<?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-3549208</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:34:42.432-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Myself</title><subtitle type='html'>Para aqueles que n?o me conhecem, para aqueles que conhecem e acham que n?o sabem de nada e para mim, que muitas vezes me encaixo na segunda opï¿½?o.
</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>424</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-106057732691698348</id><published>2003-08-11T01:48:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-08-11T01:48:58.196-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Não consigo republicar os arquivos, que legal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-106057732691698348?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057732691698348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057732691698348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106057732691698348' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-106057665781564236</id><published>2003-08-11T01:37:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2003-08-11T01:37:37.706-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://http://www.fernandagoulart.blogger.com.br/index.html"&gt;Meu atual Blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-106057665781564236?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057665781564236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057665781564236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106057665781564236' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-106057662709783365</id><published>2003-08-11T01:37:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-08-11T01:37:06.983-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quero descobrir se meus arquivos ainda vivem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-106057662709783365?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057662709783365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057662709783365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106057662709783365' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-106057660813077817</id><published>2003-08-11T01:36:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-08-11T01:36:48.043-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>teste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-106057660813077817?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057660813077817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/106057660813077817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106057660813077817' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-89495957</id><published>2003-02-21T11:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-02-21T11:00:39.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu quero manter esse Blog principalmente pelos arquivos, mas parece que há um problema quando tento abri-lo com o Explorer, apesar de no Mozilla abrir. &lt;br /&gt;Aparentemente voltou a funcionar. Talvez ele estivesse com problemas por eu não estar postando nele. &lt;br /&gt;De qualquer modo, esse não é mais meu endereço. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-89495957?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/89495957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/89495957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_02_01_archive.html#89495957' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-88542763</id><published>2003-02-04T16:35:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-02-04T16:44:18.620-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://nandda.cjb.net/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Endere&amp;ccedil;o novo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, espero.&lt;br /&gt;Meu &lt;a href="http://brnt.weblogger.terra.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;genro&lt;/a&gt; me deu um layout ^^&lt;br /&gt;Bem nerd, por sinal, mas somos todos nerds mesmo. hehehe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-88542763?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/88542763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/88542763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_02_01_archive.html#88542763' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-88474796</id><published>2003-02-03T13:18:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-02-03T13:40:03.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N�o vou comentar os coment�rios. E isso nem foi um pleonasmo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero um layout novo. Aceito doa��es. &lt;br /&gt;Um layout mais claro e tal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://shaka.blogspot.com/"target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; falou que me ajudaria, mas at� agora n�o achei uma imagem decente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem, estive ausente aqui, mas estava postando no &lt;a href="http://www.mndfck.ath.cx/"target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mndfck&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; e no &lt;a href="http://www.mascara.blogger.com.br/"target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;M�scara&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, acho que poucos notaram. :P Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nessa aus�ncia apenas *virtual* e mesmo assim, s� do myself (pq eu me mantive viva e saindo e conversando e fazendo algumas coisitas interessantes), eu resolvi alguns problemas e conheci pessoas novas - meus vizinhos. Sim, isso � *trevas*, mas eu n�o conhecia ningu�m aqui e eles at� que s�o maneiros. &lt;br /&gt;Ah, e tem churrasco s�bado na casa do meu &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/"target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;namorado&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ou alvo-de-macumbas. Hehehe. Eu ri muito com isso. ^^&lt;br /&gt;Well, por enquanto � isso. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: esse imood tem cada palavra. ShIAHSUAshuaSAhsuiHASUHAs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-88474796?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/88474796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/88474796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_02_01_archive.html#88474796' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-88474657</id><published>2003-02-03T13:15:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-02-03T13:15:55.610-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;:: mandando sinais de fuma&amp;ccedil;a ::&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-88474657?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/88474657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/88474657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_02_01_archive.html#88474657' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87863443</id><published>2003-01-22T20:19:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-23T01:10:56.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parece que o pior dia da minha vida at&amp;eacute; agora aconteceu.&lt;br /&gt;H&amp;aacute; alguns minutos. Horas.  Estou perdendo a no&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o do tempo j&amp;aacute;. Estou chorando desde das 18hs. Tudo se transformou num imenso mar. Mar de l&amp;aacute;grimas. Dor de cabe&amp;ccedil;a provocada por muitos motivos.. Medo.&lt;br /&gt;E eu apenas n&amp;atilde;o queria me sentir t&amp;atilde;o s&amp;oacute;. S&amp;oacute; por hoje.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N&amp;atilde;o tenho mais o que escrever aqui. E por hora, n&amp;atilde;o me sinto.. t&amp;atilde;o.. p&amp;uacute;blica. &amp;Eacute; isso.... e tenho que arranjar um rumo para minha vida. � urgente. &lt;br /&gt;Foi bom conhecer algumas pessoas por aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Obrigada a todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fim. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87863443?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87863443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87863443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87863443' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87848242</id><published>2003-01-22T15:02:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-22T15:02:44.186-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje eu s&amp;oacute; precisava de um beijo roubado, um beijo afoito, um quase n&amp;atilde;o beijo. seu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87848242?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87848242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87848242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87848242' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87813291</id><published>2003-01-21T23:13:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-21T23:18:38.010-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Di&amp;aacute;logos curtos no icq, no mIRC,  no telefone, em casa, nas festas ...  e-mails raros ... di&amp;aacute;logos? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Op&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es para a minha falta de vontade de falar com as pessoas de modo geral:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;( ) Falta de assunto&lt;br /&gt;( ) T&amp;eacute;dio profundo&lt;br /&gt;( ) Sou antip&amp;aacute;tica mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;( ) Falta do que fazer que provoca falta de assunto.&lt;br /&gt;( ) Falta de vontade, pura e simples.&lt;br /&gt;( ) As pessoas em quest&amp;atilde;o s&amp;atilde;o chatas&lt;br /&gt;( ) N&amp;atilde;o h&amp;aacute; com quem falar. N&amp;atilde;o h&amp;aacute; pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt; E talvez seja um pouco de todas as alternativas  ... &amp;agrave;s vezes... &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu que sempre fiquei invis&amp;iacute;vel no ICQ... agora parece que n&amp;atilde;o faz diferen&amp;ccedil;a mesmo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87813291?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87813291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87813291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87813291' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87754849</id><published>2003-01-20T22:38:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-21T12:12:01.560-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu ia escrever sobre o tempo do col&amp;eacute;gio.... sobre a falta que fazem alguns amigos....&lt;br /&gt;Do tempo que tinha "mais" amigos e fica horas ao telefone. Hoje, n&amp;atilde;o tenho mais paci&amp;ecirc;ncia para ficar muito tempo ao telefone e n&amp;atilde;o tenho muita vontade de telefonar... Acho que nem tenho muitas pessoas para exercitar meus "dotes" de operadora de telemarketing, como dizia Tio Francisco ��    &lt;br /&gt;Percebo que estou meio entediada ap&amp;oacute;s uma tentativa frustrada de comprar o presente &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;dele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; no shopping (A loja em quest&amp;atilde;o estava fechada. Hoje &amp;eacute; feriado aqui no RJ e nem todas as lojas abriram e eu n&amp;atilde;o pensei nessa possibilidade antes. ��x ), est&amp;aacute; chovendo .... ent&amp;atilde;o, surgem esses assuntos ......... essas baboseiras.. e esse Blog vira um blog mulherzinha demais. Vou assistir TV ou falar no Irc, vamos ver o que me anima mais. Humpf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ap&amp;oacute;s o momento mulherzinha no Blog, &lt;a href="http://otiocxib.blogspot.com/"target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; usando um nick ador&amp;aacute;vel ("Bixcoito`Entrando`Em`Depressaum"), falou que vai tentar me animar. ��&lt;br /&gt;T&amp;ocirc; bem ou n&amp;atilde;o t&amp;ocirc;?&lt;/I&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87754849?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87754849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87754849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87754849' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87752849</id><published>2003-01-20T21:52:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-20T21:52:38.366-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momento informa&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o in&amp;uacute;til:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/cafelatino/quizzes/Qual%20personagem%20de%20Almodovar%20eh%20voce%3F/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/C/cafelatino/1041357537_testemanuela.jpg" border="0" alt="Voc%EA%20%E9%20MANUELA"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;Qual personagem de Almodovar eh voce?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87752849?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87752849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87752849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87752849' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87667260</id><published>2003-01-19T03:11:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-19T03:11:42.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... mordi-o longa e ansiosamente, os l�bios, a carne nua, o rosto quando ele me beijou o pesco�o. Quando acordamos, o suor escorria  pelo rosto, enquanto outros l�quidos lambuzavam os corpos  e dentro de mim nascia uma necessidade: entregar-me mais uma vez �s tuas m�os, estilha�ar-me em ti ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87667260?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87667260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87667260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87667260' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87571359</id><published>2003-01-17T02:01:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-17T02:01:28.723-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas que me cercam parecem estranhas, introspectivas demais, ou mais do que eu j� tinha notado... ou ser� que eu que cismei com isso? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87571359?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87571359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87571359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87571359' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87456447</id><published>2003-01-15T02:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-17T02:06:15.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu sei quando eu n�o estou bem quando vou procurar o biscoito Passatempo que a minha m�e compra pra mim e n�o achando, fico com raiva. � isso: eu quase chorei por um pacote de passatempo. Vou procurar um Bono. &lt;br /&gt;Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pergunta que n�o quer calar: Pq eu e T� n�o conseguimos nos falar pela internet sem colocar muuuuuuuuiiiiiiiitttttttttaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssss letrinhasssss assim????????? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duas pervas. ASHAuhsiaSHUIashuiAHSUIAhsuiaSHAs :********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amigas reaparecendo. Cara, estava com saudades de voc�s. :~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: A explica��o pro nick &lt;br /&gt;(melocoton_) melocoton eh melancia em espanhol &lt;br /&gt;(melocoton_) ou pode ser aquele bixo roxo e feioso da eliana... &lt;br /&gt;(Helena_de_Troia) argh (melocoton_ ) isso faz tanto tempo que acho que eu ainda era crian�a &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(T� tamb�m viu os Reis Magos) &lt;br /&gt;aHSIAushaHUISUIAhshaUIShasuiaHSHAuishASHAuisuh &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87456447?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87456447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87456447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87456447' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87374803</id><published>2003-01-13T20:37:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-13T20:38:04.606-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras alheias:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"There were always in me, two women at least,&lt;br /&gt;one woman desperate and bewildered,&lt;br /&gt;who felt she was drowning and another who&lt;br /&gt;would leap into a scene, as upon a stage,&lt;br /&gt;conceal her true emotions because they&lt;br /&gt;were weaknesses, helplessness, despair,&lt;br /&gt;and present to the world only a smile,&lt;br /&gt;an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest. "&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.anaisnin.com/home.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ana&amp;iuml;s Nin&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87374803?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87374803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87374803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87374803' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87368080</id><published>2003-01-13T18:14:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-13T18:22:46.590-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu resolvo ir ao Downtown assistir o Senhor dos An&amp;eacute;is (de novo \o/ T&amp;aacute;, deveras nerd ^^  ), o tempo muda. &lt;br /&gt;Droga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T&amp;aacute;, quem n&amp;atilde;o conhece o shopping vai me chamar de fresca, bem, h&amp;aacute; pracinhas l&amp;aacute;, &amp;eacute; todo aberto, &amp;eacute; bom passear, namorar l&amp;aacute;, e com tudo molhado ou ventinho frio, n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; t&amp;atilde;o agrad&amp;aacute;vel.&lt;br /&gt;%�#$$%@#$@#$!@#$!!@#&lt;br /&gt;Murphy, putz. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS1: Ana Luiza voltou a falar comigo, que emo&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o :~~~~~ (n&amp;atilde;o estou sendo ir&amp;ocirc;nica, eu amo essa man&amp;eacute;zona orgulhosa e desnaturada)&lt;br /&gt;PS2: Estou de f&amp;eacute;rias, por isso ia ao cinema durante a semana sim, e da&amp;iacute;? :p&lt;br /&gt;PS3: &lt;a href="http://caracolis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, d&amp;ecirc; um sinal de vida PELAMORDEUS. :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87368080?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87368080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87368080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87368080' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87267937</id><published>2003-01-11T14:58:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-11T14:59:39.963-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem, estou sem tempo para postar. &lt;br /&gt;(mentira)&lt;br /&gt;Estou com tempo de &lt;b&gt;sobra&lt;/b&gt; pra postar, mas sem o qu&amp;ecirc; postarrrrrrrrr \o/&lt;br /&gt;Estou animada.animada.animada.&lt;br /&gt;E com calor. &lt;br /&gt;E preocupada com minha miga, &lt;a href="http://caracolis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Becca&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.. Ca&amp;iacute;do. :/&lt;br /&gt;Mas tudo se resolve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou inexplicavelmente feliz, querido di&amp;aacute;rio (hohohohoho)&lt;br /&gt;Acho que vou dar uma voltinha na praia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;ps: preciso dan&amp;ccedil;arrr \o/ &lt;br /&gt;Algu&amp;eacute;m j&amp;aacute; sabe se j&amp;aacute; temos Loud??!?!?!?! &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu &lt;b&gt;preciso&lt;/b&gt; ir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mascara.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Bom basta&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87267937?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87267937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87267937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87267937' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87026940</id><published>2003-01-06T20:27:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-06T20:27:42.016-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;Eacute; fugidia a vis&amp;atilde;o do seu corpo antes de se perder no meu, vivo o reflexo m&amp;oacute;vel da minha boca. Olhares cravados. Pr&amp;oacute;ximos os ru&amp;iacute;dos da sua m&amp;atilde;o que afasta o pano que me cobre, o beijo roubado, as costas nuas. Tudo ainda marcado em minha pele e perdido nas lembran&amp;ccedil;as... por hora, distantes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87026940?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87026940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87026940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87026940' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-87021744</id><published>2003-01-06T18:34:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-06T18:34:41.950-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Debrucei arquejante na janela com o mar embaixo todo encrespado, as ondas atiravam-se furiosas contra as rochas.  Fechei os olhos e a onda me cobriu inteira. Agarrei uma rocha e subi pela encosta, perseguida pelo ca&amp;ccedil;ador que eu n&amp;atilde;o podia ver, mas que estava me vendo. As pedras marcavam minhas m&amp;atilde;os, meus joelhos. N&amp;atilde;o adiantava fugir, ele vnha logo atr&amp;aacute;s, unisse com a ponta do dedo essas gotas de sangue que marcavam minha passagem e teria meu rastro. Ent&amp;atilde;o, se aproxima e cola sua boca no meu ouvido e diz: Segura a sua chave. Fechei a m&amp;atilde;o cheia d�&amp;aacute;gua e acordei. Estava com o corpo molhado. Suor. Os olhos marejados. L&amp;aacute;grimas. Sua imagem passa ligeira como uma sombra. Mergulha naquelas &amp;aacute;guas. Ou&amp;ccedil;o ainda o ruido vigoroso das minhas bra&amp;ccedil;adas lutando contra a correnteza. Aparece o sol ao longe e com ele a poeira suspensa no ar. A voz h&amp;aacute; pouco fechada vai saindo das cascas, fica mais quentes. Quando decido me recuperar parece surgir uma parede invis&amp;iacute;vel, bato com os punhos nesse vidro. Ela me parte.  O que significava isso tudo?  Talvez tenha virado uma espectadora do corpo perdido. Talvez seja medo. De qu&amp;ecirc;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-87021744?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87021744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/87021744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87021744' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86909489</id><published>2003-01-04T03:32:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-04T03:34:01.313-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria escrever um conto ou um romance, mas desconfio que n&amp;atilde;o escreverei mais. Mas &amp;eacute; verdade que outras vezes desconfiei e no entanto escrevi. O que hei de escrever? Estou me sentindo feia, comecei a sentir isso cedo. N&amp;atilde;o, n&amp;atilde;o estou deprimida ou algo do g&amp;ecirc;nero e por isso estou me sentindo assim. S&amp;oacute; sinto, e ponto. &amp;Eacute; como se eu tivesse uma moeda e n&amp;atilde;o soubesse em que mercado ela vale. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt; O amor est&amp;aacute;, est&amp;aacute; sempre. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86909489?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86909489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86909489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#86909489' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86895238</id><published>2003-01-03T20:38:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-01-03T20:38:54.420-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fomos a Niter&amp;oacute;i receber essa &lt;a href="http://www.mrgn.tk/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mo&amp;ccedil;a&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, que passou 1 ano na Holanda. Foi muito bom encontr&amp;aacute;-&lt;a href="http://www.mrgn.tk/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;la&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, ainda temos muito a conversar ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou com uma senhora dor de cabe&amp;ccedil;a, por isso: au revoir &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86895238?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86895238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86895238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#86895238' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86746388</id><published>2002-12-31T11:25:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-31T12:08:45.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas que entram no meu Blog devem achar que sou muito rom&amp;acirc;ntica e que escrevo bem, na medida do poss&amp;iacute;vel. Nem sempre foi assim. Sempre gostei de escrever, mas sempre escrevi coisas tristes, lamentos mesmo. E esse ano tudo parece diferente. Tudo mudou por causa &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;dele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, que me fez acreditar que &amp;eacute; poss&amp;iacute;vel duas pessoas, mesmo bem diferentes em alguns aspectos, se darem bem, vencerem barreiras, saber o momento de fazer concess&amp;otilde;es, tudo para continuarem juntas. &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Voc&amp;ecirc;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; me fez acreditar no amor e me faz acreditar todos os dias que pode ser para sempre, e &amp;eacute; por isso que eu &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;te&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; amo, mais do que j&amp;aacute; sonhei amar algu&amp;eacute;m. Obrigada por ter surgido na minha vida e ser &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;uacute;nico&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nos encaramos com o riso secreto que ningu�m entende, testemunhas um do outro, � apenas isso, me via nele como num espelho. Quando nos olh�vamos eu via meu reflexo nos seus olhos...Como eu ficava mais bonita naqueles olhos... nos seus olhos... &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86746388?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86746388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86746388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86746388' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86721127</id><published>2002-12-30T23:54:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T23:54:22.910-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N�o escrever � quase inalcan��vel, muito mais ambicioso. &lt;br /&gt;Acho que em vida, observo muito, tenho o senso do rid�culo, do bom humor e tomo partido tentando ser diplom�tica. Escrevendo, tenho observa��es extremamente passivas, interiores, que se escrevem enquanto s�o sentidas, quase sem pensar de verdade. N�o sei.  As palavras est�o inacabadas... Voam desajeitadamente tentando um pequeno v�o e caem sem gra�a no ch�o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86721127?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86721127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86721127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86721127' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86720770</id><published>2002-12-30T23:44:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T23:44:04.833-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que palavra secreta eu poderia falar para silenciar o meu moinho interior?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86720770?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86720770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86720770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86720770' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86720161</id><published>2002-12-30T23:24:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T23:24:49.516-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem entender o porqu&amp;ecirc;, entendia; e a sensa&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o que calava dentro era de contato, de exist&amp;ecirc;ncia, de olhar e ser olhada.  Um pensamento t&amp;atilde;o intenso que a possibilidade de  ser quebrado parecia me tirar as for&amp;ccedil;as. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou pensando demais agora, com vontade de escrever, mas sem saber o qu&amp;ecirc;. Talvez pensar profundamente seja n&amp;atilde;o ter sequer um pensamento a trazer &amp;agrave; superf&amp;iacute;cie. As palavras acabam todas guardadas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sil&amp;ecirc;ncio acaba tomando a casa. Ser&amp;aacute; que a gente n&amp;atilde;o tem mais for&amp;ccedil;a para suportar a paz? Tudo parece terra dos outros..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Talvez n&amp;atilde;o esteja acostumada a tranquilidade.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86720161?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86720161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86720161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86720161' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86719496</id><published>2002-12-30T23:05:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T23:05:55.836-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A saudade &amp;eacute; como uma rosa p&amp;aacute;lida ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86719496?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86719496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86719496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86719496' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86650296</id><published>2002-12-29T04:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-29T04:26:45.936-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem ....  HOJE &amp;Eacute; MEU ANIVERS&amp;Aacute;RIO!!!!!!!!!!!!! \o/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pirmeiras pessoas a me darem os Parab&amp;eacute;ns: &lt;a href="http://www.mascara.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Minha maninhaaaaaaa&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (Ellen, Ray - CAD&amp;Ecirc; VOC&amp;Ecirc;S? :/ ), &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;meu namorado&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://giow.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GiOw&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; kawaii ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;\o/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como sou nova (��), falarei : estou fazendo 21 anos :D&lt;br /&gt;Amanh&amp;atilde; espero estar ocupada durante o dia todo ... ent&amp;atilde;o... at&amp;eacute;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;obs: E dia 30 &amp;eacute; niver da minha amiga &lt;a href="http://caracolis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Becca&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86650296?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86650296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86650296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86650296' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86622506</id><published>2002-12-28T10:09:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-28T10:09:41.703-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pensei em ser os outros e assim entender o que eu n�o era. &lt;br /&gt;Mas isso � f�cil.&lt;br /&gt;Pior � ser os outros dos outros: e os outros dos outros sou eu..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86622506?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86622506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86622506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86622506' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86587042</id><published>2002-12-27T12:07:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-27T12:18:02.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imitando tantos outros blogs umbiguistas , como o meu, vou escrever sobre o que aconteceu esse ano comigo. &lt;br /&gt;O ano come�ou uma droga. AULAS. Sim, tivemos greve ano passado, sendo assim, passei o m�s de janeiro tendo aulas na minha linda &lt;a href="http://www.ufrj.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;faculdade&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, praticamente fiz 3 per�odos em 1 ano. Sem f�rias. :)&lt;br /&gt;Esse m�s de Janeiro s�o as minhas f�rias acumuladas desde do terceiro ano do segundo grau. Para quem n�o sabe , a maioria, j� que eu n�o falo sobre isso, muito menos fico escrevendo aqui, eu fiz vestibular duas vezes, e n�o, eu n�o fiquei reprovada no primeiro, eu troquei de curso, eu ia fazer medicina ��  (e desisti. Brigas e brigas familiares na ocasi�o, mas eu resolvi largar pq eu achei muito chato.. bem, nadav� estar falando sobre isso, o assunto � o ano de 2002).  Ent�o, eu n�o tive 2 anos de f�rias por causa do vestibular e no ano de 2002 por causa da faculdade, portanto, essas f�rias ser�o ma-ra-vi-lho-sas.  Passou janeiro, fevereiro (n�o me lembro aonde passei o Carnaval. Tipo, eu n�o gosto muito de Carnaval, capaz de ter passado em Friburgo lendo as Brumas de Avalon e indo a umas boates horrorosas que tem por l�, �, acho que foi isso mesmo.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em mar�o, conheci &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; que hoje � uma das pessoas mais importantes para mim ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abril n�o aconteceu nada absurdo, devo ter comido chocolate s�.&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhhhh, em 2002 comecei a estudar franc�s e acabei de estudar ingl�s. Larguei meu est�gio tamb�m, no meio do ano. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De um modo geral, a vida correu bem esse ano, e quando problemas surgiam, tinha &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://www.wickedart.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; comigo, al�m de &lt;a href="http://caracolis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Becca&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, Tati, Iara e uma pessoa nova, a &lt;a href="http://www.fragmentos.blogspace.net/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fabi&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;As pessoas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em 2002 conheci muita gente legal. &lt;a href="http://www.wickedart.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, meu cunhado, e um dos meus melhores amigos. Conheci o povo de Nikity city por causa &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;dele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: HellCat, uma pessoa que eu a-do-ro, Sorriso, &lt;a href="http://www.scald.org/blog/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Scald&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.ivisualdesign.com/wart/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Coisa&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://theplayground.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dona Tati&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, e agora no finalzinho do ano &lt;a href="http://www.mrgn.tk/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Helena&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, entre outras pessoas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conheci as meninas do sailormoon: &lt;a href="http://www.harukaemichiru.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ana-sama&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://babyluli.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Lu&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.giow.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GiOw&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://harukatenoh.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fabi&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Nos veremos em fevereiro! ^^&lt;br /&gt;E o &lt;a href="http://www.endymion.weblogger.terra.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Luiz&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vi &lt;a href="http://avecvoleuse.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;essa mo�a&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; aqui no RJ, ela j� � quase carioca. Ser� que nos vemos no final do ano? :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coincid�ncias aconteceram: conheci &lt;a href="http://usuarios.chicayban.com.br/~diogo/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; num chat do Irc e logo descobri que j� tinha deixado coment�rio no Blog dele. Mais tarde, nos conhecemos pessoalmente e descobrimos que simplesmente ele conhecia &lt;a href="http://www.scald.org/blog/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Scald&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.ivisualdesign.com/wart/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Coisa&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;,  &lt;a href="http://www.mrgn.tk/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Helena&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, entre outras pessoas. Niter�i tem dessas coisas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiquei ainda mais pr�xima &lt;a href="http://www.mascara.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;delas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; - Ellen, que j� conhe�o h� 2 anos, Rayanna e Ingrid, que conheci esse ano. &lt;a href="http://www.mascara.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Meninas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; maravilhosas. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o ano fecha bem. Reencontrei uma amiga do 1o grau, a &lt;a href="http://www.fernandacouto.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fernanda&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Onde onde? No mundo dos Blogs - onde conheci tantas outras pessoas legais, como  &lt;a href="http://macabeah.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ana&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...  a &lt;a href="http://www.fragmentos.blogspace.net/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fabi&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E logo logo, viro o ano com &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;voc�&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, que tornou cada momento em 2002 mais especial. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86587042?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86587042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86587042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86587042' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86548162</id><published>2002-12-26T12:05:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-28T10:09:27.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N�o sei como, mas esse POST SUMIU. o.0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E n�o vou escrev�-lo novamente. ��&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86548162?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86548162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86548162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86548162' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86384928</id><published>2002-12-22T03:12:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-22T03:12:17.363-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas, n&amp;atilde;o escreverei antes do Natal de novo, por isso deixo a todos meu desejo de que tenham um feliz Natal e o meu carinho.&lt;br /&gt;Infelizmente n&amp;atilde;o tive como passar em todos os Blogs que est&amp;atilde;o linkados..&lt;br /&gt;Bem, at&amp;eacute; depois da Ceia ;)&lt;br /&gt;Beijos&lt;br /&gt;Fernanda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86384928?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86384928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86384928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86384928' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86287206</id><published>2002-12-19T19:27:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-19T21:23:15.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N�o deveria ter visto.&lt;br /&gt;Mas tendo visto o que os olhos, ao verem, diminuem, arriscara-se a ser um ela-mesma para a qual n�o estava preparada. Nunca se lembrava de organizar sua alma em linguagem. Talvez medo de, ao falar, ela mesma n�o se reconhecer. Se pensava agora em falar, era que n�o sabia para onde ia, nem sabia o que ia lhe acontecer, e isso j� colocava seu cora��o em liberdade.  Sentia que  na despedida poderia, talvez, sem perigo, ser boa e dizer a palavra a mais - que palavra? Eles n�o sabiam propriamente, e olhavam-se sorrindo. Mudos. Era um instante que se pedia para ser vivo. Ningu�m podia adivinhar o que pensava, era preciso senti-la. A mudez era sua �ltima palavra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Momentos que n�o devem ser narrados, acontecem no ar que desperta nosso rosto e nos d� energia. E ent�o, por um segundo, esses momentos s�o o que conta. Se em um instante se nasce, e se morre em um instante, &lt;b&gt;um instante � bastante para a vida inteira&lt;/b&gt;.  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86287206?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86287206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86287206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86287206' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86239237</id><published>2002-12-18T20:25:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-18T20:30:28.103-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bateu uma raiva. Sim, uma raiva profunda. Talvez algo que nunca tivesse sentido de verdade, ou melhor, nunca me deixei sentir de verdade. Eu precisava sentir aquilo.  Eu que sempre fui paciente e aprendi a perdoar e a me resignar e a amar, senti raiva.  Eu precisava tocar a raiva de que era feito meu perd&amp;atilde;o. Toc&amp;aacute;-la para ent&amp;atilde;o, conseguir perdoar... independe da minha vontade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Tudo parecia dif&amp;iacute;cil, fora de hora, fora de m&amp;atilde;o, fora de interesse. Se n&amp;atilde;o tomar cuidado, fico insens&amp;iacute;vel.&lt;br /&gt; Bem, n&amp;atilde;o me incomodaria agora ficar assim.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86239237?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86239237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86239237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86239237' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86192732</id><published>2002-12-17T22:43:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-17T22:43:19.760-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senta-se e controla os m&amp;uacute;sculos do pesco&amp;ccedil;o. A vista escurece, o sorriso congela.  Ouve o grito "sorria!", a claridade a cega. Pronto, ele diz. E o rosto, os ombros e a cintura caem. Parecia mais livre depois de fotografada.  Cada flash, mais uma encena&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o de si.  O retrato talvez fosse uma superf&amp;iacute;cie inating&amp;iacute;vel - sonho sufocante, um destino.  A futilidade dos enfeites oculta sua figura. Suas palavras s&amp;atilde;o muralhas que envolvem a cidade , e de fora, assistimos  um espet&amp;aacute;culo: a cidade da mo&amp;ccedil;a arde sozinha; dentro dela n&amp;atilde;o h&amp;aacute; ningu&amp;eacute;m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86192732?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86192732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86192732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86192732' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-86106658</id><published>2002-12-16T10:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-16T11:00:21.040-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N&amp;atilde;o h&amp;aacute; personagens, h&amp;aacute; maneiras de inventar. N&amp;atilde;o delato, n&amp;atilde;o conto nem desenho - crio um t&amp;uacute;nel onde de repente recoloco o objeto perseguido em minha ess&amp;ecirc;ncia inesperada.  Situando apenas a minha emo&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o, n&amp;atilde;o crio ou defino - anoto. &lt;br /&gt;Talvez n&amp;atilde;o sejam os acontecimentos que fa&amp;ccedil;am os di&amp;aacute;rios, mas a falta deles.  N&amp;atilde;o s&amp;atilde;o os fatos, mas as rea&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es que interessam. &lt;br /&gt;N&amp;atilde;o sou uma escritora, certamente. Talvez seja uma atmosfera - h&amp;aacute; um pouco de tudo em mim. Uma viv&amp;ecirc;ncia ficcionada?  H&amp;aacute; dias que me sinto uma personagem e n&amp;atilde;o eu mesma. Sensa&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o passageira. Esse &amp;eacute; um vazio f&amp;eacute;rtil, que frutifica.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-86106658?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86106658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/86106658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#86106658' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85872640</id><published>2002-12-12T01:07:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-12T01:12:25.380-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;Agrave;s vezes quero lhe dizer tanta coisa e n&amp;atilde;o consigo. &amp;Agrave;s vezes quero que voc&amp;ecirc; diga tudo, sem eu ter que perguntar nada. &amp;Agrave;s vezes tenho vontade de sair gritando e falar para todos quem voc&amp;ecirc; &amp;eacute; para mim. &amp;Agrave;s vezes eu quero ficar quieta,  n&amp;atilde;o dizer uma palavra, mas ter certeza que voc&amp;ecirc; est&amp;aacute; entendendo. &amp;Agrave;s vezes eu preciso de palavras para ter certezas e n&amp;atilde;o noto as atitudes. &amp;Agrave;s vezes eu penso ser imposs&amp;iacute;vel ficar mais feliz do que j&amp;aacute; estou, por&amp;eacute;m, voc&amp;ecirc; chega e rouba mais sorrisos. &amp;Agrave;s vezes eu queria ter coragem de falar isso tudo e outras vezes, queria que voc&amp;ecirc; j&amp;aacute; soubesse disso e de tantas outras coisas. Tudo isso por que n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; &amp;agrave;s vezes que eu &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;te&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; amo, &amp;eacute; sempre. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85872640?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85872640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85872640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85872640' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85856763</id><published>2002-12-11T19:19:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-11T19:19:21.633-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voltando para casa hoje tudo parou. &lt;br /&gt;Os carros. Os rel&amp;oacute;gios. Os &amp;ocirc;nibus. Eu estava s&amp;oacute; comigo mesma.  &lt;br /&gt;As pessoas ficaram transparentes e mudas, s&amp;oacute; meu cora&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o batia. &lt;br /&gt;Percebi o qu&amp;atilde;o eu era insignificante para o mundo. Era isso, eu era uma fotografia colorida fora de foco. E s&amp;oacute;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sinto como se estivesse transbordando. Tenho que ser cuidadosa para n&amp;atilde;o me afogar em mim. Quanta Fernanda sou capaz de engolir sem perder o f&amp;ocirc;lego?&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85856763?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85856763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85856763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85856763' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85854850</id><published>2002-12-11T18:38:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-11T19:07:19.940-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escrever tem sido vital para mim e parar talvez seja arriscar-me ao mar alto de mim mesma, sem bote ou b&amp;oacute;ia. Ou, talvez, seja uma esp&amp;eacute;cie de liberta&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o. No entanto, parece muito arriscado andar &amp;agrave; beira do sil&amp;ecirc;ncio ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Como os costados de um navio, a &amp;aacute;gua bate, volta, bate, volta ...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85854850?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85854850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85854850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85854850' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85841390</id><published>2002-12-11T13:39:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-11T13:49:06.273-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu gosto muito de escrever, muitas vezes surgem frases, hist&amp;oacute;rias, poemas quando estou na minha rotinha, atarefada, e tenho o costume de levar sempre comigo meu di&amp;aacute;rio. Com isso, surgem palavras soltas, frases perdidas nesse Blog... Enfim, o que eu queria dizer &amp;eacute; que hoje, eu n&amp;atilde;o s&amp;oacute; escrevi, como podem ver nos posts anteriores, como tamb&amp;eacute;m ganhei um poema. Obrigada, &lt;a href="http://neodo.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mo&amp;ccedil;o&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Quisera estar numa praia ensolarada, &lt;br /&gt;S&amp;oacute; com minha solid&amp;atilde;o sem fundamento. &lt;br /&gt;Quisera ouvir o mar, todo o lamento &lt;br /&gt;Quando a mar&amp;eacute; na praia &amp;eacute; derramada. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quisera estar numa campina bem florada, &lt;br /&gt;Mas num sepulcro de sil&amp;ecirc;ncio e cores. &lt;br /&gt;S&amp;oacute; ouvindo o vento a balan&amp;ccedil;ar as flores, &lt;br /&gt;Contemplando borboletas em revoada. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quisera estar numa plan&amp;iacute;cie imensa. &lt;br /&gt;Num deserto de areia enorme, infindo. &lt;br /&gt;Quisera ver no c&amp;eacute;u, anjos sorrindo &lt;br /&gt;E ouvir sons de violino em nuvens densa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o mar, que &amp;agrave; praia, solu&amp;ccedil;ando, &lt;br /&gt;Derrama l&amp;aacute;grimas de lamento e dores. &lt;br /&gt;Tu &amp;eacute;s borboleta revoando... &lt;br /&gt;Tu &amp;eacute;s o vento balan&amp;ccedil;ando as flores &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eps.ufsc.br/~neodo/Odoen_Said/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ne&amp;ocirc;do Dias&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85841390?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85841390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85841390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85841390' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85818509</id><published>2002-12-11T01:37:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-11T01:37:14.980-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria escrever mais. Um conto de verdade. Mas me sinto sen&amp;atilde;o em estado potencial, sentindo que h&amp;aacute; em mim &amp;aacute;gua fresca, mas sem descobrir onde &amp;eacute; a sua fonte ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85818509?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85818509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85818509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85818509' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85817768</id><published>2002-12-11T01:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-11T01:23:32.123-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janelas. Portas. Frestas. Um sil�ncio invadiu a casa e por um instante uma temerosa expectativa pousou sobre o recinto. N�o sabia se deveria sair � rua, pedir socorro, gritar, esconder-se. Resolveu simplesmente n�o pensar mais. Lan�ou-se � sorte.  Quando se deu conta, estava na rua. Cabelos ao vento. Molhada. Chovia e o calor que sentia n�o passava. Brotava de dentro dela. Chorou, implorou que tudo fosse um sonho ruim apenas.  As imagens embaralharam-se � luz do luar. Por um tempo que lhe parecia intermin�vel, o mundo sem voc�, ficou como se deserto.. &lt;br /&gt;Abre os olhos. Nada est� feito. Nada. Bruscamente uma onda de revolta cresce por dentro. M�sculos enrijecidos endurecendo o cora��o. N�o diz nada. Apenas cerra um pouco os olhos.  E � propor��o que vai despertando de todo, ao contato do corpo ao seu lado, vai percebendo que seu sofrimento mudo n�o era nada. E que decididamente sonhou... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;um pouco de prosa enquanto os versos n�o chegam... &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85817768?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85817768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85817768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85817768' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85781271</id><published>2002-12-10T11:45:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-10T11:45:31.593-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um rosto dormindo&lt;br /&gt;um olhar atento&lt;br /&gt;um suspiro&lt;br /&gt;um telefonema repentino&lt;br /&gt;um gesto fr&amp;aacute;gil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;l&amp;aacute;bios cerrados&lt;br /&gt;cabelos molhados&lt;br /&gt;corpo jogado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o outro &amp;eacute; contemplado em sua total solid&amp;atilde;o&lt;br /&gt;ele &amp;eacute; o que &amp;eacute;. &lt;br /&gt;E o olhar que nasce chamamos de amor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85781271?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85781271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85781271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85781271' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85764005</id><published>2002-12-10T01:57:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-10T01:57:32.346-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;Eacute; uma mistura de temperaturas. &lt;br /&gt;Destemperos nas entrelinhas da minha pele.&lt;br /&gt;Preciso me acostumar com os dias de semana nos quais minha cama fica grande demais. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85764005?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85764005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85764005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85764005' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85748311</id><published>2002-12-09T20:24:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-09T21:29:47.436-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andei um pouco sem ch&amp;atilde;o. &lt;br /&gt;Perdendo a paci&amp;ecirc;ncia com a rotina.&lt;br /&gt;Faltando aulas. &lt;br /&gt;Andei pensativa.&lt;br /&gt;Muda.&lt;br /&gt;Engolindo palavras que n&amp;atilde;o sei pronunciar. &lt;br /&gt;Defendendo argumentos imprecisos - id&amp;eacute;ias repentinas. &lt;br /&gt;Inseguran&amp;ccedil;as bobas. &lt;br /&gt;Andei dormindo acordada. &lt;br /&gt;Mudando de assunto. &lt;br /&gt;Tendo pesadelos, vivendo sonhos.&lt;br /&gt;Andei sentindo saudade. &lt;br /&gt;Saudade inexplic&amp;aacute;vel. . &lt;br /&gt;Andei tentando me acertar. &lt;br /&gt;Fazendo perguntas.  &lt;br /&gt;Esperando respostas.  &lt;br /&gt;Dizendo obrigada. &lt;br /&gt;Andei me entregando.&lt;br /&gt;Falando de amor. &lt;br /&gt;Derramando l&amp;aacute;grimas por nada. &lt;br /&gt;Tendo apertos no peito. &lt;br /&gt;Controlando ansiedade. &lt;br /&gt;Buscando as palavras. &lt;br /&gt;Desmontando frases. &lt;br /&gt;Inventando pensamentos. &lt;br /&gt;Andei por ai me procurando. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Talvez para os esquisot&amp;eacute;ricos eu esteja no meu inferno astral. &lt;br /&gt;Eu acho que &amp;eacute; a chuva. :P&lt;/I&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85748311?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85748311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85748311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85748311' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85643942</id><published>2002-12-07T15:14:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-07T15:14:33.853-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;N&amp;atilde;o nascemos sabendo a quantidade de portas que devemos abrir, mas com o tempo sabemos quais temos de fechar. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85643942?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85643942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85643942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85643942' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85532191</id><published>2002-12-05T09:25:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-05T13:04:59.643-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H&amp;aacute; dias que a gente tem vontade de desaparecer n&amp;atilde;o? Pois &amp;eacute;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;Agrave;s vezes eu s&amp;oacute; queria ter algumas certezas para, ent&amp;atilde;o, poder continuar. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85532191?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85532191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85532191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85532191' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85445808</id><published>2002-12-03T19:45:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-03T21:44:58.986-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou escrever algo horr&amp;iacute;vel, mas eu estava pensando nisso hoje, h&amp;aacute; alguns minutos, quando voltava da faculdade para ser mais exata. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quest&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute;: eu n&amp;atilde;o gosto muito de encontrar com pessoas na rua quando eu tenho algum compromisso, principalmente se elas v&amp;atilde;o continuar andando aparentemente pelo mesmo caminho que eu ... bem, sabe o que &amp;eacute;? Eu ando r&amp;aacute;pido. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T&amp;aacute;, quem me conhece vai falar que eu n&amp;atilde;o gosto de andar e tenho pregui&amp;ccedil;a - &amp;eacute; verdade. Mas quando eu estou sozinha, eu ando r&amp;aacute;pido, normalmente, de walkman (vou acabar sendo assaltada, mas tudo bem, ele t&amp;aacute; velhinho e seria uma &amp;oacute;tima desculpa pra comprar outro.), ele serve como um rem&amp;eacute;dio, deste modo, eu n&amp;atilde;o noto gente que anda lerdamente, cantadinhas de mau gosto, pastores pregando no meio da rua (isso s&amp;oacute; a Ufrj faz por voc&amp;ecirc;), e os queridos ambulantes do centro da cidade vendendo seus radios made in Taiwan que tocam de forr&amp;oacute; a funk.&lt;br /&gt;Maaaaaaas quando eu encontro algu&amp;eacute;m, al&amp;eacute;m de ter que desligar minha musiquinha e tolerar toda essa gente ao meu redor, eu tenho que andar mais devagar. Ah, e n&amp;atilde;o me mandem virar Robson Cruso&amp;eacute;, piadinha sem gra&amp;ccedil;a. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ainda h&amp;aacute; outra esp&amp;eacute;cie de encontro: com os conhecidos. &lt;br /&gt;Sim, acho que assim &amp;eacute; ainda pior. Acontece quando voc&amp;ecirc; encontra aquele seu vizinho ou a amiga da amiga da amiga, que voc&amp;ecirc; sequer lembra o nome, e como voc&amp;ecirc;s est&amp;atilde;o andando pelo mesmo caminho, caminham lado a lado. Mudos. N&amp;atilde;o h&amp;aacute; assunto. Apela-se ent&amp;atilde;o para assuntos gen&amp;eacute;ricos: o tempo (o calor carioca, nesse caso espec&amp;iacute;fico), a vit&amp;oacute;ria do Lula (eeeee) , .. e.. fim. Eu n&amp;atilde;o gosto de tv, acho que acabaram meus assuntos gen&amp;eacute;ricos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al&amp;eacute;m disso, h&amp;aacute; os  transportes coletivos, no meu caso, o metr&amp;ocirc;.. .&lt;br /&gt;Nele sempre tem um Joselito pronto pra sentar do lado, e ent&amp;atilde;o, tem que socializar, conversar, j&amp;aacute; que o sil&amp;ecirc;ncio ser&amp;aacute; constrangedor. &amp;Eacute;, eu sou chata. &lt;br /&gt;( isso n&amp;atilde;o foi uma indireta, pior que encontrar um chato na rua, &amp;eacute; ver que algu&amp;eacute;m fingiu que n&amp;atilde;o te viu. Na d&amp;uacute;vida, vale o sorrisinho gen&amp;eacute;rico. Anyway, duvido que os chatos em quest&amp;atilde;o tenham o endere&amp;ccedil;o do meu Blog. E amigos e amigas, eu adoro voc&amp;ecirc;s, &amp;eacute; sempre um prazer encontr&amp;aacute;-los, e quando n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute;, amigo a gente despacha f&amp;aacute;cil. :P )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depois desse post ningu&amp;eacute;m mais fala comigo na rua. �� &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85445808?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85445808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85445808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85445808' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85432777</id><published>2002-12-03T14:46:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-03T14:46:46.826-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cansei dos dias da semana. Quero a sexta, o s�bado e o domingo. Quero voltar para casa com teus beijos fazendo bagun�a na minha pele. De outro modo, n�o escrevo. Meus textos come�am e terminam com seu gosto. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85432777?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85432777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85432777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85432777' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85359052</id><published>2002-12-02T01:51:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-02T01:51:17.130-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; que eu ganhei um presente &lt;a href="http://www.rederpg.com.br/sintese/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;dessa mo&amp;ccedil;a&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  tamb&amp;eacute;m?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.rederpg.com.br/sintese/fanart/fanart_myself.jpg" border="1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nesse &lt;a href="http://adriana.osimortais.com.br/index.php?blogid=4" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;espa&amp;ccedil;o&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  h&amp;aacute; muitos outros FanArts &lt;a href="http://www.rederpg.com.br/sintese/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;dela&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rederpg.com.br/sintese/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mo&amp;ccedil;a&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; obrigada pelo presente. Adorei. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85359052?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85359052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85359052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85359052' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85347628</id><published>2002-12-01T21:11:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-01T21:15:58.666-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;Meus verbos vivem no passado e est&amp;atilde;o t&amp;atilde;o presentes...&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85347628?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85347628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85347628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85347628' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85347546</id><published>2002-12-01T21:09:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-01T22:58:43.590-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mania de fugir e descrever mentalmente o esconderijo.&lt;br /&gt;Outro dia acordei e n&amp;atilde;o conseguia saber a dimens&amp;atilde;o do que estava acontecendo. Tudo desmorona e eu n&amp;atilde;o vejo restos em lugar algum.&lt;br /&gt;As palavras escapam-me por entres os dedos. Recuso-me a acostumar-me ao sil&amp;ecirc;ncio, mas ao mesmo tempo, n&amp;atilde;o sei o que dizer.&lt;br /&gt; Deixo assim -  caso-me com as sensa&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es. &lt;br /&gt;Cansei de atualizar as esperan&amp;ccedil;as. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minha fam&amp;iacute;lia &amp;eacute; isso mesmo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; ...I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed ...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85347546?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85347546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85347546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85347546' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85295641</id><published>2002-11-30T13:54:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-30T13:54:02.840-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;os cheiros, o gosto, as roupas, as frases, os medos, os segundos contados um a um, as breves certezas, os movimentos, os len&amp;ccedil;&amp;oacute;is, os corpos, os beijos, as sensa&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es, os del&amp;iacute;rios, os dedos marcando as ta&amp;ccedil;as de vinho, a demora das horas, a demora dos dias, a demora dos segundos sem voc&amp;ecirc;,  os olhos  se abrindo e depois se fechando -  o sil&amp;ecirc;ncio ap&amp;oacute;s o sussurro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho preenchido com poesias as palavras que eu mesma deveria dizer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85295641?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85295641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85295641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85295641' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85252588</id><published>2002-11-29T11:32:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-29T17:25:01.376-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;$�#%@#$@#!@$@$#!%#!#%!!@##!@#&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Eu s&amp;oacute; queria um colo agora.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho que deixar registrado que ap&amp;oacute;s escutar essa m&amp;uacute;sica no r&amp;aacute;dio, o refr&amp;atilde;o grudou no meu c&amp;eacute;rebro o.0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt &lt;br /&gt;So sexy it hurts !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E eu j&amp;aacute; estou cantarolando feliz pq hoje &amp;eacute; &lt;font size="3"&gt;SEXTA-FEIRA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;obs: &amp;Eacute;, &amp;eacute; raro eu ficar triste por muito tempo. \o/&lt;br /&gt;(s&amp;atilde;o 17:22 agora)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85252588?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85252588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85252588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85252588' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85251545</id><published>2002-11-29T10:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-29T11:22:55.670-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bernardo ia &amp;agrave; praia comigo agora de manh&amp;atilde;, mas teve um problema e n&amp;atilde;o pode ir. Acabou que n&amp;atilde;o fui, acho que se fosse &amp;agrave; praia hoje, sozinha, ia come&amp;ccedil;ar a chorar como uma boba. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;Eacute;, estou me sentindo sozinha.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo bem, eu posso ser chamada de carente, n&amp;atilde;o ligo.&lt;br /&gt;Estou me sentindo s&amp;oacute; e d&amp;aacute; um aperto no peito e vontade de chorar.&lt;br /&gt;whatever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N&amp;atilde;o, n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; TPM. Eu tenho essas crises de vez em quando mesmo... deve ser cabe&amp;ccedil;a vazia.. &lt;br /&gt;Quando eu estava toda atarefada e tinha milh&amp;otilde;es de coisas para estudar, n&amp;atilde;o tava assim. Agora que estou mais livre, fico pensando bobagem. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;Eacute; melhor estudar algo e parar de pensar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saudades do meu namorado que ficou ocupadinho a semana toda&lt;br /&gt;Saudades da Ana Luiza que n&amp;atilde;o fala mais comigo.&lt;br /&gt;Saudades da Viviane que fez o favor de ir pros States :|&lt;br /&gt;Saudades de quem n&amp;atilde;o foi, mas um dia vai .. n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; &lt;a href="http://www.mascara.blogger.com.br/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;irm&amp;atilde;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Saudades da Isabele, dos tempos do col&amp;eacute;gio ...&lt;br /&gt;Saudade da Fabiana, antes de brigarmos ... saudades do tempo que ela era minha melhor amiga .. &lt;br /&gt;(N&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; a &lt;a href="http://www.fragmentos.blogspace.net/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fabi&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; n&amp;atilde;o, essa mo&amp;ccedil;a linda est&amp;aacute; sempre presente e &amp;eacute; imposs&amp;iacute;vel brigar com ela.)&lt;br /&gt;Saudades do meu av&amp;ocirc;, que me escutava quando eu ficava resmungando, falando como eu sentia saudades das pessoas.. e agora, ele &amp;eacute; a saudade que n&amp;atilde;o tem fim...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saudades de mim &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85251545?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85251545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85251545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85251545' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85212738</id><published>2002-11-28T13:40:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-28T13:50:33.710-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, your template was not found on the server. If you just created this blog, click the "choose a new template" link above and select your template again. If you continue to recieve this message (or this is not a new blog), please try back later and/or contact support@blogger.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COMO ASSIM?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAD&amp;Ecirc; O MEU TEMPLATE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*desespero*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reapareceu em menos de 2 minutos, o que n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; uma Blogueira deseperada �� &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem, tenho prova de Processo hoje e estou estudando desde de ontem, o dia todo. Entendam, quando eu falo *todo* &amp;eacute; todo MESMO, s&amp;oacute; parei alguns minutos periodicamente para descansar, eu n&amp;atilde;o conseguia mais escrever. Fui dormir &amp;agrave;s 2hs da matina, e acordei &amp;agrave;s 9hs, e estou estudando. Ainda. aye. Como eu quero fazer logo essa prova.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E  se o tempo continuar lindo, vou me presentear com uma manh&amp;atilde; na praia amanh&amp;atilde;.. ai ai, vou acabar enjoando dessa vida praiana ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85212738?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85212738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85212738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85212738' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85170538</id><published>2002-11-27T15:46:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-27T16:06:15.910-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os sons estavam mais espa&amp;ccedil;ados e de uma maneira nova, eu andava desligada. As vozes que me rodeavam, quando me encontravam, acabavam como que cortadas pela respira&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o ainda ofegante. O calor constante parecia frio quando estou  longe de voc&amp;ecirc;. Atrav&amp;eacute;s da porta entreaberta, o rosto que momentos antes estava no meu colo. O sil&amp;ecirc;ncio interrompido por suspiros ap&amp;oacute;s o encontro dos corpos dava cor a cena. Sensa&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es que preenchem toda a extens&amp;atilde;o do espirito, que n&amp;atilde;o deixam pensar, que n&amp;atilde;o deixam agir, que n&amp;atilde;o deixam claramente ser. Como se n&amp;atilde;o tiv&amp;eacute;ssemos dormido, sobrevive em n&amp;oacute;s qualquer coisa de sonho, e h&amp;aacute; um torpor do sol do dia a aquecer a superf&amp;iacute;cie estagnada de sentidos. Uma overdose.  &amp;Eacute; uma bebedeira de n&amp;atilde;o ser nada...&amp;Eacute; vontade apenas de permanecer. Assim ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85170538?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85170538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85170538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85170538' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85112484</id><published>2002-11-26T13:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-26T13:53:22.133-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outro dia um menino na faculdade voltava comigo at&amp;eacute; o metr&amp;ocirc;, e como acontece diariamente, passamos por um Pastor, o homem fica l&amp;aacute;, na Central do Brasil &amp;agrave;s 22hs com seu microfone, lendo trechos da B&amp;iacute;blia, ele e sua plat&amp;eacute;ia de 2 ou 3,  quando muito. Ele nunca parece desanimado, sempre que passo por l&amp;aacute; ele est&amp;aacute; lendo lendo ou cantando. E eu que sequer sou crist&amp;atilde;, fico pensando, imaginando o que motiva esse homem. Ele tem f&amp;eacute;. Talvez falsa, talvez burra, talvez seja a &amp;uacute;nica esperan&amp;ccedil;a ainda viva nele, uma t&amp;aacute;bua de salva&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o. Talvez.  E o menino me perguntou no que eu acreditava e eu n&amp;atilde;o soube o que responder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que eu sempre procurei o "caminho de Deus", das formas mais diferentes e fiquei no beco de Deus, ser&amp;aacute; que existe isso?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez o mundo seja como um tubo de ensaio que foi sacudido, a &amp;aacute;gua &amp;eacute; turva,  mas quando o dep&amp;oacute;sito se assentar, essa &amp;aacute;gua vai ficar l&amp;iacute;mpida. Ainda que o fundo seja de sangue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85112484?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85112484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85112484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85112484' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-85032576</id><published>2002-11-25T00:28:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-25T00:28:52.723-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bem, acho que o meu post sobre a praia rand&amp;ocirc;micamente surtiu efeitos o.0&lt;br /&gt;Fui hoje &amp;agrave; praia de tarde, com HellCat (Andrea ), Rtl (Rafael) e &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pedro&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; - acho que meu namorado se empolgou mesmo hoje, resolveu que vamos &amp;agrave; praia e ficaremos bronzeados e tal \o/ .. fico feliz por fazermos algo assim juntos... :)&lt;br /&gt;Depois da praia, ficamos num quiosque na Lagoa e fomos levar Hell at&amp;eacute; as barcas, ela mora em Nikity. De noite, assistimos com Marcia e a m&amp;atilde;e do Pedro - Dona Julieta (que se ver esse *dona* me mata) - A Bela e a Fera  e Pacto dos Lobos... &amp;eacute;... *O* contraste. Pacto dos Lobos &amp;eacute; legal, mas sem querer comparar, claro que eu AMEI "A Bela e a Fera" - t&amp;aacute;, deve ser a mil&amp;eacute;sima vez que eu vejo, mas eu simplesmente amo esse desenho, &amp;eacute; demais.. sempre fico com l&amp;aacute;grimas nos olhos e tal. :P&lt;br /&gt;Vou dormir que amanh&amp;atilde; tenho prova e estou MORTA, mas vale a pena, sempre vale...&lt;br /&gt; :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-85032576?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85032576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/85032576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85032576' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84975817</id><published>2002-11-23T16:25:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-23T16:25:17.750-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Encontro-te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nos nossos corpos perdidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no encontro dos olhos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;na pele que transpira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no seu beijo profundo no meio da noite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a beber suspiros nas minhas entranhas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;onde vagas submerso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;abrindo caminho pelas minhas&lt;br /&gt;&amp;aacute;guas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84975817?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84975817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84975817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84975817' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84971227</id><published>2002-11-23T13:59:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-23T14:02:48.236-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que sempre necessitei muito da aten&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o das pessoas, talvez seja uma pessoa carente mesmo. E atualmente percebo que passo muito tempo sozinha. Sim, sozinha, mesmo rodeada de pessoas, muitas vezes estou no meu quarto s&amp;oacute; com meus pensamentos e afazeres. Ou ainda, na biblioteca da faculdade, ou na rua, resolvendo coisas. Vejam bem, n&amp;atilde;o acho anormal passar tempo s&amp;oacute;, &amp;eacute; at&amp;eacute; necess&amp;aacute;rio, mas eu n&amp;atilde;o gosto realmente. E agora estou criando o h&amp;aacute;bito de ir &amp;agrave; praia. Sozinha. Meu namorado &amp;eacute; mais ocupado que eu e eu n&amp;atilde;o sou uma pessoa com milh&amp;otilde;es de amigos e os pouco que tenho ou moram longe, ou n&amp;atilde;o gostam de praia, ou nem sempre est&amp;atilde;o dispon&amp;iacute;veis ou com vontade de ir. Esse tipo de coisa me impedia de fazer as coisas - a necessidade de fazer algo s&amp;oacute; - eu acabava em casa, aborrecida e n&amp;atilde;o conseguia fazer outras coisas. Agora n&amp;atilde;o. Quando me d&amp;aacute; vontade (e tenho tempo), vou &amp;agrave; praia, levo meu walkman, sento um pouco, fico escutando m&amp;uacute;sica e pegando sol. Depois, ando um pouco com os p&amp;eacute;s na &amp;aacute;gua, beirando o mar, molho as m&amp;atilde;os, o rosto, &amp;agrave;s vezes entro na &amp;aacute;gua e acabo com o calor que sinto. Antes de ir  embora, sento num quiosque e tomo um suco. E volto para casa, feliz e satisfeita - pronta para o resto do dia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84971227?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84971227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84971227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84971227' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84869129</id><published>2002-11-21T11:57:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-21T11:57:52.883-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.slacklife.com.br/leftline/img/nandda.jpg" align="center" border="1"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganhei  &lt;a href="http://leftline.blig.ig.com.br/inicial.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;dele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84869129?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84869129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84869129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84869129' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84868187</id><published>2002-11-21T11:32:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-21T12:14:01.940-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O olho triste capta com exatid&amp;atilde;o o universo conturbado das pessoas em crise, sob a densa n&amp;eacute;voa da incerteza desesperadora, ou sob os pesados bra&amp;ccedil;os do passado aterrado. Percebe os erros evit&amp;aacute;veis e brigas desnecess&amp;aacute;rias... &lt;br /&gt;O olho feliz v&amp;ecirc; que o universo depende de cada um, algumas certezas podem ser perp&amp;eacute;tuas por um instante, o passado &amp;eacute; p&amp;aacute;gina virada,  as brigas passam e que os erros sempre acontecem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84868187?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84868187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84868187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84868187' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84868124</id><published>2002-11-21T11:30:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-21T11:33:58.880-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;An angelface smiles to me&lt;br /&gt;Under a headline of tragedy&lt;br /&gt;That smile used to give me warmth&lt;br /&gt;Farewell - no words to say ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nightwish.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Angels Fall First - Nightwish&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84868124?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84868124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84868124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84868124' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84785672</id><published>2002-11-19T21:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-19T21:23:30.956-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medo.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de andar na rua. Medo de ir e vir. Medo da noite, da escurid&amp;atilde;o, das estrelas que n&amp;atilde;o aparecem para tornar a noite menos sombria. Medo das cal&amp;ccedil;adas com po&amp;ccedil;as, medo do sil&amp;ecirc;ncio que me cerca e medo do barulho dos passos.  Medo. &lt;br /&gt;Medo dessa cidade. Medo das pessoas, dos desconhecidos, dos olhares, da voz irreconhec&amp;iacute;vel, da m&amp;atilde;o gelada me tocando com for&amp;ccedil;a, da palavra evasiva. Medo.  &lt;br /&gt;E revolta. &lt;br /&gt;E nojo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84785672?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84785672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84785672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84785672' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84736011</id><published>2002-11-18T23:17:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-19T00:03:43.556-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Provas na faculdade, final do per&amp;iacute;odo. &lt;br /&gt;N&amp;atilde;o estou com MUITA vontade de escrever, as id&amp;eacute;ias que passam pela minha cabe&amp;ccedil;a voam, n&amp;atilde;o consigo dar continuidade ..&lt;br /&gt;Estou estudando Responsabilidade Civil, assunto que parece bastante interessante e simples. Direito Penal, ao contr&amp;aacute;rio do que achava at&amp;eacute; per&amp;iacute;odo passado, n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; t&amp;atilde;o simples e nem t&amp;atilde;o interessante, as aulas de Legisla&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o Especial Penal s&amp;atilde;o as mais interessantes certamente.. Impress&amp;atilde;o essa proveniente da minha facilidade s&amp;uacute;bita ao estudar Direito Civil, i guess. &lt;br /&gt;Estou tendo bastante facilidade com Processo Civil e Contratos, provavelmente por causa do est&amp;aacute;gio feito durante o ano passado e parte desse ano. &lt;br /&gt;Al&amp;eacute;m de toda a mat&amp;eacute;ria pendente na faculdade, tenho provas de Franc&amp;ecirc;s na Alian&amp;ccedil;a semana que vem. Franc&amp;ecirc;s &amp;eacute; uma l&amp;iacute;ngua muito bonita e  n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; muito f&amp;aacute;cil. &lt;br /&gt;Incr&amp;iacute;vel como funciona  o *costume*, hoje, eu estava escrevendo algo em ingl&amp;ecirc;s aqui e tive que parar para pensar em situa&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es simples, como a coloca&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o de um artigo definido, me peguei escrevendo "un" e "une", pensando em franc&amp;ecirc;s, colocando o adjetivo depois do substantivo, de qualquer modo, isso n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; de todo ruim, sinal que j&amp;aacute; penso algo em franc&amp;ecirc;s mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje passei parte da tarde conversando com &lt;a href="http://www.mrgn.tk/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Helena&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, uma amiga do &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pedro&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; que est&amp;aacute; vivendo na Holanda, ainda n&amp;atilde;o nos conhecemos, mas ser&amp;aacute; muito bom conhec&amp;ecirc;-la quando ela estiver no Rio, em janeiro. Uma pessoa simp&amp;aacute;tica, inteligente e carinhosa. &amp;Eacute; sempre bom conhecer pessoas assim.  (E vamos acampar e ir a praia, n&amp;oacute;s ficaremos morenas ^^ )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bem, na falta da inspira&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o, j&amp;aacute; vi que esse Blog virou meu di&amp;aacute;rio, vamos ver o que acontece... :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update: Para aqueles que n&amp;atilde;o vivem no Rio temos uma palavra o resume no momento *CALOR*. Sim, MUITO calor. Principalmente para uma pessoa como eu que estuda no Centro da Cidade. Aquilo l&amp;aacute; est&amp;aacute; O inferno. &lt;br /&gt;E eu vou para l&amp;aacute; duas vezes por dia, aulas de manh&amp;atilde; e de noite. Paci&amp;ecirc;ncia. :|&lt;br /&gt;Certas coisas s&amp;oacute; a UFRJ faz por voc&amp;ecirc;. (Tudo bem, eu quis pegar mat&amp;eacute;ria do 5o. per&amp;iacute;odo - estou no 4o - mas mas mas.. eu tenho que culpar *algu&amp;eacute;m*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84736011?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84736011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84736011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84736011' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84538966</id><published>2002-11-14T17:36:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-14T17:41:58.256-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim, h&amp;aacute; um tempo para construir e outro para deixar o vento quebrar a vidra&amp;ccedil;a solta ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E deixar essa vidra&amp;ccedil;a se partir nem sempre &amp;eacute; ruim, &amp;agrave;s vezes ela permite que novos ares entrem e nos renovem ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No momento, construo e mantenho minhas janelas abertas para n&amp;atilde;o correr o risco delas se partirem. E o ar que me visita &amp;eacute; o mesmo e muitos, por vezes uma leve brisa, em outras, uma forte tempestade que me faz perder o ch&amp;atilde;o e voar junto com ela. Sempre me envolvendo e renovando. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84538966?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84538966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84538966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84538966' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84476195</id><published>2002-11-13T14:02:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-13T14:51:50.190-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabe quando voc&amp;ecirc; tem a impress&amp;atilde;o que deve ficar quieto pra n&amp;atilde;o fazer besteira? &amp;Eacute;, tipo isso. &lt;br /&gt;whatever&lt;br /&gt;Estou sem paci&amp;ecirc;ncia... e acho que falei demais ontem. Ali&amp;aacute;s, n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; falta de paci&amp;ecirc;ncia, podem rir, mas talvez tenha sido *sinceridade ao extremo*, &amp;eacute;, acho que isso existe. N&amp;atilde;o que eu n&amp;atilde;o acredite no que eu falei, acredito, por&amp;eacute;m, nem sempre se fala realmente o que se acha - n&amp;atilde;o se deve tirar a esperan&amp;ccedil;a de uma pessoa.  Bem, tenho que me desculpar com uma amiga que eu amo  e s&amp;oacute; percebi isso hoje. Idiota. &lt;br /&gt;Well &lt;a href="http://katchu.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt; &lt;b&gt;... i have thorns like any rose...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No patient mode MUST be off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84476195?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84476195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84476195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84476195' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84452690</id><published>2002-11-13T01:39:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-13T01:39:00.353-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Encuca&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fechar ou n&amp;atilde;o fechar o Blog? &lt;br /&gt;Delet&amp;aacute;-lo? &lt;br /&gt;Simplesmente parar de postar?&lt;br /&gt;Dar um tempo...&lt;br /&gt;Repensar o que escrever?&lt;br /&gt;Estou me expondo demais? &lt;br /&gt;Bem, h&amp;aacute; algo demais nisso?&lt;br /&gt;Vou pensar.. pensar.. &lt;br /&gt;e enquanto isso, n&amp;atilde;o sei como ele fica.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na verdade, estou &amp;oacute;tima. Mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;Nada aconteceu. Digo, nada ruim. Parece que coisas boas acontecem todos os dias...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S&amp;oacute; estou pensando se devia me mostrar tanto como acho que me mostro aqui..&lt;br /&gt;&amp;eacute; isso.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto penso.. n&amp;atilde;o sei como fica.. n&amp;atilde;o sei... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84452690?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84452690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84452690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84452690' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84414868</id><published>2002-11-12T10:57:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-12T13:35:20.660-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estava aqui pensando.. Eu poderia tentar escrever um poema, poderia escrever declara&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es de amor. Poderia dizer "Eu te amo" e escrever isso aqui mil vezes em rosa e com letras enormes. &lt;br /&gt;Mas cheguei a conclus&amp;atilde;o que n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; preciso. &lt;br /&gt;Eu amo n&amp;atilde;o s&amp;oacute; hoje, mas a cada minuto. Amo quando estamos sozinhos, ou quando estamos com os amigos. Amo em bares, em festas e amo quando estou vendo TV ou assistindo desenho. Amo lendo mang&amp;aacute; ou tendo discuss&amp;otilde;es jur&amp;iacute;dicas. Eu te amo ao acordar, antes de trocarmos as roupas, com a roupa pelo avesso ou sem roupas. Amo, inclusive, quando acordo s&amp;oacute;,  quando te tive em sonhos ou simplesmente no 'Bom dia' cotidiano. Amo com toda a pompa e circunst&amp;acirc;ncia, num jantar a dois e amo vendo um filme e comendo pipoca. Amo na beira da praia, sentada na cal&amp;ccedil;ada, olhando o dia amanhecer... amo quando estou dan&amp;ccedil;ando junto com voc&amp;ecirc;. Amo a paix&amp;atilde;o dos primeiros dias, das descobertas e amo a previsibilidade que surge com a conviv&amp;ecirc;ncia. Amo te conhecer. Amo quando estou sozinha, pensando, divagando sobre o passado, presente e futuro. E amo ainda com paix&amp;atilde;o quando meus olhos encontram os seus.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mais um m&amp;ecirc;s ...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84414868?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84414868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84414868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84414868' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84365417</id><published>2002-11-11T13:41:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-11T13:44:48.413-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Algumas pessoas preferem a paix&amp;atilde;o ao amor. J&amp;aacute; me disseram que o amor n&amp;atilde;o tem o mesmo brilho, n&amp;atilde;o ofusca... e talvez seja verdade. O amor n&amp;atilde;o tira o ar, n&amp;atilde;o toma o o f&amp;ocirc;lego como a paix&amp;atilde;o. &amp;Eacute; mais luz que clareia o caminho, que brilho a enfeitar.  O amor d&amp;aacute; o ch&amp;atilde;o,  n&amp;atilde;o precisa de muitas festas, j&amp;aacute; &amp;eacute;  uma comemora��o. No amor, voc&amp;ecirc; n&amp;atilde;o &amp;eacute; o ar que eu respiro, mas a brisa suave que me envolve - ar que me toca constantemente sem precisar estar dentro de mim - e fadado me deixar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84365417?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84365417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84365417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84365417' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84364412</id><published>2002-11-11T13:17:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-11T13:24:25.763-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uma brisa tocando meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;uma l�ngua que me parte;&lt;br /&gt;debaixo da minha pele&lt;br /&gt;um calor corre&lt;br /&gt;viola os meus sentidos&lt;br /&gt;eras como vento a me envolver&lt;br /&gt;e eu n&amp;atilde;o sabia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84364412?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84364412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84364412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84364412' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84199081</id><published>2002-11-07T22:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-07T22:53:13.090-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se de tudo fica um pouco, por que n�o ficaria um pouco de mim? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84199081?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84199081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84199081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84199081' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84150566</id><published>2002-11-07T01:09:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-07T11:52:23.233-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ... em outro olhar&lt;br /&gt;os mesmos olhos ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu te vejo um instante apenas e as palavras todas me abandonam. O sil&amp;ecirc;ncio cala meus sentidos. Debaixo da minha pele, no mesmo instante, corre um fogo sutil.&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos n�o te percebem completo..&lt;br /&gt;Um fr�mito se apodera do corpo todo. &lt;br /&gt;Penso em  te procurar, quando na verdade, voc&amp;ecirc; est&amp;aacute; aqui. &lt;br /&gt;Como o ar entre meus l&amp;aacute;bios.&lt;br /&gt;Acariciando minha pele, embara&amp;ccedil;ando meus cabelos.&lt;br /&gt;Tua recorda��o  me penetra&lt;br /&gt;Uma lembran&amp;ccedil;a t&amp;atilde;o viva e que desperta tantos sentidos,  que ao te ver, quase n&amp;atilde;o te reconhe&amp;ccedil;o. &amp;Eacute; preciso fechar meus olhos para te enxergar. Inteiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84150566?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84150566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84150566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84150566' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-84116842</id><published>2002-11-06T12:33:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-06T12:40:26.083-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ... depois de um breve&lt;br /&gt;sil�ncio, depois de um ligeiro recolhimento&lt;br /&gt;e fechar de olhos ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ... penso em minhas  letras&lt;br /&gt;sinto minhas palavras&lt;br /&gt;a alma cheia de dedos te procura ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... voltam minhas linhas feitas para voc&amp;ecirc;&lt;br /&gt;voc� que deixa em tudo seu semblante&lt;br /&gt;s� pra deixar tudo&lt;br /&gt;com reflexo de saudade..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-84116842?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84116842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/84116842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84116842' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83858513</id><published>2002-11-01T01:18:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-11-01T01:19:14.610-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;De muito desejar, quero a  eternidade&lt;br /&gt;Para te amar, l�quida, descendo escorrida derretida&lt;br /&gt;Pelos poros ... matando suas &lt;br /&gt;Fomes e sedes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ... deixando a m�o&lt;br /&gt;errar&lt;br /&gt;sobre a cintura&lt;br /&gt;apenas conivente ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De  tanto te amar, sou  possu�da por vis&amp;otilde;es, por carnes, por toques &lt;br /&gt;... brotam novos sentidos m&amp;uacute;ltiplos que te percebem...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te procuro por caminhos sem rastros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo por amar sendo &amp;aacute;gua em meio &amp;agrave; terra&lt;br /&gt;cercada &lt;br /&gt;pronta para ser absorvida&lt;br /&gt;por voc&amp;ecirc;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83858513?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83858513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83858513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#83858513' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83836971</id><published>2002-10-31T16:05:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-31T16:35:02.906-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;"Os dicion�rios registram as palavras amorosas e omitem os ru�dos que as entremeiam ou substituem."&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.estadao.com.br/drummond/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Carlos Drummond de Andrade&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em &lt;a href="http://www.carlosdrummond.com.br/avesso/intro_a.htm" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;O Avesso das Coisas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O centen&amp;aacute;rio de Drummond foi comemorado n&amp;atilde;o s&amp;oacute; aqui no Brasil, mas tamb&amp;eacute;m em Portugal, na  Universidade de Lisboa, na sua &lt;a href="http://www.fl.ul.pt/varios/drummond.htm" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Faculdade de Letras&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. No entanto, as comemora&amp;ccedil;&amp;otilde;es come&amp;ccedil;aram &lt;a href="http://www.estado.estadao.com.br/editorias/2002/05/11/cad028.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;ano passado&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, sendo o ano de 2002 dedicado a esse singular poeta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.releituras.com/drummond_bio.asp" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ele&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; que nasceu em 1902 em Minas Gerais e faleceu em 1987 deixou uma grande obra ... &lt;a href="http://www.na-cp.rnp.br/~murgel/textos/pdrummond.htm" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;se de tudo fica um pouco&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, ele muito deixou.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83836971?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83836971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83836971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83836971' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83824954</id><published>2002-10-31T11:37:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-31T11:37:49.923-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Para que a gente escreve, se n�o � para juntar nossos pedacinhos? &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83824954?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83824954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83824954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83824954' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83785613</id><published>2002-10-30T17:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-30T17:40:31.986-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uma plan�cie sem cor.&lt;br /&gt;sem vento&lt;br /&gt;sombria&lt;br /&gt;deserto quente que sufoca&lt;br /&gt;frio que me rasga a pele&lt;br /&gt;uma plan�cie distante&lt;br /&gt;areia clara&lt;br /&gt;vegeta&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o esparsa&lt;br /&gt;o nada&lt;br /&gt;uma plan&amp;iacute;cie seca&lt;br /&gt;regada&lt;br /&gt;por l&amp;aacute;grimas&lt;br /&gt;derramadas&lt;br /&gt;s&amp;oacute;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83785613?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83785613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83785613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83785613' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83724982</id><published>2002-10-29T14:25:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-29T14:28:40.240-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brincando de esconde-esconde&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Vou me procurar, se me achar, volto. &amp;Eacute; s&amp;oacute; isso.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83724982?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83724982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83724982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83724982' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83661225</id><published>2002-10-28T11:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-28T11:20:28.973-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guardo seus beijos, poemas,  romances, palavras, encantamentos, paisagens invis�veis, sil�ncios.&lt;br /&gt;As palavras secaram no l�bio de vinho. &lt;br /&gt;� uma dor que n�o merecia.&lt;br /&gt;Todo o resto de repente ficou pequeno, min�sculo, confuso. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vejo seu sorriso lento, m�gico, contagiante, apaixonado, meigo, quieto. &lt;br /&gt;Escrevi mais nos momentos que precisava respirar fundo, absorvendo todo o ar poss�vel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O meu amor �  poesia.&lt;br /&gt;Nos seus olhos vivos.  Na sua boca perfeita. &lt;br /&gt;Todas as palavras s�o os desejos de minha intimidade.  A voz que p�ra. Os olhos que observam os detalhes. &lt;b&gt;As palavras est�o dormindo no canto da boca.&lt;/b&gt; Os gestos. � essa a poesia inating�vel e indescrit�vel. A poesia que vive em mim. Poesia que � voc�.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas o  corpo est� ausente. O gesto n�o est� aqui.  Por enquanto.&lt;br /&gt;Devem ser guardadas todas as minhas frases jogadas.  Para voc�.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83661225?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83661225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83661225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83661225' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83659490</id><published>2002-10-28T10:15:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-11-01T11:48:35.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A verdade � que eu n�o estou com muita vontade de escrever. &lt;br /&gt;N�o, nada aconteceu. Eu estou na minha rotina, e n�o estou reclamando, minha rotina est� �tima. &lt;br /&gt;Estou com vontade de estudar, sair, namorar, ver as pessoas que gosto... n�o tenho muito o que escrever realmente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A elei��o correu bem ontem, n�o houve confus�o, mas muitas urnas pifaram - e todas da minha zona eleitoral foram trocadas por novas urnas eletr�nicas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://kretina.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Anita&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, sei que estou te devendo poemas, mas... acho que ficarei em d�vida durante algum tempo...  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83659490?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83659490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83659490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83659490' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83563031</id><published>2002-10-26T16:04:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-26T16:04:44.636-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sol&lt;br /&gt;Praia&lt;br /&gt;Calor&lt;br /&gt;Mar&lt;br /&gt;M�sica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N�o quero outra vida. &lt;br /&gt;Como � bom viver no Rio de Janeiro. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Agora estou com uma cor saud�vel!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83563031?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83563031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83563031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83563031' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83472225</id><published>2002-10-24T15:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-24T15:50:04.140-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A �nsia travando o peito, o olho inundado.&lt;br /&gt;E  da minha boca fechada nasceram sussurros e palavras mudas ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83472225?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83472225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83472225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83472225' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83381486</id><published>2002-10-22T22:49:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-22T23:02:31.680-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;os movimentos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que se deitam &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a poesia inesperada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;palavra c�ustica &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;letras que fervem &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o teu tempero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mergulhado em mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;devagar imprimo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o primeiro &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;olhar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mudo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sufocando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;os gritos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sussurros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o sil�ncio louco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que penetra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;completa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;toma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;matando os ru�dos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tirando a tua boca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;apagando os restos dos dias&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;deixando &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s� &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;voc�&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt; ... saudades ... &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83381486?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83381486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83381486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83381486' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83302658</id><published>2002-10-21T13:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-22T15:29:18.280-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu preciso pegar sol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou MUITO branca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero ir � praia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E vou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E tenho dito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update: Meus planos de ir a praia todo s�bado de manh� est�o amea�ados. N�o acredito. Eu resolvi isso e chove aqui no Rio. Hoje ainda � ter�a, espero que melhore. Logo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83302658?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83302658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83302658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83302658' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83300486</id><published>2002-10-21T12:24:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-21T17:21:10.160-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma pontada no peito.&lt;br /&gt;Medo.&lt;br /&gt;Inseguran�a. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;acho que j� passou&lt;br /&gt;t�o r�pido quanto chegou&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83300486?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83300486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83300486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83300486' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83218134</id><published>2002-10-19T14:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-19T14:16:22.486-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Meu amor latente &lt;br /&gt;pulsa&lt;br /&gt;Impulsa&lt;br /&gt;contra voc�&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83218134?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83218134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83218134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83218134' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83218120</id><published>2002-10-19T14:10:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-19T14:15:13.436-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uma fus�o de corpos&lt;br /&gt;de suor&lt;br /&gt;de carne&lt;br /&gt;de calor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a boca, &lt;br /&gt;o tato, &lt;br /&gt;o cheiro: &lt;br /&gt;as impress�es digitais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;a l�ngua do meu beijo&lt;br /&gt;voc� � a tradu��o &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83218120?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83218120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83218120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83218120' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83218026</id><published>2002-10-19T14:07:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-19T14:15:30.656-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escrevo meus poemas &lt;br /&gt;no rascunho da tua pele ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83218026?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83218026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83218026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83218026' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83217634</id><published>2002-10-19T13:54:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-19T14:15:48.640-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Beijo&lt;br /&gt;Teu beijo&lt;br /&gt;No centro&lt;br /&gt;Do teu desejo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83217634?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83217634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83217634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83217634' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83174425</id><published>2002-10-18T13:20:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-18T13:20:57.350-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;E a vida se encarrega &lt;br /&gt;de transformar tudo &lt;br /&gt;em raiva &lt;br /&gt;Ou rima. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83174425?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83174425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83174425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83174425' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83174278</id><published>2002-10-18T13:16:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-18T13:16:56.926-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;s�nteses&lt;br /&gt;                ant�teses&lt;br /&gt;     olhe por onde anda&lt;br /&gt;      pode ser meu cora��o&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83174278?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83174278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83174278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83174278' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83132262</id><published>2002-10-17T16:57:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-17T17:01:26.700-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ao dormir, esmaguei minhas palavras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83132262?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83132262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83132262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83132262' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83129315</id><published>2002-10-17T15:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-17T15:50:39.900-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parece mais dif�cil n�o-ser que ser. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83129315?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83129315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83129315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83129315' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83128845</id><published>2002-10-17T15:35:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-17T15:43:21.873-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Engra�ado, recebi um e-mail falando que n�o falo de mim no meu Blog, que s� posto meus poemas. &lt;br /&gt;Engana-se: cada v�rgula desses poemas tem uma Fernanda -  uma que j� foi, uma que �.. e uma que quer ser tamb�m. Todas. Em cada palavra, cada ponto, cada espa�o deixado.&lt;br /&gt;Ocupo cada &lt;b&gt;negrito&lt;/b&gt;. Curvo-me a cada &lt;i&gt;it�lico&lt;/i&gt;. Sim, e poucos notam onde cada uma delas se esconde (e se mostra). Talvez eu tenha me deixado esmagar pelas entrelinhas. Uma pena. Ou um b�lsamo.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OBS: E ironicamente minutos antes escrevi um post sem poemas ou versos. Um post s� falando como eu estou. Ou n�o estou. N�o estou para versos. Curioso. Ali�s, dois posts, se contarmos  com esse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83128845?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83128845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83128845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83128845' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83126789</id><published>2002-10-17T14:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-17T15:13:12.183-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faz tempo que n�o me sinto assim.&lt;br /&gt;Veio uma nuvenzinha, n�o sei de onde, n�o sei o porqu�.&lt;br /&gt;� isso.&lt;br /&gt;Mas acaba passando.&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto isso, fico escutando Janis Joplin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.joplin.hpg.ig.com.br/fotos/stage2.jpg" align="center" border="1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;...I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it, &lt;br /&gt;Take it! &lt;br /&gt;Take another little piece of my heart now, baby! ...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83126789?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83126789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83126789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83126789' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83102140</id><published>2002-10-17T01:51:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-17T01:51:50.650-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;Palavras l�quidas, deleitosas, �speras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obscenas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras coladas � tua boca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras que te sorvo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras transfixiadas. Em mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83102140?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83102140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83102140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83102140' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3549208.post-83044637</id><published>2002-10-16T00:02:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-16T00:02:05.330-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A poesia&lt;br /&gt;-� s� abrir os olhos e ver - &lt;a href="http://shinji-kun.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;voc�&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3549208-83044637?l=nandda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83044637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3549208/posts/default/83044637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nandda.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#83044637' title=''/><author><name>Fernanda Goulart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01260587544280040290</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
