada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que me está a acontecer? quem é o Pedro? quem sou eu? quem foste tu, mãe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114168641300540838?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114168641300540838/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114168641300540838&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114168641300540838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114168641300540838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/vou-apanhar-ar-comeo-sufocar.html' title='- vou apanhar ar, começo a sufocar'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114165480084466711</id><published>2006-03-06T14:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-06T22:57:00.270Z</updated><title type='text'>o hóspede melhorara e a minha amiga</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;veio finalmente à cidade, almoçámos juntas, tentando infrutiferamente, pôr em dia anos de temas em atrazo. mas ela voltava sempre ao &lt;em&gt;padre-que não-é-padre-ainda.&lt;/em&gt; parecia aliviá-la salientar isso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- é tão novo e já entregue áquela espécie de &lt;em&gt;corvos&lt;/em&gt; que parecem granívoros mas, é só a presa baixar a guarda e devoram-na inteira...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20crows%20maniacfilms..jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20crows%20maniacfilms..jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;maniacfilms.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- deixa-te disso. não podes tomar a árvore pela floresta. já passou tanto tempo e eras tão nova. mal sabes como tudo se passou...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- já sei mais do que pensas. a mãe não conseguiu que lhe queimassem todos os papéis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- o que há de novo então?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- era verdade o que contavam à socapa as amigas.&lt;br /&gt;o padre por quem se apaixonou e com o qual, por um maldito acidente, fez um filho, quase a escorraçou. portou-se como se ela fosse o inferno e ele o candido cordeiro do senhor. imoladinho ali, na sua imagem de perfeição que não sobreviveria ao escândalo. &lt;br /&gt;...e ela não falaria, nunca, nunca!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20aa%20lamb-640-480%20%20isleofberneray.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20aa%20lamb-640-480%20%20isleofberneray.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; isleofberneray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;como se um filho se fizesse sozinho! o raio que o parta aonde estiver, se ainda existe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- se a tua mãe o amou não iria gostar que falasses assim...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- amou-o sim, a tola. ela nem queria dizer-lhe, não queria nada dele. depois pensou que ele talvez ficasse feliz por deixar genes directos neste mundo e decidiu contar. como se arrependeu! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mudei de assunto para a acalmar. falámos das viagens dela, da miséria e da guerra que vira e retratara. combinámos jantar dias mais tarde, sem o pp, claro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- aonde foi ela que nunca mais chega?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tive um sonho tão estranho. eu estava a afundar-me e ela estendia-me a mão e eu sabia que era a mão mais certa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Judith%20Geiger%20Donlon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Judith%20Geiger%20Donlon.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Judith%20Geiger%20Donlon.jpg"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Geiger Donlon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114165480084466711?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114165480084466711/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114165480084466711&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114165480084466711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114165480084466711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/o-hspede-melhorara-e-minha-amiga.html' title='o hóspede melhorara e a minha amiga'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114159710186833655</id><published>2006-03-05T22:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-05T23:15:44.483Z</updated><title type='text'>nunca mais dormi bem desde que ele cá está</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tomara que melhore rápido e siga a sua vida. vinha tão preparada para a minha solidão , para corar ao sol correr para o mar, correr no mar, nua como uma eva qualquer. feliz e livre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20correr%20mar%20adentro%20LIBOR%20SPACEK.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20correr%20mar%20adentro%20LIBOR%20SPACEK.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Libor Pacek&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e logo o afogado tinha de ser um padre...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje estou determinada. a casa é minha e as regras também. ele que se habitue. era o que me faltava, fingir o que não sou. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- bom dia p.p. bem descansado?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sim, obrigado. dormi muito melhor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- ainda bem, que hoje temos novidades. primeira, és da minha idade ou ainda mais novo, vais tratar-me por tu como eu a ti. nem sou ovelha tua... não terás problemas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a rir? tu? milagre!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- é que a mim isso alivia um pouco  confesso, alterei  a verdade, ainda não sou padre. vim exactamente para retiro antes dos últimos votos. disse-o um pouco por seres uma mulher sozinha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tudo bem, estás perdoado. agora toma uma toalha e toma um banho quente. é fundamental para a saúde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20toalha%20%20%20Orazio%20Centaro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20toalha%20%20%20Orazio%20Centaro.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Orazio Centaro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- bem me apetecia mas a febre era tanta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- era, dizes bem. agora vai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- diz-me só uma coisa antes que vá, quem é a senhora com o menino, naquela moldura?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1Melmed-Gail%20Nogle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1Melmed-Gail%20Nogle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Melmed Gail Nogle&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- era a minha mãe e o meu irmão...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tens um irmão?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114159710186833655?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114159710186833655/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114159710186833655&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114159710186833655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114159710186833655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/nunca-mais-dormi-bem-desde-que-ele-c.html' title='nunca mais dormi bem desde que ele cá está'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114152246667254130</id><published>2006-03-05T01:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-05T02:14:55.186Z</updated><title type='text'>vou ver como ele está.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;porque é que te foste sem me falar dele mãe? só me lembro de uma mão pequena a fazer-me sinal, onde foi isso?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20480346%20Catarina%20Paramos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20480346%20Catarina%20Paramos.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Catarina Paramos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o resto da história, foi uma amiga tua que me entregou, no meio de uns papéis que lhe tinham sido entregues para que os queimasse e ela não conseguira. a maior parte tinhas deixado a outra, que já os destruíra. isso e duas ou três fotos envelhecidas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20gravura%20Jack%20Morefield%20-.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20gravura%20Jack%20Morefield%20-.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jack Morefiel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;porquê, mãe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- foi você que chegou? então não me abandonou. graças a deus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- abandonar? que parvoíce a sua, padre! fui lá fora apanhar ar e agora vou fazer-lhe uma refeição saudável. vá rezando que antes de terminar já a carne branca e os legumes com ervas aromáticas, lhe saberão a um manjar dos deuses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/MissArabia3.arabianstyles..0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/MissArabia3.arabianstyles..0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;arabianstyles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;(como ela é bonita! no entanto sinto que a contrario por estar aqui, mas trata-me como uma mãe ou uma irmã. estranha mulher...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tem um óptimo aroma. o meu apetite é que é pouco... desculpe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- coma o que conseguir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- diz-me o seu nome, agora?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tanto faz, mas se quiser, chame-me Maria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Maria... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- é, como a vossa virgem, mas sem a santidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114152246667254130?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114152246667254130/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114152246667254130&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114152246667254130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114152246667254130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/vou-ver-como-ele-est.html' title='vou ver como ele está.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114151802271901908</id><published>2006-03-05T00:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-05T00:20:22.796Z</updated><title type='text'>fim do intervalo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Rene%20M.%20Hales.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;masks - personas&lt;/em&gt; by Rene M. Hales&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114151802271901908?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114151802271901908/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114151802271901908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114151802271901908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114151802271901908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/fim-do-intervalo.html' title='fim do intervalo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114150186710909984</id><published>2006-03-04T19:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-04T22:18:19.116Z</updated><title type='text'>deep breath</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20deep%20breath%20Edwina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20deep%20breath%20Edwina.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Edwina&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"&gt;&lt;td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off"&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;homem do mar,&lt;/em&gt; o fundo continua belo como sempre e com pé, para quem sabe nadar como sabias.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Andreas%20Voeltz,.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20a%20Andreas%20Voeltz%2C.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Voeltz&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Maria&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114150186710909984?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114150186710909984/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114150186710909984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114150186710909984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114150186710909984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/deep-breath.html' title='deep breath'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114140733908300327</id><published>2006-03-03T17:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-04T17:47:10.840Z</updated><title type='text'>vivo de mãos vazias</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não espero nada da vida mais do que olhar e escrever até chegar-me a hora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20as%20ma??s"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20as%20ma%3F%3Fs%20Tim%20J.%20phillips.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;J. Phillips&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vez em quando, os meus mortos parecem ter ciúmes de eu ainda estar por cá e voltam, também eles do lado do vento, para que os lembre. foi o que aconteceu e forçou este intervalo, não previsto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20espiga%20.george%20h%20hhuey.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20espiga%20.george%20h%20hhuey.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;h huey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;será feito um filme sobre ti. é óbvio que sabes. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que ele ajude a que as sementes que deixaste na terra saibam bem separar-se do joio. ser trigo e servir de pão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a vocês, amigos, até amanhã, talvez. obrigada.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;vou ler o guião.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114140733908300327?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114140733908300327/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114140733908300327&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114140733908300327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114140733908300327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/vivo-de-mos-vazias.html' title='vivo de mãos vazias'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114138805508816641</id><published>2006-03-03T12:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-03T12:14:15.130Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20cara%20mask.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20cara%20mask.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;at tripod.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114138805508816641?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114138805508816641/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114138805508816641&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114138805508816641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114138805508816641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/intervalo.html' title='intervalo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114137873795697953</id><published>2006-03-03T09:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-03T10:09:03.986Z</updated><title type='text'>encontrei a minha amiga na cidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;saía da farmácia.&lt;br /&gt;teria sido uma festa noite dentro, tanto o que havia para dizer entre nós, não fora a pressa e ansiedade dela por um estranho que deixara em casa, doente, um padre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Maria!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Sara!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20girl%20friends.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20girl%20friends.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; fotosearch&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;é sempre assim se a amizade é real. tinham passado cinco anos depois da morte da mãe dela. partiu sem avisar e só escreveu de Moçambique.&lt;br /&gt;agora ali estava como se fosse ontem, como se nunca tivesse partido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- temos de combinar um jantar prolongado. daqueles que viram a noite. tanta coisa! tanto tempo!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tenho um doente em casa. rigorosamente caíu-me nos braços. quando saí para trazer o médico e vir à farmácia estava a delirar. dizia que o zack estava branco. também falava de mulheres nuas a dançar à sua volta. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;se estivesse sozinha tinha dado uma gargalhada. eu que sou naturista como sabes, ando por causa dele, toda enfarpelada e ele a sonhar com nús.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- essas coisas só acontecem contigo, como sempre.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- tenho de ir. tens o mesmo telefone?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- sim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- vou tratar dele e ligo-te mais tarde.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;foi. com ela é tudo a 200 à hora, porque o motor não dá mais. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fiquei curiosa, confesso. ela odeava padres quando partiu e eu sabia muito bem porquê. que a tinha feito albergar um? que teria amansado aquela&lt;em&gt; fera&lt;/em&gt; amiga?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20after%20death%20.asahi.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20after%20death%20.asahi.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;asahi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- o mar já fez as pazes com a terra. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ele está a dormir. vim só respirar um pouco e pedir-te que me perdoes, mãe. eu não podia deixá-lo lá fora com aquela tempestade... não podia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114137873795697953?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114137873795697953/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114137873795697953&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114137873795697953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114137873795697953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/encontrei-minha-amiga-na-cidade.html' title='encontrei a minha amiga na cidade'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114133827094722555</id><published>2006-03-02T21:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-02T22:26:21.496Z</updated><title type='text'>doutor, é arriscado deixar o padre só?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- por pouco tempo não. a febre daqui a pouco baixa, já o mediquei e a senhora tem a receita. quando chegar dá-lhe nova dose, ele vai melhorar. mas leva tempo, aviso-a. pode ter recaídas e mesmo delirar. sabe o que deve fazer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sei, doutor. eu cuido dele.&lt;br /&gt;até já p.p., adeus zack.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Almor%20Loucao%20a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Almor%20Loucao%20a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Almor Loucao&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o gato perdeu a côr. ficou branco. ele está com medo. anda cá, zack, anda.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Carlos%20Ferreira.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Carlos%20Ferreira.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Carlos Ferreira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;já sei de que é que foges, é das gaivotas. vão atacar-te. foge! vêm em passo de guerra. elas picam e tu não voas. foge!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20dana??"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20dana%3F%3F%20artfacts.net.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;artfacts.net&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;quem são estas loucas? nuas! dançam na minha frente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não são duas é ela. é ela só, à minha volta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;o tecto está a girar. vou fechar os olhos. estou tonto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;zack!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114133827094722555?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114133827094722555/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114133827094722555&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114133827094722555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114133827094722555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/doutor-arriscado-deixar-o-padre-s.html' title='doutor, é arriscado deixar o padre só?'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114130038687432236</id><published>2006-03-02T11:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-02T12:28:43.583Z</updated><title type='text'>- então doutor, quer dizer que...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20estender%20fotosearch.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20estender%20fotosearch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; fotosearch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Dr_Patient_1%20.workcover.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- que dizer que, se vive sózinho, tem de ser internado. a exposição à chuva e o manter-se molhado duas horas antes de bater a uma porta, sabe-se lá porquê, lhe arranjou um problema sério, a tratar com cuidado antes que degenere em pneumonia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- doutor, que disparate é esse de internar o p.p.?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não há alternativa minha senhora. a febre está muito alta e ele vai necessitar de cuidados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- ele fica onde está. eu volto à cidade pelos medicamentos e ocupo-me dele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- porquê?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- você mesma disse que ia arranjar trabalho...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- mas por agora não preciso. vendi há pouco no jornal duas reportagens. é o que faço.&lt;br /&gt;não há discussão. fica e pronto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- padre, acho que é o mais sensato. o hospital está cheio. isto foi quase epidémico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(nem o médico entende. ele sabe que sou padre e insiste em deixar-me sozinho aqui. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;com ela por perto como hei-de explicar-lhe porque prefiro ir?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20dedos%20Ren??"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20dedos%20Ren%3F%3F%20Andersson.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; René Andersson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(os dedos dele, poisados sobre a cama, parece que tocam os meus sem os mover...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- vamos doutor, vou só vestir o blusão, ainda chove. tenho de vir preparar-lhe uma refeição quente.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/05-_vulnerability%20Cynthia%20Zordich.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/05-_vulnerability%20Cynthia%20Zordich.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Cynthia Zordich&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(ela parece tão vulnerável. estou a ser um tonto, um fraco. é da febre. só pode ser da febre.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114130038687432236?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114130038687432236/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114130038687432236&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114130038687432236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114130038687432236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/ento-doutor-quer-dizer-que.html' title='- então doutor, quer dizer que...'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114124987502732610</id><published>2006-03-01T21:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-01T22:30:56.016Z</updated><title type='text'>estou em casa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;de uma mulher de quem nem sei o nome, guardado por um gato preto. cheio de febre. meu deus, que podia desejar de mais absurdo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ela é caridosa, não quero ser ingrato mas, é mulher e... bonita, interesante. se fosse supersticioso diria que a culpa é do gato preto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anda cá bichano, estou a tentar brincar com uma situação nada confortável para mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Autumn%20capecodartassoc.org.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Autumn%20capecodartassoc.org.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;capecodartassoc.&lt;/strong&gt;org&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;quer ele lá saber dos meus problemas. vou subir ao quarto e ver o mar. estar sozinho numa casa estranha deprime-me, ou será antes o &lt;i&gt;medo&lt;/i&gt; de que ela chegue e do que o médico possa dizer. eu não posso ficar nesta casa com ela, não posso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20526404%20%20ABrito.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20526404%20%20ABrito.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; ABrito&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;só mergulhei com aquele mar porque a vi nua, deitada nas rochas, como uma aparição. lutei por aquilo em que creio, mas o mar e a terra não colaboraram: veio a tempestade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e continua. mal se destingue, lá fora, o mar da terra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Beach%20Mary%20Lang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Beach%20Mary%20Lang.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mary Lang&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tenho de voltar para baixo antes que ela chegue. além disso tenho frio, a febre está a subir. sinto-a bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mas temo-a porquê? lido todos os dias com mulheres.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114124987502732610?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114124987502732610/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114124987502732610&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114124987502732610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114124987502732610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/03/estou-em-casa.html' title='&lt;b&gt;estou em casa&lt;/b&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114117063266595477</id><published>2006-02-28T23:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-01T00:08:50.733Z</updated><title type='text'>ANIVERSÁRIO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20%20dkdix.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20%20dkdix.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dkdix&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fiança&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;A borboleta não sabe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Da suas asas, nem lembra da forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Do seu passado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;A borboleta é&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Uma sensação,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Um lembrete da primavera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Que já passou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Fausto Wolff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;À &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://mulher50a60.weblog.com.pt/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lique &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;para que viva em eterna primavera. PARABÉNS, Menina!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114117063266595477?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114117063266595477/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114117063266595477&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114117063266595477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114117063266595477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/aniversrio.html' title='ANIVERSÁRIO'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114116903878577324</id><published>2006-02-28T23:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-28T23:23:59.050Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo (muito breve, por acontecimento a ver já)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Mascarade%20Itzhak%20Ben%20Arieh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Mascarade%20Itzhak%20Ben%20Arieh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Itzhak Ben Arieh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114116903878577324?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114116903878577324/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114116903878577324&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114116903878577324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114116903878577324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/intervalo-muito-breve-por.html' title='intervalo (muito breve, por acontecimento a ver já)'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114116095722909878</id><published>2006-02-28T20:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-10T22:35:00.996Z</updated><title type='text'>- que luxo, zack, pequeno almoço pronto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%200breakfast%20.casadasquintas.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%200breakfast%20.casadasquintas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; casadasquintas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;estás o perfeito animal de companhia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- começa cedo a ironizar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- desculpe-me p.p., obrigada. não precisava mesmo, como muito pouco pela manhã...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- pp?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- diminutivo de pe pedro, soa bem, não soa? ou ofende-o?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- de todo. já comecei a conhecer-lhe o estilo,você nunca quer ofender ninguém.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não quero mesmo. como passou a noite?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- um pouco febril, acho, com arrepios constantes apesar do calor óptimo da sala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- vamos ver isso já, tenho um termómetro na caixa de prontos socorros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20470332%20Ricardo%20Resende.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20470332%20Ricardo%20Resende.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ricardo Resende&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- então?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-você está cheio de febre. tome o pequeno almoço que eu vou à cidade buscar um médico. não me espantava que tivesse arranjado uma pneumonia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- que disparate.leve-me e eu trato-me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tem quem o trate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- ali não, vim para reflexão, estou sozinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- então cale-se e coma p.p., eu não demoro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tenho de trocar de roupa, olha como chove ainda! e eu ia de túnica e sandálias...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%2044074Margarida%20Delgado.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%2044074Margarida%20Delgado.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Margarida Delgado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- estou pronta. zack, toma conta do padre.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fui.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114116095722909878?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114116095722909878/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114116095722909878&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114116095722909878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114116095722909878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/que-luxo-zack-pequeno-almoo-pronto.html' title='- que luxo, zack, pequeno almoço pronto'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114109467477842156</id><published>2006-02-28T02:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-28T03:28:28.536Z</updated><title type='text'>- quer uma bebida?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;nem sei bem que tenho para lhe oferecer, eu bebo cacau... ah, tenho bourbon, trouxe da viagem, foi oferta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- obrigado, aceito. acho que até por dentro arrefeci.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20copo%20Rohr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20copo%20Rohr.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rohr &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- garantiram-me que era puro e artesanal, se isso é bom ou mau, diga-me depois, para eu reclamar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;agora, já mais confortáveis, posso perguntar-lhe quem é?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- que vergonha! nem me apresentei. chamo-me pedro vaz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- pedro do &lt;em&gt;santo&lt;/em&gt; e vaz do &lt;em&gt;caminha&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- pedro do santo, sim, famílias católicas sabe como é...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- por acaso não sei, mas tanto faz, aprendo com os outros. já estou habituada. e que é que faz?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sou padre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de que é que ri?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- desculpe, venho do deserto, não estou habituada a controlar expressões. ri porque o visualizei mais como druída , perdendo a batalha com a natureza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20druida.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20druida.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;do que como padre católico representando o todo poderoso. com vestes femininas e sinais que quase ninguém entende e são para isso mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20padre.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20padre.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- não é crente ou não gosta de padres?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- padre é lá coisa de que seja preciso gostar? vieram para ficar e pronto. são uma realidade como outra qualquer. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- tem mágoa na voz...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- eu tenho é sono. também fui apanhada na praia e assustei-me quando o vi na água, pensei que estava a ter visões, das más.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- irónica e fugidia já vi que é.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- hoje, padre pedro, não vai ter tempo para ver mais nada que a cama está à espera e o gato também. só tenho um quarto mas a sala está quente e a lareira acesa tome esta manta, é pura lã. se tiver fome o frigorífico foi recheado ontem à noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;descanse bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- salvou-me a vida, sabe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- salvei-lhe o quê? você morre por pouco... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;anda zack!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- boa noite. durma em paz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/18%20Gabor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/18%20Gabor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Gabor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tinha de ser padre! e se eu lhe tivesse aberto a porta como estava, nua, diz-me espelho meu, teria fugido? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114109467477842156?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114109467477842156/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114109467477842156&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114109467477842156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114109467477842156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/quer-uma-bebida.html' title='- quer uma bebida?'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114108090487382495</id><published>2006-02-27T22:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-28T00:13:52.983Z</updated><title type='text'>será que o estereo ainda funciona?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;passar sem música é quase como não ter pão, salvo o exagero...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;óptimo! este meu velho amigo ainda não falhou. que é que vou ouvir para afastar as ideias da visão na praia? deixa-me ver... Brahams, é isso. e agora vou para perto da fogueira com o meu gato.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20fireplace%20geliosoft.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20fireplace%20geliosoft.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;geliosoft&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;zack, malandreco já me roubaste o lugar preferido. tem um lado bom, deixas-me o colo livre para me sentar descansada a ler um livro novo. estamos em férias, zack! esperemos que por pouco tempo mas, em férias.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que é isto? bateram à porta ou foi a ventania que se levantou e está mais forte. não gosto quando o vento sobe de intensidade.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;espera... é mesmo a porta. quem poderá ser neste ermo? lá terei eu de me vestir... droga!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- já vou! só um momento.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20%20paulo%20cesar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20%20paulo%20cesar.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;paulo cesar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; sim?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- deixe-me entrar, por favor! quase me afoguei e estou gelado...não há outra casa perto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- e a sua?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- é junto à cidade mas o carro não pegava de manhã, vim a pé, hábitos de meio ermita, fui apanhado por esta tempestade inesperada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(eu vou arrepender-me disto, mas o zack sabe atirar-se-lhe à cara se ele se atrever, ou eu espero que sim.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- entre. tenho a lareira acesa. num intante está seco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- obrigado. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20499505%20Jos??"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20499505%20Jos%3F%3F%20Borges.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;José Borges&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(como ele é atraente! ou serei eu que ando há tempo demais longe do ocidente? que ele não me veja olhá-lo assim.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-zack, temos visitas. um homem que veio trazido pelo vento. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114108090487382495?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114108090487382495/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114108090487382495&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114108090487382495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114108090487382495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/ser-que-o-estereo-ainda-funciona.html' title='&lt;i&gt;será que o estereo ainda funciona?&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114105703273169899</id><published>2006-02-27T15:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-27T16:51:42.233Z</updated><title type='text'> nem olhes para mim, zack.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;devo vir com cara de quem viu fantasma e será que não vi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a trovoada surgiu de repente, são normais em março, mas tão súbita esta que até a mim espantou. e acredita, estou habituada a vê-las, até gosto. gosto de tudo o que é intenso, como de ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Mary%20Lang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Mary%20Lang.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mary Lang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;o escuro reflexo no mar é que a anunciou. nada mais. nem vento nem trovão, escuro só. quando ergui os olhos vi o céu e apressei-me a sair da água.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;já devias ter aprendido a ir buscar-me a toalha, zack, estou encharcada. só esse teu ar indiferente para me fazer rir agora...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas quem era aquele louco ou louca que ficou na água? por aqui não vive ninguém. mas efeito luminoso de um raio, não foi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20daughterMcDonald.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20daughterMcDonald.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;McDonald &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sabes que já atravessámos meio mundo sózinhos, sem medos patetas, no entanto quando a chuva parou, eu comecei a sentir o mundo ao contrário.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20cove%20Mary%20Lang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20cove%20Mary%20Lang.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mary Lang &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;estranha e única sensação. cobarde, nem olhei para trás e subi a duna a correr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mas a tempestade não passou. olha como as gaivotas se agitam no ar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20wings%20Alex.%20H.%20Hamilton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20wings%20Alex.%20H.%20Hamilton.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Alex. H. Hamilton&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vou acender a lareira. estou gelada.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas quem ficou na praia com um tempo assim?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114105703273169899?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114105703273169899/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114105703273169899&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114105703273169899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114105703273169899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/nem-olhes-para-mim-zack.html' title='&lt;i&gt; nem olhes para mim, zack.&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114100901496071367</id><published>2006-02-27T02:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-27T04:05:57.276Z</updated><title type='text'>bom dia!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fizeste bem em acordar-me. preciso comer qualquer coisa e apanhar ar. pelo teu aspecto calmo, já bebeste o leite que deixei na taça.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Atthewidow%20skinbase.org.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Atthewidow%20skinbase.org.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Atthewidow skinbase.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;somos dois bons parceiros, zack. companheios de longas viagens, que nunca discutem ou amuam. tu às vezes foges se te zangas mas, o apetite devolve-te num instante a amizade.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;se quiseres fica aí. eu vou tomar o cacau da manhã. trouxe uma saca, puro. sei que dá mais trabalho mas, desde que aprendi, dá-me um tremendo gosto fazer eu. confessemos, sem máquina não sei se teria coragem, ainda estou cansada. foram muitos quilómetros.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20manh??"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20manh%3F%3F%20Espoo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Espoo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bela a manhã.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hoje não faço mais que apanhar sol e caminhar à toa. amanhã vou à cidade procurar trabalho ou não teremos como voltar à estrada. também precisamos comida, uns livros e alguma roupa, a minha está no fio.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;raios, porque é que não podemos andar nús?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;porque têm as religiões medo à nudez? não vou filofofar à beira mar numa manhã radiosa. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Jerry%20%20Avenaim.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Jerry%20%20Avenaim.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jerry Avenaim&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;por isso mantenho esta casa solitária. eu aqui posso ir nua onde quiser. vou tomar banho. zack, aposto que tu ficas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114100901496071367?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114100901496071367/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114100901496071367&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114100901496071367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114100901496071367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/bom-dia.html' title='bom dia!'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114095946035218474</id><published>2006-02-26T12:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-27T15:52:01.733Z</updated><title type='text'>olha zack, estamos a chegar à última etapa</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;tu conheces-me, já não sei dormir numa cidade. dói-me tudo. a cabeça. os ouvidos. a cidade tem ruídos a mais, mesmo na noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20dogmouth.net.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20dogmouth.net.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;dogmouth.net&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;isso, salta do jeep, sente o ar. na primavera os pinheiros em flor lavam os pulmões do pó de qualquer estrada. foram eles e o rio que me fizeram &lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ceder, com mais alegria, à tua vontade de parar. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20pine2%20Kent%20Holloway.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kent Holloway&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a casa... como tem um ar abandonado! mas eu sei que, por dentro, está intacta. pago para que a mantenham e confio na amiga que vigia e orienta , ainda que a não veja há anos já.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;há tanta história ligada a esta casa. se tivéssemos intenção de ficar, mandaria pintá-la de branco, branco puro.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20asa_florestal%20carlo%20sbarros.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20asa_florestal%20carlo%20sbarros.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;carlos barros&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;por vezes é bom chegar a uma casa com cheiro conhecido. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;já está água na chaleira a aquecer. e, zack, para de tentar caçar. trouxe-te ração de luxo da cidade, para variar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Inside-Pine-Tree-2%20.learn-photography.co.uk.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Inside-Pine-Tree-2%20.learn-photography.co.uk.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;learn-photography.co.uk&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;esta noite vamos dormir dentro de um tronco de árvore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;estou cansada e feliz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114095946035218474?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114095946035218474/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114095946035218474&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114095946035218474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114095946035218474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/olha-zack-estamos-chegar-ltima-etapa.html' title='&lt;i&gt;olha zack, estamos a chegar à última etapa&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114089303511463946</id><published>2006-02-25T18:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-25T18:44:08.513Z</updated><title type='text'>chego do lado do vento.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20sebasti??o"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20sebasti%3F%3Fo%20salgado.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;sebastião salgado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;venho com os olhos cansados de tanto pó, tanta cor e tanta, mas tanta fome.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Andy%20Merz,.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Andy%20Merz%2C.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Andy Merz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;eu sei, ninguém me chamou. mas tomei eu por destino não ter terra, ter o mundo. não ter onde regressar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vou e paro aonde posso, apenas para descansar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sou nómada, nasci assim e sem sequer poder dizer a que tribo pertenci , num tal remoto passado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/4818337by%20Pat%20Bell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/4818337by%20Pat%20Bell.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;by Pat Bell&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;desta vez foi o meu gato que se eriçou de alegria ao passar nessa cidade onde o rio é mais azul. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;faço-lhe sempre a vontade. como não seria assim se somos dois vagabundos matando a sede com mundos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/52Cepolina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/52Cepolina.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Cepolina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vou parar, beber um chá. a seguir dormir, numa cama que iremos escolher macia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;depois? depois se verá. - amanhã é outro dia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(continua)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114089303511463946?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114089303511463946/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114089303511463946&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114089303511463946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114089303511463946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/chego-do-lado-do-vento.html' title='chego do lado do vento.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114082439248553909</id><published>2006-02-24T23:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-25T23:13:09.453Z</updated><title type='text'>mas quem é aquela que saltou para o palco?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/15gabor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/15gabor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gabor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não é do grupo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- ainda não vamos iniciar a peça mas pouco falta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tirem-na dali!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- tarde. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tenho raiva a mais na alma&lt;br /&gt;se a não passar a palavras&lt;br /&gt;ela rebenta-me a mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tem força de mil petardos&lt;br /&gt;é certeira como dardos&lt;br /&gt;sempre que me sinto assim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não me roubem a palavra&lt;br /&gt;nunca o fizeram, aliás.&lt;br /&gt;nem mesmo antes do tempo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;em que a liberdade não era&lt;br /&gt;mais que quimera de alguns&lt;br /&gt;e hoje ainda escrevo e falo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que a palavra sempre lavra&lt;br /&gt;se dita na hora certa.&lt;br /&gt;a palavra é chão de paz. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- estranho, saíu do palco e desapareceu... onde terá ido?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- pior, deixou as roupas à porta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- é louca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- e não somos nós?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114082439248553909?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114082439248553909/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114082439248553909&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114082439248553909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114082439248553909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/mas-quem-aquela-que-saltou-para-o.html' title='&lt;i&gt;mas quem é aquela que saltou para o palco?&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114074377085208527</id><published>2006-02-24T01:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-24T01:21:04.286Z</updated><title type='text'>fim do intervalo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20a%20venezian-carnival.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20a%20venezian-carnival.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;art.org. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a seguir, próxima &lt;i&gt;vida de papel&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114074377085208527?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114074377085208527/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114074377085208527&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114074377085208527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114074377085208527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/fim-do-intervalo.html' title='fim do intervalo.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114073911180436873</id><published>2006-02-23T23:51:00.001Z</published><updated>2006-02-25T23:14:56.330Z</updated><title type='text'>o  cinzeiro azul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20267.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20267.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;come-se na mesinha como se fosse ao balcão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fumam-se cigarros e apagam-se a meio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;despeja-se o cinzeiro e &lt;i&gt;mais tarde se lava&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;acabam-se os sonhos, dá-nos para pensar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tão dia após dia, tão noite após noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;lá fora começa o espaço silêncio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que dá para contar tão pequenas coisas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;rotineiros fumos que se sabe, sobem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ah, os sonhos enrolados em cigarros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que queimei na vida dos últimos anos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;merda, envelhecer é bonito para quem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não viveu, ou o contrário?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;pronto, isto é já sono, vou lavar o cinzeiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e tentar dormir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;dormir? quem estou eu a convencer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114073911180436873?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114073911180436873/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114073911180436873&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114073911180436873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114073911180436873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/o-cinzeiro-azul.html' title='o  cinzeiro azul'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114070758133450288</id><published>2006-02-23T15:05:00.001Z</published><updated>2006-02-24T00:59:01.570Z</updated><title type='text'>Obrigada Amigo, pela arte e a coerência.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/pastor_de_cabras%20alquimista%20net.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/pastor_de_cabras%20alquimista%20net.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só ouve o brado da terra&lt;br /&gt;Quem dentro dela&lt;br /&gt;Veio a nascer&lt;br /&gt;Agora é que pinta o bago&lt;br /&gt;Agora é qu'isto&lt;br /&gt;vai aquecer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cala-te ó clarim da morte&lt;br /&gt;Que a tua sorte&lt;br /&gt;Não hei-de eu querer&lt;br /&gt;Mal haja a noite assassina&lt;br /&gt;E quem domina&lt;br /&gt;Sem nos vencer &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cobrem-se os campos de gelo&lt;br /&gt;Já não se ouve&lt;br /&gt;O galo cantor&lt;br /&gt;Andam os lobos à solta&lt;br /&gt;Pega no teu&lt;br /&gt;Cajado, pastor&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homem de costas vergadas&lt;br /&gt;De unhas cravadas&lt;br /&gt;Na pele a arder&lt;br /&gt;É minha a tua canseira&lt;br /&gt;Mas há quem queira&lt;br /&gt;Ver-te sofrer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anda ver o Deus banqueiro&lt;br /&gt;Que engana à hora e&lt;br /&gt;que rouba ao mês&lt;br /&gt;Há milhões no mundo inteiro&lt;br /&gt;O galinheiro é de&lt;br /&gt;dois ou três.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;José Afonso &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114070758133450288?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114070758133450288/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114070758133450288&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114070758133450288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114070758133450288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/obrigada-amigo-pela-arte-e-coerncia_23.html' title='Obrigada Amigo, pela arte e a coerência.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114065469154395284</id><published>2006-02-23T00:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-23T00:31:31.670Z</updated><title type='text'>via-se bem</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20sol%20la??fora"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20sol%20la%3F%3Ffora%20Swanage%20Railway.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Swanage Railway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"&gt;&lt;td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;via-se bem, eu estava a mais na Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;acabei por gostar, habituar-me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;seja lá pelo que for, pensei agradecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;deixei-lhe filhos meus, que mais podia?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que a preservem e guardem até onde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a bondade que tinham, permitir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;deles não sei. foram pelos caminhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;escolhidos, ou como os insectos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;levados pelo vento até às flores.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a Terra está velhinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;filhos, tratem-lhe as dores!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr hb_tag="1" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" height="1" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114065469154395284?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114065469154395284/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114065469154395284&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114065469154395284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114065469154395284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/via-se-bem.html' title='via-se bem'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114057036156950508</id><published>2006-02-22T00:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-22T18:48:13.880Z</updated><title type='text'>democracia, regressa a casa que não é tarde - ivano fossati</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 370px; HEIGHT: 280px" height="256" src="http://www.nicholsoncartoons.com.au/cartoons/new/2005-02-04%20Bush%20wants%20democracy%20in%20Saudi%20Arabia%20450.JPG" width="338" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/197446Dickson%20Junior%20%28Galeria.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Dickson Junior&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%204113792-md%20by%20Toto%20Rino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%204113792-md%20by%20Toto%20Rino.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;by Toto Rino&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;quando os &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;vendilhões dos templos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; entram todos em cena... já não sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/aaaa1%20channeladvisor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/aaaa1%20channeladvisor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; channeladvisor&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/cn_gushhala%20Neil%20Folberg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/cn_gushhala%20Neil%20Folberg.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Neil Folberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ah, "os sepulcros caiados" estão intactos, Cristo!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114057036156950508?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114057036156950508/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114057036156950508&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114057036156950508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114057036156950508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/democracia-regressa-casa-que-no-tarde.html' title='democracia, regressa a casa que não é tarde - ivano fossati'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114054800547816125</id><published>2006-02-21T18:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-21T19:51:35.193Z</updated><title type='text'>breves palavras de amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20by%20Alec%20Ee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20by%20Alec%20Ee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;by Alec Ee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não sou pássaro de gaiola - disse-lhe ela.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nem eu, meu amor, quero prender-te - disse ele.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;riram os dois, acreditando em tudo o que o amor dizia entre eles, doce quente!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;formam-se mais depressa as ilhas quando chove e morre a verdade no verde fosso de água que as circunda.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fa&lt;align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;lta-me o vento , o ar - disse ela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não me amas? - disse ele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;chegado o tempo das amoras, ele voltou a casa e não a viu. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;só um papel branco sobre a mesa:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- adeus meu amor, &lt;em&gt;eu&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;vou com as aves.&lt;/em&gt; *&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20by%20Jerry%20Ting.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20by%20Jerry%20Ting.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by Jerry Ting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;consta que não a entendeu. e, no entanto, ela avisara desde início...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*Eug. Andrade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114054800547816125?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114054800547816125/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114054800547816125&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114054800547816125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114054800547816125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/breves-palavras-de-amor.html' title='breves palavras de amor'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114046286615731591</id><published>2006-02-20T18:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-20T19:16:53.326Z</updated><title type='text'>Alone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/cn_nahaldis%20Neil%20Folberg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/cn_nahaldis%20Neil%20Folberg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From childhood's hour I have not been&lt;br /&gt;As others were; I have not seen&lt;br /&gt;As others saw; I could not bring&lt;br /&gt;My passions from a common spring.&lt;br /&gt;From the same source I have not taken&lt;br /&gt;My sorrow; I could not awaken&lt;br /&gt;My heart to joy at the same tone;&lt;br /&gt;And all I loved, I loved alone.&lt;br /&gt;Then- in my childhood, in the dawn&lt;br /&gt;Of a most stormy life- was drawn&lt;br /&gt;From every depth of good and ill&lt;br /&gt;The mystery which binds me still:&lt;br /&gt;From the torrent, or the fountain,&lt;br /&gt;From the red cliff of the mountain,&lt;br /&gt;From the sun that round me rolled&lt;br /&gt;In its autumn tint of gold,&lt;br /&gt;From the lightning in the sky&lt;br /&gt;As it passed me flying by,&lt;br /&gt;From the thunder and the storm,&lt;br /&gt;And the cloud that took the form&lt;br /&gt;(When the rest of Heaven was blue)&lt;br /&gt;Of a demon in my view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EdgarAllan Poe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114046286615731591?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114046286615731591/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114046286615731591&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114046286615731591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114046286615731591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/alone.html' title='Alone'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-114038302238661653</id><published>2006-02-19T20:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-19T21:03:42.426Z</updated><title type='text'>nem tudo o que parece é</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20A6MX5F%20Alamy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20A6MX5F%20Alamy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a vida parece morte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando a dor é o mais forte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-114038302238661653?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/114038302238661653/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=114038302238661653&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114038302238661653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/114038302238661653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/nem-tudo-o-que-parece.html' title='nem tudo o que parece é'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113993681753396878</id><published>2006-02-14T16:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-14T17:38:12.903Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20partida%20Stig%20MArlo%20Weston.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20partida%20Stig%20MArlo%20Weston.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Stig Marlo Weston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fragmentada, dividida&lt;br /&gt;onde o inteiro de mim&lt;br /&gt;em que eu acoitava a vida?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;foram-se os anos passando&lt;br /&gt;foi-se somando loucura&lt;br /&gt;áquela graça que tinha&lt;br /&gt;(ou não tinha?) vez em quando.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;agora louca varrida&lt;br /&gt;já não me importa o que pensem&lt;br /&gt;nem que digam os demais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grito por ti, meu amor.&lt;br /&gt;tanto amo ou tanto amei!?&lt;br /&gt;conjugações irreais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um amor assim não morre.&lt;br /&gt;faz inveja raiva até,&lt;br /&gt;para matá-lo tudo corre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah, mas inda estou de pé!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oiçam a minha loucura&lt;br /&gt;dizer-vos que este amor é&lt;br /&gt;aquele que se procura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vi o mar, mergulhei fundo&lt;br /&gt;arrastei algas e conchas&lt;br /&gt;mas de um gole, bebi o Mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20conchas%20Mr.%20William%20Folsom,%20NOAA,%20NMFS,.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20conchas%20Mr.%20William%20Folsom%2C%20NOAA%2C%20NMFS%2C.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mr. William Folsom, NOAA, NMFS&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113993681753396878?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113993681753396878/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113993681753396878&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113993681753396878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113993681753396878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/stig-marlo-weston-fragmentada-dividida.html' title=''/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113991928028161998</id><published>2006-02-14T12:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-14T16:49:25.410Z</updated><title type='text'>alguém me enviou</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;este poema para vos oferecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height="270" src="http://www.mooishi.com/photography/galleries/3_beauty/3_pearl/page_1/01_annak.jpg" width="350" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;annak &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Touched by An Angel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We, unaccustomed to courage&lt;br /&gt;exiles from delight&lt;br /&gt;live coiled in shells of loneliness&lt;br /&gt;until love leaves its high holy temple&lt;br /&gt;and comes into our sight&lt;br /&gt;to liberate us into life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love arrives&lt;br /&gt;and in its train come ecstasies&lt;br /&gt;old memories of pleasure&lt;br /&gt;ancient histories of pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet if we are bold,&lt;br /&gt;love strikes away the chains of fear&lt;br /&gt;from our souls.&lt;br /&gt;We are weaned from our timidity&lt;br /&gt;In the flush of love's light&lt;br /&gt;we dare be brave&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly we see&lt;br /&gt;that love costs all we are&lt;br /&gt;and will ever be.&lt;br /&gt;Yet it is only love&lt;br /&gt;which sets us free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;by Maya Angelou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(desculpem-me mas nunca traduzo poesia.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113991928028161998?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113991928028161998/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113991928028161998&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113991928028161998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113991928028161998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/algum-me-enviou.html' title='alguém me enviou'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113990786956407853</id><published>2006-02-14T08:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-14T09:11:22.566Z</updated><title type='text'>a preto e branco</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a preto e branco ou quase&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vejo eu agora a vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ou queria ver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas há ainda gente que se ama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gente que passa abraçada nas ruas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ou se entrelaça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de janelas fechadas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;para quem é de fora&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Lovers-lacrymosaIndustry-copyleft%20lacrymosa.tuxfamily.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Lovers-lacrymosaIndustry-copyleft%20lacrymosa.tuxfamily.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;at lacrymosa.tuxfamily&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;desse entrelaçar de amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que só a dois se vive.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sim, tanta gente ainda ama &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que sorriu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pego no pincel da natureza &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e dou&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;um toque de cor a este meu dia&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que seria igual a tantos outros&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não fosse a maravilha dos amantes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que se abrem em flor.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20azalea5%20Andy%20Jones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20azalea5%20Andy%20Jones.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Andy Jones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;---------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;BOM DIA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113990786956407853?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113990786956407853/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113990786956407853&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113990786956407853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113990786956407853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/preto-e-branco.html' title='a preto e branco'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113987531967833848</id><published>2006-02-13T23:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-14T00:16:20.010Z</updated><title type='text'>sem poesia.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20455.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20455.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;o centro do mundo não sou eu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;nem a &lt;em&gt;lucky &lt;/em&gt;que me lambe a mão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;é o trabalho que retomo amanhã &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e me garante minimamente, o pão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113987531967833848?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113987531967833848/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113987531967833848&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113987531967833848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113987531967833848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/sem-poesia.html' title='sem poesia.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113987343790330605</id><published>2006-02-13T23:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-13T23:38:10.036Z</updated><title type='text'>uma romã como sangue no gelo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.artisjoy.com/images/pomtreelg.jpg" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;artisjoy.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;um sorriso para ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113987343790330605?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113987343790330605/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113987343790330605&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113987343790330605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113987343790330605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/uma-rom-como-sangue-no-gelo.html' title='uma romã como sangue no gelo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113987106576716255</id><published>2006-02-13T22:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-13T22:51:05.770Z</updated><title type='text'>escolhas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;as minhas maiores alegrias fizeram de mim a árvore amputada que hoje sou.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20444.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20444.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;vá lá uma mulher adivinhar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113987106576716255?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113987106576716255/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113987106576716255&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113987106576716255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113987106576716255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/escolhas.html' title='escolhas'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113986422070890991</id><published>2006-02-13T20:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-13T20:57:04.926Z</updated><title type='text'>o percurso dos melros</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;chego a casa, atiro com a mala. não encontro o isqueiro. faço uma festa à cadela.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- vou ver os melros e já volto. volto já.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;conhece- esses sons e fica calma. anoitece lá fora.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20494.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20494.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;quem me conhece sabe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20497.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20497.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que amo melros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20499.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20499.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;quem me ama ou amou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20497.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20497.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sabe porquê&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20500.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sei um ninho.  eles sabem que eu sei e não se importam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Imagem%20501.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Imagem%20501.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;amar e conhecer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113986422070890991?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113986422070890991/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113986422070890991&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113986422070890991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113986422070890991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/o-percurso-dos-melros.html' title='o percurso dos melros'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113984870910000340</id><published>2006-02-13T16:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-13T16:38:29.170Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20orangerose027a%20Andy%20Jones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20orangerose027a%20Andy%20Jones.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Andy Jones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;doeu bem mais a flor que nunca deste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que a noite longa que sempre partilhaste.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20A%20SOLID??O"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20A%20SOLID%3F%3FO%20%20Pamela%20Colander.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pamela Colander.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113984870910000340?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113984870910000340/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113984870910000340&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113984870910000340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113984870910000340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/andy-jonesdoeu-bem-mais-flor-que-nunca.html' title=''/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113977720345692639</id><published>2006-02-12T20:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-12T22:11:14.343Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/music%20Itzhak%20Ben-Arieh%20(.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/music%20Itzhak%20Ben-Arieh%20%28.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Itzhak Ben-Arieh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;quis ser mar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fiquei-me som das ondas&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pois tu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;rio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;secaste sem desaguar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;em mim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113977720345692639?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113977720345692639/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113977720345692639&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113977720345692639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113977720345692639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/itzhak-ben-arieh-quis-ser-mar-fiquei.html' title=''/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113975506506158935</id><published>2006-02-12T14:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-12T14:58:46.880Z</updated><title type='text'>temporária mudança</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/8673Dan%20McCormack.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/8673Dan%20McCormack.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Dan McCormack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;há planos muito inclinados. eu estou num.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;daí que este espaço mude, por uns tempos, de estilo e tenha menos entradas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;até lá, tratem de ser felizes e deixar os outros em paz. ajuda muito.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113975506506158935?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113975506506158935/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113975506506158935&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113975506506158935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113975506506158935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/temporria-mudana.html' title='temporária mudança'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113970173914005831</id><published>2006-02-11T23:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-12T00:22:13.726Z</updated><title type='text'>tanta hipocrizia tenho visto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/2%20Jerry%20Ting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/2%20Jerry%20Ting.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote id="3206a075"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a pretexto da Liberdade de Expressão, que Sempre defendi. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a alguns custou muito a ganhar, usem-na sempre!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/2493433-lg%20by%20Jerry%20Beasley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/2493433-lg%20by%20Jerry%20Beasley.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;by Jerry Beasley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mas Atenção, para se manter a Liberdade é necessária a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sabedoria e a arte de um bicho-de-seda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113970173914005831?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113970173914005831/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113970173914005831&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113970173914005831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113970173914005831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/tanta-hipocrizia-tenho-visto.html' title='tanta hipocrizia tenho visto'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113969059954265252</id><published>2006-02-11T20:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-11T22:00:48.686Z</updated><title type='text'>Um Adeus Português</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/h%20sophie%20thouvenin.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/h%20sophie%20thouvenin.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;sophie thouvenin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nos teus olhos altamente perigosos&lt;br /&gt;vigora ainda o mais rigoroso amor&lt;br /&gt;a luz dos ombros pura e a sombra&lt;br /&gt;duma angústia já purificada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não tu não podias ficar presa comigo&lt;br /&gt;à roda em que apodreço&lt;br /&gt;apodrecemos&lt;br /&gt;a esta pata ensangüentada que vacila&lt;br /&gt;quase medita&lt;br /&gt;e avança mugindo pelo túnel&lt;br /&gt;de uma velha dor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não podias ficar nesta cadeira&lt;br /&gt;onde passo o dia burocrático&lt;br /&gt;o dia-a-dia da miséria&lt;br /&gt;que sobe aos olhos vem às mãos&lt;br /&gt;aos sorrisos&lt;br /&gt;ao amor mal soletrado&lt;br /&gt;à estupidez ao desespero sem boca&lt;br /&gt;ao medo perfilado&lt;br /&gt;à alegria sonâmbula à vírgula maníaca&lt;br /&gt;do modo funcionário de viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não podias ficar nesta casa comigo&lt;br /&gt;em trânsito mortal até ao dia sórdido&lt;br /&gt;canino&lt;br /&gt;policial&lt;br /&gt;até ao dia que não vem da promessa&lt;br /&gt;puríssima da madrugada&lt;br /&gt;mas da miséria de uma noite gerada&lt;br /&gt;por um dia igual&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não podias ficar presa comigo&lt;br /&gt;à pequena dor que cada um de nós&lt;br /&gt;traz docemente pela mão&lt;br /&gt;a esta pequena dor à portuguesa&lt;br /&gt;tão mansa quase vegetal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas tu não mereces esta cidade não mereces &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;esta roda de náusea em que giramos&lt;br /&gt;até à idiotia&lt;br /&gt;esta pequena morte&lt;br /&gt;e o seu minucioso e porco ritual&lt;br /&gt;esta nossa razão absurda de ser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não tu és da cidade aventureira&lt;br /&gt;da cidade onde o amor encontra as suas ruas&lt;br /&gt;e o cemitério ardente&lt;br /&gt;da sua morte&lt;br /&gt;tu és da cidade onde vives por um fio&lt;br /&gt;de puro acaso&lt;br /&gt;onde morres ou vives não de asfixia&lt;br /&gt;mas às mãos de uma aventura de um comércio puro&lt;br /&gt;sem a moeda falsa do bem e do mal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nesta curva tão terna e lancinante&lt;br /&gt;que vai ser que já é o teu desaparecimento&lt;br /&gt;digo-te adeus&lt;br /&gt;e como um adolescente&lt;br /&gt;tropeço de ternura&lt;br /&gt;por ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alexandre O'Neill&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113969059954265252?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113969059954265252/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113969059954265252&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113969059954265252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113969059954265252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/um-adeus-portugus.html' title='Um Adeus Português'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113968942778616765</id><published>2006-02-11T20:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-11T20:23:47.916Z</updated><title type='text'>epílogo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;um papel que sobrou.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%2053025198%20at%20Naturephoto%202002-2006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%2053025198%20at%20Naturephoto%202002-2006.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;at Nature photo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;enquanto cantar ainda um cisne negro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Tom%20Wakefield.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Tom%20Wakefield.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Tom Wakefield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;contarei eu a história que sobrou.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113968942778616765?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113968942778616765/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113968942778616765&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113968942778616765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113968942778616765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/eplogo.html' title='epílogo'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113961696473584863</id><published>2006-02-11T00:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-11T00:18:19.796Z</updated><title type='text'>cai o pano</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/4558640Andreas%20IA,.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/4558640Andreas%20IA%2C.5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Andreas IA,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sobre a primeira &lt;i&gt;vida de papel&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"&gt;&lt;td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" unselectable="on" height="1"&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113961696473584863?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113961696473584863/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113961696473584863&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113961696473584863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113961696473584863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/cai-o-pano.html' title='cai o pano'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113961665172970716</id><published>2006-02-11T00:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-11T00:11:15.346Z</updated><title type='text'>quem sabe um dia? quem sabe?...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Dan%20McCormack.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Dan%20McCormack.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;  Dan McCormack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113961665172970716?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113961665172970716/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113961665172970716&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113961665172970716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113961665172970716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/quem-sabe-um-dia-quem-sabe.html' title='quem sabe um dia? quem sabe?...'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113961410141624038</id><published>2006-02-10T22:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-11T03:09:27.560Z</updated><title type='text'>ao ler a frase, vejo-lhe o sorriso.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- desculpem-me amigos, é a última vez. não vos chateio mais. até logo. obrigada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;junto aos documentos legais, cartas de amor e desamor de parte a parte, fotos antigas. poemas breves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nem mais um fragmento de história escrita, pelo menos na arca que me legou, para destruir. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;sobe-me a angústia do por fazer ainda. porquê Maria? para quê?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/0232howard%20schatz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/0232howard%20schatz.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;howard schatz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/pai-madalena.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/200/pai-madalena.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;recuperada por D.L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Eligiusz%20Langner%20(ennio).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20a%20Eligiusz%20Langner%20%28ennio%29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Eligiusz Langner (ennio)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/00-082--34%20by%20Don%20Erickson.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/00-082--34%20by%20Don%20Erickson.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;by Don Erickson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Allan%20Jenkins1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/200/%21%20Allan%20Jenkins1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Allan Jenkins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/pai-madalena.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20kepeslap_1133art.transindex..jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/%21%20kepeslap_1133art.transindex..jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; art.transindex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/fereti1%20gavin%20o"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/fereti1%20gavin%20o%27neill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;gavin o'neill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Rico.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/200/Rico.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Rico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/200545Dickson%20Junior%20(Galeria.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/320/200545Dickson%20Junior%20%28Galeria.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Dickson Junior&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113961410141624038?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113961410141624038/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113961410141624038&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113961410141624038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113961410141624038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/ao-ler-frase-vejo-lhe-o-sorriso.html' title='ao ler a frase, vejo-lhe o sorriso.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113958252826579863</id><published>2006-02-10T14:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-10T14:42:08.306Z</updated><title type='text'>eu falarei de corvos quando chegar a hora</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 388px; HEIGHT: 201px" height="380" src="http://www.photo.net/photo/pcd2899/raven-15.3.jpg" width="616" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:philg@mit.edu"&gt;philg@mit.edu&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e de tês árvores de raízes expostas, porque lhes retiraram a terra que era mãe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%203%20bra??os"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%203%20bra%3F%3Fos%20de%20mim%20CNYenter%20Photography.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CNYenter Photography.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;eu falarei.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113958252826579863?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113958252826579863/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113958252826579863&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113958252826579863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113958252826579863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/eu-falarei-de-corvos-quando-chegar.html' title='eu falarei de corvos quando chegar a hora'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113956275332717758</id><published>2006-02-10T09:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-12T15:02:35.336Z</updated><title type='text'>o que faz de mim ET</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://mulher50a60.weblog.com.pt/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Lique&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; pregou-me a partida, a &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://palavrejando.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MP &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;foi a mensageira da desgraça&lt;br /&gt;e eu... cumpro o meu destino. aqui vão cinco manias que carrego desde a infância:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20%20apanhar%20%20z.about.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20%20apanhar%20%20z.about.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;at z.about.com&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;1 - dar nome a árvores e colher pedras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 - falar sozinha ou pensar alto (como queiram ler).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 - sentir-me pobre se não tiver em casa pão e manteiga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 - não ver nada do que devo, ver tudo o resto em volta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 - ouvir o que não quero e guardar para escrever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;( o que falta dava para um bloco de notas replecto. eheheh)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;agora a parte pior, fazer alastrar a doença:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://aromasdomar.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mar revolto &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://adesenhar.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;adesenhar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://luadoslobos.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lua de lobos &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://emlinharecta.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em Linha Recta&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://maneldomontado.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Manel do Montado &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;haja uma alma caridosa que os informe. eu tenho de fugir que tenho trabalho a rodos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Bom dia a quem passar. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PS:desculpa &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://mulher50a60.weblog.com.pt/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lique&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, a &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://palavrejando.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MP&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; é que as vai pagar. Li depressa e...mal. :)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113956275332717758?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113956275332717758/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113956275332717758&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113956275332717758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113956275332717758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/o-que-faz-de-mim-et.html' title='o que faz de mim ET'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113950061242296588</id><published>2006-02-09T15:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:56:52.423Z</updated><title type='text'>intervalo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20cara002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20cara002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113950061242296588?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113950061242296588/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113950061242296588&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113950061242296588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113950061242296588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/intervalo.html' title='intervalo.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113950031905211784</id><published>2006-02-09T15:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:51:59.053Z</updated><title type='text'>se falou!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;falámos pela noite dentro. raiando a manhã.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Maurice%20Salmon.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Maurice%20Salmon.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Maurice Salmon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113950031905211784?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113950031905211784/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113950031905211784&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113950031905211784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113950031905211784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/se-falou.html' title='se falou!'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113949648113797522</id><published>2006-02-09T14:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-09T18:31:02.790Z</updated><title type='text'>é falta de gente ou  falta de sexo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;é, só pode ser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;arranjado o emprego, coisa de passagem e ainda antes de o iniciar, busquei um amigo de muitas recusas. disse-lhe sem pejo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- hoje sim, eu quero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;usei-o. acho eu. mas se queria tanto, que tinha a perder? depois se veria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/Lovers-Palinchak%20Mikhail.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/Lovers-Palinchak%20Mikhail.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Maurice Salmon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;antes do escritor tinha de ser eu a saber primeiro o que nele via, o que é que buscava que ainda não tivesse. da fama não era, posto que da minha nem gostara eu. dinheiro? também diziam que tinha... daí o trabalho para me garantir. sempre me bastara. não sou nada dada a ascenções e quedas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;fico no meu canto - é assim que sou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- o amigo não foi e o resto sei eu por demais, não ser. arrisco.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;telefonei. a moto chegou minutos depois.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- tinha de ser hoje?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- pois se estava à espera, para quê adiar?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/0%20a%20matieres_et_reflexions%20Jean-Bernard%20Augier.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/0%20a%20matieres_et_reflexions%20Jean-Bernard%20Augier.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jean-Bernard Augier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;corrente antiga, coisa de mar e de vento, a que nos ligou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- pode-se beber?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- só brandy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- serve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20a%20Bottle%20Michael%20Pemberton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20a%20Bottle%20Michael%20Pemberton.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Michael Pemberton&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- terá de servir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;riu. sentou-se no chão de pernas cruzadas e eu falei falei, enquanto ele esgotava a garrafa que o pai lá deixara.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- já é tarde, vou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- fale-me de si!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113949648113797522?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113949648113797522/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113949648113797522&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113949648113797522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113949648113797522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/falta-de-gente-ou-falta-de-sexo.html' title='é falta de gente ou  falta de sexo.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113947860526613804</id><published>2006-02-09T09:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-09T09:50:10.650Z</updated><title type='text'>tivesse ela</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;visto a cruz no caminho dos cabos telefónicos... tivesse ela ouvido o aviso orgânico que lhe refreava o impulso de atender com tanta alegria...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- estou sim... ah! bom dia! como vai?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sabe, pedi o seu número. não se importa, não? queria continuar a dar-me com uma Maria, a outra, a que saiu do grupo. posso? que é que diz?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- digo que talvez. se puder eu ligo-lhe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não demore, não?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- obrigada por se ter lembrado. até logo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- até logo, mesmo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!aTelephone%20migulski.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21aTelephone%20migulski.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; migulski&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tivesse ela ouvido o seu próprio instinto a dizer que não...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113947860526613804?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113947860526613804/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113947860526613804&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113947860526613804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113947860526613804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/tivesse-ela.html' title='tivesse ela'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113944386018431812</id><published>2006-02-09T00:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-09T00:14:38.440Z</updated><title type='text'>sei que não sou mais</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que um colo de rocha furada pelo mar. mas a vida segue.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Kirsten%20Nicholson.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Kirsten%20Nicholson.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Kirsten Nicholson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a ti meu amigo, adeus outra vez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/a_couple_in_love_by_sint%20by%20~sint.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20by%20Mathew%20Huron.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20by%20Mathew%20Huron.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;by Mathew Huron&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113944386018431812?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113944386018431812/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113944386018431812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113944386018431812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113944386018431812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/sei-que-no-sou-mais.html' title='sei que não sou mais'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113940740206014536</id><published>2006-02-08T13:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-08T19:17:39.676Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/!%20Cobra%20McCartney.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/%21%20Cobra%20McCartney.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; McCartney&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ergo-me quanto posso mas é pouco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;é sempre pouco ser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;limitação de deuses intangíveis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aonde amor, um outro amor encontro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que te devolva a ti, como eu te sei?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tentar amar de novo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;é voltar a matar-te? que sei eu? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sabes, ele diz que me ama e não respondo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não devolvo a palavra ou o sentir?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20a%20ta??a"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20a%20ta%3F%3Fa%20www.uwm.edu.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.uwm.edu/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#333333;"&gt;uwm.edu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;taça já transbordante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;terei ainda espaço nesta vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que sou forçada a ter, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;seja para quem for, depois de ti?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113940740206014536?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113940740206014536/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113940740206014536&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113940740206014536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113940740206014536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/mccartney-ergo-me-quanto-posso-mas.html' title=''/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113934256840800261</id><published>2006-02-07T19:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-07T20:32:03.863Z</updated><title type='text'>olho-me na água e só vejo o meu rosto</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20nude25%20Manolis%20Tsantakis.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Manolis Tsantakis&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;para onde foste amigo? estou confusa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;só amei uma vez e foi a ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;isto que sinto agora não é amor, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não é igual não tem a mesma cor &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;o mesmo brilho. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;do amor por ti lembro ainda o sabor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a ânsia no esperar-te. o ser sorriso toda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;deixaste-me? deixei-te? - não te encontro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;escondeste-te pressinto, sei que é isso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mais uma vez me libertas, para que escolha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas escolher é perder e a ti não quero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a ti não sei perder, seria uma sonambula&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fantasma que caminha, se ainda és tu ou apenas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a memória de ti, quem me ajuda a viver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/0%20sangue%20Ernst%20Haas.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/0%20sangue%20Ernst%20Haas.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ernst Haas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;explodiste em sangue e eu recebi toda essa energia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;acrescentei-a misturei-a à minha para sermos um só.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;depois disso, nada foi ou será igual em mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não. isto não é amor. diz-me tu: o que é?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113934256840800261?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113934256840800261/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113934256840800261&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113934256840800261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113934256840800261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/olho-me-na-gua-e-s-vejo-o-meu-rosto.html' title='olho-me na água e só vejo o meu rosto'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113926830271099834</id><published>2006-02-06T22:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-06T23:55:24.953Z</updated><title type='text'>tão límpida a praia varrida a marés.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20by%20Will%20King.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20by%20Will%20King.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Will King&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;faz-me bem estar só. sempre me fez bem. detesto o ruído. amo o som das ondas. um livro, a toalha e o tempo a passar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;devem ter já regressado os outros, mas nem telefonei. uma pausa deles também me alivia. vivemos tempo demais juntos. parecemos casados. o horror que eu tenho a isso de casar de onde me virá?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;que pergunta parva! então eu não sei? do ciúme, dos gritos violentos desde a infância, ouvidos a todas as horas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;case quem quiser!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Noah%20Grey%20homem.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Noah%20Grey%20homem.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Noah Grey homem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- você por aqui?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- não, a minha avó.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- a pergunta parva... foi boa a resposta. de faca na liga.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- eu não o imaginava já em portugal. pensei que fosse outro palerma qualquer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- de mal a pior...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;raio de gargalhada, nunca lhe resisto!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- desculpe, saiu-me a resposta errada.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- será?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e seria?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20kepeslap_1073Andriete%20Paris%20Marques.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20kepeslap_1073Andriete%20Paris%20Marques.3.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Andriete-Paris Marques&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tem um corpo bom. o melhor que faço é olhar o mar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113926830271099834?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113926830271099834/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113926830271099834&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113926830271099834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113926830271099834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/to-lmpida-praia-varrida-mars.html' title='tão límpida a praia varrida a marés.'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113926545911532664</id><published>2006-02-06T22:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-06T22:37:39.116Z</updated><title type='text'>meu filho, quero tanto que saibas voar!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20CZ??OWIEK.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20CZ%3F%3FOWIEK.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; CZŁOWIEK&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113926545911532664?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113926545911532664/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113926545911532664&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113926545911532664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113926545911532664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/meu-filho-quero-tanto-que-saibas-voar.html' title='meu filho, quero tanto que saibas voar!'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113926285636950415</id><published>2006-02-06T21:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-06T22:14:49.910Z</updated><title type='text'>- sabes que ele anda com a outra de Paris?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- ah, é? e eu a ver com isso? nem sequer sou polícia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- podias não saber... como andam sempre juntos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;não respondi mais nada. que cansaço de gente! tão preocupadinhos com a vida dos outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jantei no &lt;em&gt;quartier latin&lt;/em&gt; com o bilhete de regresso na mala. nada mais me importava a não ser regressar. eles iam ficar uma semana ainda. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.geocities.jp/sjwatabe/t_DSC03156.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;geocities.jp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- adeus. vemo-nos em lisboa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- não vá ainda. há cá tão bom cinema!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- veja-o e conte-me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- nem acredito no que estou a ouvir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;ria de novo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- aí está uma coisa que me vai tirar o sono. ciao.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 395px; HEIGHT: 308px" height="328" src="http://www.francetourism.com/pics/paris-night.jpg" width="504" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;francetourism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;paris vista de cima é um encanto, quando se tem aonde chegar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;adeus &lt;em&gt;homem do mar&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pensava eu... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113926285636950415?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113926285636950415/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113926285636950415&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113926285636950415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113926285636950415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/sabes-que-ele-anda-com-outra-de-paris.html' title='- sabes que ele anda com a outra de Paris?'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19366317.post-113925534500272197</id><published>2006-02-06T18:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-06T21:07:14.403Z</updated><title type='text'>- em Varsóvia explico-lhe tudo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;brincadeira que durou cerca de vinte dias. que podia ter a explicar-me o escritor? mas era assim a nossa relação. fazíamos "&lt;em&gt;cadáveres esquisitos&lt;/em&gt;" enquanto os outros fingiam entender. tornou-se divertido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a guia não nos deixava a sós um segundo que fosse. nem passeio de liceu teria maior guarda. soube depois que também o casamento dela dependia do sucesso daquela missão.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;todos queriam casar, excepto eu. até o grupo me queria ver casada e arranjava potenciais maridos, cada um pior que outro, verdade se diga. depois vinha o desapontameto, a quase raiva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20Alfred%20Niederhauser,.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20Alfred%20Niederhauser%2C.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Niederhauser &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;vi em Varsóvia a história do crime sobre judeus e os polacos. mais até do que queria. também vi parques com concertos ao ar livre e muita frequência. teria lá ficado se pudesse.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/6328Dan%20McCormack.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/6328Dan%20McCormack.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;McCormack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pedias-me na noite a caminho do hotel:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- vai, eu trato de tudo cá e depois voltas. trazes o teu menino. ganho uma mulher única e um filho e fazemos teatro os dois. no mesmo grupo. o que há de melhor?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;querido Igor! como era belo e são e inocente! não podia Igor. não foi por mal, não foi. não voltei senão pela família. nada mais me prendia nesta terra. eu nasci nómada. teria ido sim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não me esqueço de ti. escreveste ainda durante um ano inteiro, antes de desistir.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;terei eu feito bem? que importa agora?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hei-de lembra-te sempre. tu sabias dar flores.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/1600/1%20-mdby%20ciprian%20cojoc.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3524/1915/400/1%20-mdby%20ciprian%20cojoc.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; ciprian cojoc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas éramos árvores quase paralelas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Existe apenas um único problema filosófico realmente sério: o suic?dio. Julgar se a vida vale ou n?o a pena ser vivida significa responder à quest?o fundamental da filosofia. 

Albert Camus&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19366317-113925534500272197?l=vidapapel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/feeds/113925534500272197/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19366317&amp;postID=113925534500272197&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113925534500272197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19366317/posts/default/113925534500272197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidapapel.blogspot.com/2006/02/em-varsvia-explico-lhe-tudo.html' title='&lt;i&gt;- em Varsóvia explico-lhe tudo.&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>paper life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07116435603959345033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/944/1224/1600/889213/madalena-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
