<?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-35463002</id><updated>2012-02-17T02:59:49.573+01:00</updated><category term='Danças'/><category term='Conversas'/><category term='Sopa de letras'/><category term='o meio e o futuro incerto'/><category term='Tradições'/><category term='Prémios'/><category term='de Outros'/><category term='tolices'/><category term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><category term='prendinhas'/><category term='Questões'/><category term='Pensamentos para a vida'/><category term='Novembro 2005'/><category term='Ciclos'/><category term='(in)decisões'/><category term='You and I'/><category term='desejos'/><category term='Às Vezes de Noite'/><category term='Smile'/><category term='Costumes'/><category term='You'/><category term='The end'/><category term='Frases'/><category term='desabafos'/><category term='amour'/><category term='Sentimentos (In)certezas'/><category term='Suffering'/><category term='Poemas'/><category term='Concertos'/><category term='Músicas e letras'/><category term='Myself'/><category term='Nós'/><category term='Momentos'/><category term='Sentimentos'/><category term='Citações'/><category term='amizade'/><category term='Decisões'/><category term='Dias festivos'/><category term='O Amor pelo Amor'/><category term='Fall in'/><category term='Dias'/><title type='text'>Às vezes de noite</title><subtitle type='html'>Existem sonhos que se tornam reais, lagartas que se transformam em borboletas, imagens que ganham vida e almas que se tocam como que por magia...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>190</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8975610487648443271</id><published>2008-12-08T14:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:59:47.919+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The end'/><title type='text'>Às vezes de Noite... Digo adeus.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Às Vezes de[a] Noite acaba aqui!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMu2ifZ4I5I/AAAAAAAAB4A/EqkT2vNStww/s1600-h/Fim.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245486894664917906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMu2ifZ4I5I/AAAAAAAAB4A/EqkT2vNStww/s400/Fim.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Obrigada a todos&lt;/span&gt; que preencheram este espaço de &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;sorrisos&lt;/span&gt; e &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;palavras&lt;/span&gt;. Mesmo quando o meu coração apenas tinha dúvidas e medos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See you here:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://encontrosluminosos.blogspot.com/"&gt;Encontros Luminosos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://fragilfoot.blogspot.com/"&gt;Fragil Foot&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://nogsneverland.blogspot.com/"&gt;Neverland&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://esticquenipuc.blogspot.com/"&gt;Estic que ni puc&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogbelovsky.blogs.sapo.pt/"&gt;Wild is the wind&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8975610487648443271?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8975610487648443271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8975610487648443271&amp;isPopup=true' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8975610487648443271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8975610487648443271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/12/s-vezes-de-noite-digo-adeus.html' title='Às vezes de Noite... Digo adeus.'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMu2ifZ4I5I/AAAAAAAAB4A/EqkT2vNStww/s72-c/Fim.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3981903264105239679</id><published>2008-12-03T16:53:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T00:54:53.878+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='O Amor pelo Amor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o meio e o futuro incerto'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a true love story? – The end [of the story]</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcWOa3IVPI/AAAAAAAAC5U/zRG9B83jil0/s1600-h/2665043253_0f212678d2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcWOa3IVPI/AAAAAAAAC5U/zRG9B83jil0/s400/2665043253_0f212678d2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275709925472359666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muito se passou entretanto depois desses primeiros momentos em que eles se conheceram. Viviam em mundos/países diferentes e ocasionalmente continuavam a encontrar-se um no outro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcV10P8WkI/AAAAAAAAC5M/KhdffRLGjY0/s1600-h/2622253288_30cffa342c_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcV10P8WkI/AAAAAAAAC5M/KhdffRLGjY0/s400/2622253288_30cffa342c_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275709502790588994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Dessa história nasceu um verdadeiro amor, com muito sofrimento e felicidade que caminhavam de mãos dadas. Surgiu&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; o amor pelo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;amor&lt;/span&gt; e um futuro incerto para ele(s).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mas tudo o que viveram e sentiram era só deles e de mais ninguém, e isso ninguém lhes pode tirar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;O AMOR PELO AMOR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcTaHYS-0I/AAAAAAAAC5E/06MAVgYHHQ8/s400/Cascada_by_complejo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275706827866307394" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);   line-height: 20px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);   line-height: 20px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);   line-height: normal;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Acordar a meio da noite com o coração aos pulos como se a respiração fosse rebentar naquele preciso momento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);   line-height: 20px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Esquecer que se está sozinho. Que a cama está vazia e que, mesmo assim, não te apetece sair dela. A chuva bate na janela como se alguém chamasse por ti constantemente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Reviras-te e aninhas-te de novo no teu mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fartaste-te de ter alguém só por ter ou porque sabe bem simplesmente saber que se tem alguém.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tu... És como eu. Fartaste-te da banalidade com que se usa a palavra amor. E agora já nem sequer a pronuncias a ninguém. Se perdeste o significado dela? Se desacreditas nos que ta disseram ao longo dos tempos? Não sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;O Amor pelo Amor...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Esquece as palavras!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ouve o som das gotas de chuva que suplicam por um olhar teu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sente o calor dos raios de sol que se rasgam intensamente só para sentirem o toque da tua pele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Abre os braços e abraça o vento, porque ele sopra louco na ânsia de te encontrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Faz castelos na areia, mergulha no mar, passeia pelo campo, sente o cheiro das flores... Porque todos mostram o seu esplendor só para ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Esquece tudo, esquece todas as banalidades do dia-a-dia, esquece as conversas de ocasião, esquece os&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; compromissos, as promessas, as desilusões, esquece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ama sem medo, sem receios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu estou farta desta censura. Aborrece-me que todos me digam que devia fazer "assim ou assado", porque lhes custa quando me vêm sofrer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Mas o que é afinal o amor sem sofrimento? Será que ainda acreditam em contos de fadas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu acredito em ti, só em ti se existires e acreditares no que digo não só por dizer. No que sinto sem receio &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;de o continuar a sentir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Umas lágrimas aqui, outras ali. Umas noites sem dormir. O jantar que se esqueceu. O ar pálido de saudade. Tudo em vão, dizem-me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Mas eles não viram, não sentiram o suave toque da tua pele. O teu sorriso brilhava de tantas e tantas formas em cada momento que me olhavas. Não sabem, não sentem a beleza do que me disseste tantas vezes com um simples olhar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Censuram-me, dizem-me que devia ter alguém, que fique sempre, alguém que me dê estabilidade. Mas nunca me perguntaram se era isso que eu queria. Não é. Quero apenas guardar-te comigo. Não como uma caixinha de jóias ou como um objecto qualquer. Quero guardar-te como és.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Perguntam-me se todos os riscos, ou todo o sofrimento é compensado pelos breves momentos em que existimos juntos... Nesta utopia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A minha resposta é um sorriso mudo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Se me perguntares o significado da palavra amor, não to saberei decerto dizer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sei uma coisa, tal como a chuva, o sol, o vento sabem de mim...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;O Amor pelo Amor não se exprime por palavras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcSqI_nz3I/AAAAAAAAC48/rKkmSyRTmM0/s400/Hearts_by_baby_hurricane.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275706003665964914" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);   line-height: 20px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;(E aqui fica este espaço em branco para que saibas que é aqui, nele, que está exprimido o meu amor por ti)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);   line-height: 20px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Post publicado, anteriormente, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/o-amor-pelo-amor-ii.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;aqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/05/o-amor-pelo-amor.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;aqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;E tal como tinha dito &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/s-vezes-de-noite-at-j.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;aqui,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt; este é o penúltimo post&lt;/span&gt;, a última história (e a primeira) antes do fim do blog &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Às Vezes de Noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3981903264105239679?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3981903264105239679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3981903264105239679&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3981903264105239679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3981903264105239679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/12/could-it-be-true-love-story-end-of.html' title='Could it be a true love story? – The end [of the story]'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/STcWOa3IVPI/AAAAAAAAC5U/zRG9B83jil0/s72-c/2665043253_0f212678d2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7213175249161296960</id><published>2008-11-26T18:12:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T18:22:17.418+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story VI – He</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SS2FHgxD_sI/AAAAAAAAC3k/Dj2O3OIsvbw/s1600-h/hot.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273017102822014658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SS2FHgxD_sI/AAAAAAAAC3k/Dj2O3OIsvbw/s400/hot.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt;He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela, quente e húmida, aguardava-o, e aceitou que ele entrasse, ternamente. Sentia que ela estava ultra-excitada, mas ele estava de alguma forma diminuído fisicamente, para além de ainda não conhecer todas as subtilezas do corpo dela, tudo o que poderia excitá-la ou não. Foi por isso cuidadoso, mais reactivo do que pró-activo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela observava-o, e a ele isso agradava – porque não se limitava a observar passivamente. Calmamente, ele ia procurando os desejos, os toques, as formas que a enlouqueceriam. Decidiu-se acima de tudo a dar-lhe prazer. A dança decorria sem pressas, ambos descobrindo-se mutuamente num prazer que não procurava amanhãs nem porquês. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como num sonho em que se acorda a meio porque se tem de ir beber água, ela foi atender o telefone que tocava (pelos vistos, de forma insistente). Mas, tal como tantas vezes desejamos quando o sonho é bom, ela voltou e o sonho retomou-se no ponto onde se tinha interrompido. E assim ela se veio, de forma algo discreta, mas com um sorriso extasiante (e extasiado). E ele sorriu, contente pelo orgasmo dela. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ele queria ficar com ela por mais tempo (horas?), mas tinham de se despedir brevemente. Evitando as despedidas prolongadas, ele reformulou o desejo da visita dela a Barcelona. Queria prová-la mais, queria tê-la e ser dela por mais algum tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Esquiva, ela nada prometeu. E ele, ficou com a única resposta que poderia ouvir naquele momento. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Antes que começasse a pensar se aquele seria o último momento em que estavam juntos, ele vestiu-se e tentou começar a pensar imediatamente no que tinha para fazer em seguida.&lt;br /&gt;Despediram-se com um “até logo” (aliás, dois, um de cada), que de certa forma ajudou-o a não pensar na hipótese daquela ser a derradeira despedida. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já na rua, decidiu-se a pensar principalmente nas coisas que tinha combinadas. Mas sabia que aqueles momentos tinham deixado uma marca indelével. “Será esta a sensação de viver o momento apenas pelo momento, sem misturar passados e futuros?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorriu, mesmo sem estar seguro da resposta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;[Lu Romero]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7213175249161296960?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7213175249161296960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7213175249161296960&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7213175249161296960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7213175249161296960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/11/could-it-be-love-story-vi-he.html' title='Could it be a love story VI – He'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SS2FHgxD_sI/AAAAAAAAC3k/Dj2O3OIsvbw/s72-c/hot.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2172119912066883619</id><published>2008-11-22T17:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T17:18:31.667+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story VI – She</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SSbrAF-1H8I/AAAAAAAAC3M/12fHdKrgIVI/s1600-h/casal.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271158800721977282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SSbrAF-1H8I/AAAAAAAAC3M/12fHdKrgIVI/s400/casal.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixou-o entrar dentro de si. Desejosa de o sentir puxou-o para cima do seu corpo. Pediu-lhe para ser meigo. Não por achar que ele não o seria, mas porque tinha receio que a magoasse sem saber. Ela era demasiado sensível em certas partes do corpo. Estava excitadíssima. Mesmo assim demorou algum tempo para ter coragem de o aceitar. Devagar, foram sentindo a mistura do prazer. O respirar dela, os gemidos de ambos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela sentiu-o entrar carinhosamente. Sentiu milhares de borboletas e abelhas dentro do peito. O cérebro começou a dar voltas em espiral. Era tão maravilhoso senti-lo daquela forma. Trocaram de posição (gostava de o observar bem enquanto se movia). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Provocou-o. Provou-o. Cativou-o. Ele respondeu-lhe enlouquecendo-a. Maravilhando-a.&lt;br /&gt;Num acto de "quero mais" (ou de falta de consciência).... Ele decidiu refazer-lhe o convite para Barcelona. Ela sentiu-se emocionada naquele momento. Disse-lhe que não, e mais tarde quando ele o repetiu, disse-lhe que talvez. Mostrou-se intrigada com essa possibilidade. Não esperava aceitar tal convite. Era perigoso demais fazê-lo. Estava feliz demais com AQUELE momento. Não queria pensar num futuro que talvez não viesse a existir – &lt;em&gt;vive o presente&lt;/em&gt; – pensava... Então continuou no presente e parou de pensar nesse convite. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estiveram num ritual dinâmico e amoroso durante algum tempo. Extasiados nem repararam que o telemóvel dela não parava de tocar. Acordou daquele sonho. Num impulso, chegou à realidade. Era a sua irmã... Tinha combinado estar com ela ao fim da tarde. Também ele estava atrasado para um ensaio com os amigos. Perderam-se um no outro e nas teias que teciam. Desejavam continuar naquele encantamento mas, mais uma vez, o tempo mostrou-se pouco meigo.&lt;br /&gt;Beijaram-se. Fizeram sexo com desejo. Ele levou-a ao clímax de uma forma maravilhosa. Trocaram carícias ternas. Vestiram-se. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os corpos ainda queimavam de prazer. Despediram-se à porta de casa. Ela não quis acompanhá-lo até ao carro (seria criar uma agonia desnecessária). Ele também detestava despedidas. Beijou-a nos lábios e nas faces (ainda quentes).&lt;br /&gt;– Até logo, guapa!&lt;br /&gt;Virou-se para ir embora. Ela (querendo-o mais uma vez) puxou-o pela mão contra o seu corpo e deu-lhe mais um beijo.&lt;br /&gt;– Até logo. – Respondeu-lhe.&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo sabendo que talvez não existisse um mais logo com ele. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foi tudo tão rápido. Tão intenso...&lt;br /&gt;Seguiu em frente com a sua vida. Um jantar com os amigos, uns copos no Bairro Alto. Ficou com um sabor doce nos lábios, um prazer imenso no corpo, um sorriso tolo na cara, que era impossível não se notar.&lt;br /&gt;Ali, naqueles precisos momentos, foi muito feliz!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Olhou para trás e pensou: &lt;em&gt;Quem diria? A felicidade por vezes vem mesmo em busca de nós.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;[Ana Nogs]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2172119912066883619?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2172119912066883619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2172119912066883619&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2172119912066883619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2172119912066883619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/11/could-it-be-love-story-vi-she.html' title='Could it be a love story VI – She'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SSbrAF-1H8I/AAAAAAAAC3M/12fHdKrgIVI/s72-c/casal.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6675170113136557731</id><published>2008-11-17T16:33:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T16:51:34.688+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story V – He</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SSGPB4GxlqI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/g1IMcpMMKrA/s1600-h/2694872181_809dfb422c_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269650301403633314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 179px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SSGPB4GxlqI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/g1IMcpMMKrA/s400/2694872181_809dfb422c_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pic by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Enlaza con la galería de aknacer" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/aknacer/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;aknacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já nus, dirigiram-se para a cama. Ela ia à frente, e a visão traseira do corpo dela deixou-o ainda mais excitado. Gostava de senti-la a tomar a iniciativa.&lt;br /&gt;Ela estava receosa e inibida, e ele também algo nervoso pela emoção da primeira vez, mas decidiu que queria explorar aquele corpo delicioso que se lhe apresentava. Controlou-se para não se centrar nos seus seios – muito a custo, pois a sua forma perfeita, a textura suave e os mamilos saborosos deixavam-no semi-louco – e iniciou uma primeira exploração pelo seu corpo. Com os lábios, roçou-lhe a pele e percorreu-a calmamente, encontrando os seus pontos mais sensíveis. Começou a notar que alguns tremores dela já não eram de nervosismo.&lt;br /&gt;Beijou-lhe um pé; sentiu que ela gostou, mas achou por bem não deixar para já evidenciar a sua tara. A sua língua subiu pelas pernas dela, até encontrar o ponto em que sabia que ela se iria entregar. Aí, sentiu o seu sabor doce pela primeira vez, e fê-la substituir os tremores nervosos por estertores de prazer.&lt;br /&gt;Estava húmida, como que a preparar-se para que ele entrasse nela.&lt;br /&gt;Decidiu assumir o comando das operações, e isso agradou-lhe; ele gostava destas inversões de papéis.&lt;br /&gt;Então foi ela que lhe beijou o peito – que ele receava que não a fosse atrair, em virtude dos pêlos – e chegou ao seu sexo. Depois de alguns momentos de inibição da parte dela, tornou-se mais decidida. Isso excitou-o, e notou que isso também contribuía para a excitação dela.Ela queria que ele entrasse. Dentro dela. Ela esperava-o, ansiosa para que ele entrasse. Ele não se iria fazer rogado a semelhante convite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Lu Romero]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6675170113136557731?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6675170113136557731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6675170113136557731&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6675170113136557731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6675170113136557731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/11/could-it-be-love-story-v-he.html' title='Could it be a love story V – He'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SSGPB4GxlqI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/g1IMcpMMKrA/s72-c/2694872181_809dfb422c_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8531863271790822118</id><published>2008-11-07T13:42:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T13:56:26.845+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story V – She</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SRQ5gRp-MAI/AAAAAAAACqY/Z5VKhVaLUNQ/s1600-h/2694003581_c04d731fb8_m.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265897090960994306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SRQ5gRp-MAI/AAAAAAAACqY/Z5VKhVaLUNQ/s400/2694003581_c04d731fb8_m.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pic by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Link to rosiehardy's photostream" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosie_hardy/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;rosiehardy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;br /&gt;IV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;She&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caminharam nus de mãos dadas. Caíram sobre a cama. Entregaram-se. Foram cedendo à súplica permanente de dois corpos que se desejavam loucamente.&lt;br /&gt;Ele começou a percorrer cada pedaço da sua pele. Os lábios foram descobrindo o sabor, a textura, o calor de cada pedaço mais secreto dela. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beijou-a com lábios de pétalas de rosa. Pareceu-lhe emocionado, encantado com aquele momento (se bem que, também, bastante nervoso). Apesar de muitas vezes se guiar por instintos animalescos (queria o corpo dela, todo na sua essência!)... Demonstrava mais que esse desejo físico, desejava também a alma que o habitava.&lt;br /&gt;Ela estava nervosa (muito trémula). Tinha o corpo quente, sedento dele. No entanto, retraiu-se várias vezes. Sentia o coração explodir de tanto palpitar. Tinha medo de não conseguir devolver-lhe a magia que ele lhe incitava.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ele beijou-lhe os pés e foi desenhando o caminho até à testa dela. Foi alucinando-a, com mãos hesitantes entre atrevidas e meigas. Tocou-lhe também com curiosidade.&lt;br /&gt;Ela tornou-se mais desinibida e trocou carícias de júbilo! Ele fascinou-a pela forma maravilhosa de cativar todos os seus sentidos. Excitou-se com os seus gemidos de prazer, ele punha-a ainda mais louca ao deixar que se notasse, também, o corpo dele a contorcer-se de desejo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beijou-o nos lábios, mostrou-lhe um sorriso maroto de "quero-te" – dentro de mim– e puxou-o.&lt;br /&gt;Percorreu as linhas que marcavam aquele tronco apetecível. Mordiscou-lhe os mamilos e rodeou várias partes com a língua. Foi deslizando, circundando o seu corpo. Mimou o sexo dele, bastante envergonhada, inicialmente. Mas depressa se aventurou a beijá-lo, lambê-lo também.&lt;br /&gt;Trocaram de papéis, várias vezes – dominadora, dominada; dominador, dominado). Era deliciosa aquela sensação.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;[Ana Nogs]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8531863271790822118?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8531863271790822118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8531863271790822118&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8531863271790822118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8531863271790822118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/11/could-it-be-love-story-v-she.html' title='Could it be a love story V – She'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SRQ5gRp-MAI/AAAAAAAACqY/Z5VKhVaLUNQ/s72-c/2694003581_c04d731fb8_m.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5950318352241195745</id><published>2008-10-29T23:34:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T16:52:10.959+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Coud it be a love story? IV – He</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SQjn-Ge0hwI/AAAAAAAACm4/p1Dc7Dw5s7E/s1600-h/2963055435_7cea053836_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262711218660214530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 195px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SQjn-Ge0hwI/AAAAAAAACm4/p1Dc7Dw5s7E/s400/2963055435_7cea053836_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt; &lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Pic &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;a title="Link to rosiehardy's photostream" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(51,102,204); TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosie_hardy/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;rosiehardy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:48;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)" &gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)" &gt;IV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)" &gt;He&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Um almoço familiar – uma boa forma de debelar a ressaca. Expectante, mas não ansioso, pela tarde que se avizinhava, voou para Lisboa no seu Peugeot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ela estava algo nervosa. Ele também, mas tentava dissimular. De certa forma, este encontro deixava-o mais tenso do que o do dia anterior. Pelo menos, um dia antes não tinha nada a perder se o encontro não corresse bem. Desta vez, havia uma magia que se tinha criado e que não sabia se seria igual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Optou pela sua costumeira abordagem: a brincadeira. A melhor forma que conhecia para dissimular nervosismo e insegurança.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Não sabia o que ia acontecer. Receoso de que a ideia dela sobre aquele encontro fosse diferente da dele, optou por ser cauteloso. Mas a verdade é que o desejo o estava a deixar louco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Quando ela lhe disse que se ia descalçar, ele sentiu um arrepio forte na espinha. A sua tara por pés seria descoberta, certamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Os pés dela eram lindos! Egípcios, tal como ele imaginava – tinha desenvolvido esta capacidade de imaginar a forma dos pés a partir das mãos, e ainda se deleitava quando acertava (e ainda mais quando era agradavelmente surpreendido).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ainda meio abananado, ela pediu-lhe para escolher música. Em cheio, é coisa que ele adora fazer (na casa dos outros). O Rodrigo Leão pareceu ser para ela uma boa escolha (“Boa, rapaz, marcaste um ponto!”).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Beijaram-se e ele voltou a sentir aquela magia do dia anterior. Ela demonstrava um desejo intenso, mas logo em seguida parecia retrair-se, receosa. Ao mesmo tempo que isto o baralhava ainda mais, também o espicaçava e lhe dava mais vontade de tocar-lhe e de sentir o seu corpo nu junto ao dele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Num misto de tesão e vergonha, ela entregava-se e tremia com o toque dele em zonas ainda por descobrir, para logo a seguir voltar a cobrir-se com a camisola que ele paulatinamente procurava afastar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Sem conseguir resistir muito mais, tocou-lhe nos pés. Ela estremeceu, mas muito rapidamente se notou que gostava. A ele, claro que o excitava loucamente, mas já não conseguia raciocinar de forma muito clara. Queria-a, ali, naquele momento, já, toda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;A língua dela deixava-o fremente de prazer, de tão suave e quente. A pele dela, arrepiada de prazer, e ao mesmo tempo com um toque acetinado irresistível, pedia-lhe para que lhe tocasse. Obediente, ele procurava desbravar todo aquele território com a plenitude dos seus sentimentos: o sabor dela, o cheiro dela, o toque dela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:small;"&gt;Não ia resistir muito mais. Como se ouvisse os gritos de desejo dele, de que apenas tinha conseguido emitir uma ínfima parte sob a forma de gemidos suaves, ela ajudou-o a despi-la.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153);font-size:85%;"  &gt;[Lu Romero]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102);font-size:78%;"  &gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5950318352241195745?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5950318352241195745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5950318352241195745&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5950318352241195745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5950318352241195745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/10/coud-it-be-love-story-iv-he.html' title='Coud it be a love story? IV – He'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SQjn-Ge0hwI/AAAAAAAACm4/p1Dc7Dw5s7E/s72-c/2963055435_7cea053836_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7462724964297635264</id><published>2008-10-29T12:36:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T12:36:33.465+01:00</updated><title type='text'>MGMT - Love Always Remains</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/PyrfzzUTzFk' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/PyrfzzUTzFk'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7462724964297635264?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7462724964297635264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7462724964297635264&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7462724964297635264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7462724964297635264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/10/mgmt-love-always-remains.html' title='MGMT - Love Always Remains'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8993006201723060719</id><published>2008-10-21T10:16:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T11:40:21.089+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story IV – She</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SP2bThbvSHI/AAAAAAAACg8/76T-6mQC8ZY/s1600-h/2683382999_9cef2d9bd9_m.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259530699533142130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SP2bThbvSHI/AAAAAAAACg8/76T-6mQC8ZY/s400/2683382999_9cef2d9bd9_m.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SP2bFDYZwMI/AAAAAAAACg0/qIa42XrpT-A/s1600-h/2687993206_11c6e3794c_m.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Link to aknacer's photostream" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/aknacer/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;aknacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;IV&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;She&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanheceu aconchegada. Transportava nos lábios o sabor doce do dia anterior. Levantou-se, acordando aos poucos, foi dar um passeio pelas ruas da baixa de Lisboa.&lt;br /&gt;Voltou para casa à hora de almoço. Mas não se lembrou de almoçar. Alimentou-se de mais uns cigarros, água, música e um livro. Esperou-o bastante mais tranquila do que no dia anterior, mas talvez ainda mais ansiosa. Seria tão bom estar de novo com ele.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finalmente encontrou-o; depois de correr a rua Ferreira Borges quase toda. Foi um encontro muito desejado e bastante engraçado da forma como começou. As suas mãos tremiam menos, apesar do seu peito palpitar muito mais. Ele ofereceu-lhe um daqueles sorrisos e perguntou-lhe em tom de brincadeira:&lt;br /&gt;– Estavas à minha procura?&lt;br /&gt;Ela respondeu-lhe, também com um ar travesso:&lt;br /&gt;– Nem por isso, procurava outra pessoa... mas como tu és bem mais interessante... (riu como uma menina caprichosa.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostrou-lhe a casa quando chegaram. Acomodaram-se no sofá. Descalçou-se. Pediu-lhe para escolher a música. Ele escolheu Rodrigo Leão – continuava a surpreendê-la, mais uma vez, pela positiva.&lt;br /&gt;Ele perguntou-lhe algo que lhe parecia estar engasgado na garganta...&lt;br /&gt;– Não tens vergonha de me cobrar assim o primeiro beijo?&lt;br /&gt;Coraram os dois! E ela respondeu que não. Mas, de facto, até tinha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Falaram, beijaram-se, tocaram-se... Começaram a entregar os corpos a um desejo incontornável. Os beijos iam variando de provocantes, extasiantes, estimulantes a doces, carinhosos, envolventes... As carícias iam-se misturando com o prazer, não deixando notar quem mais louco se sentia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dada altura, saltou-lhe para o colo, abraçou-o... Continuaram naquele ritual de entrega, de procura, de encontro. Adorava olhá-lo nos olhos. Sentia-o tão especial. Sentia milhares de sensações naquele místico olhar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ele tocou-lhe nos pés desnudos... Ela sentiu um arrepio que nunca tinha sentido antes. Até aí não gostava particularmente que lhe tocassem nos pés. Como foi possível ele ter descoberto uma forma magnífica e tântrica de lhe proporcionar arrepios de prazer tocando-lhe apenas com as pontas dos dedos?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exploraram os corpos um do outro, calmamente, sem receios. Foram descobrindo as formas que povoavam aquelas roupas que se espalhavam pelo chão. Adorou sentir o toque dos dois corpos, o calor que libertavam. O desejo mútuo que os evadia.&lt;br /&gt;Ele tinha mãos fortes e meigas e lábios deliciosamente preenchidos. Foi-lhe beijando cada parte do corpo conforme as descobria. A forma como a olhava, lhe tocava fez com que ela se sentisse maravilhosa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela também o foi despindo, explorando aquele corpo magnífico num ritual de conhecimento. Adorou o cheiro da sua pele e a sensibilidade que ela mostrava, com o toque suave dos seus movimentos. Parecia pele de veludo, com um toque raro de seda. Eram tão boas as sensações que lhe provocava. Cada momento que viviam juntos era fantástico, extasiante.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Completamente loucos de desejo, já se arqueavam na súplica dos seus corpos. Foi então que ela lhe pegou na mão e o conduziu ao quarto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Ana Nogs]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8993006201723060719?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8993006201723060719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8993006201723060719&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8993006201723060719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8993006201723060719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/10/pic-by-aknacer-dois-olhares-que-se.html' title='Could it be a love story IV – She'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SP2bThbvSHI/AAAAAAAACg8/76T-6mQC8ZY/s72-c/2683382999_9cef2d9bd9_m.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6597748474139644800</id><published>2008-10-09T19:39:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T11:29:22.322+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Coud it be a love story? III – He</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SO5GTDjcgVI/AAAAAAAACTE/INpnkfoOdA4/s1600-h/2330193330_975a3a74d1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255215108373381458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SO5GTDjcgVI/AAAAAAAACTE/INpnkfoOdA4/s400/2330193330_975a3a74d1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt; &lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;Pic&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102);font-family:Arial;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;a title="Link to archangeldeb's photostream" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(51,102,204); TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/archangeldeb/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;archangeldeb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:Arial;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;III&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102);font-family:Arial;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;He&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;As estrelas invejavam o brilho dos seus olhares. Perplexo pela intensidade que tinha acabado de vivenciar, pensou num último copo no Bar do Peixe (que diferença faria chegar meia hora ou duas horas atrasado ao jantar?).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Conduziu com dificuldade; perturbava-lhe a concentração sentir aqueles olhos e aqueles lábios ao seu lado, talvez tão embevecidos como ele se sentia.&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Os olhares, os toques e as conversas cúmplices junto à cerveja preta continuaram a revelar algo que era inesperado, mas deliciosamente bom. Ele deleitava-se com a tranquilidade que emanava agora dela, contrastando com o nervosismo de há algumas horas atrás. Surpreendia-se também consigo próprio, pela calma que sentia e pelo prazer de gozar o momento e apenas isso, sem preocupações e pensamentos no condicional (os típicos “e se…?”).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Já no caminho de Lisboa, o semáforo simpatizou com ele e ofereceu-lhe um vermelho. Pôde assim consolar um pouco mais o seu forte desejo de beijar aquela boca deliciosa. Ela, visivelmente, agradeceu, algo surpreendida.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;E nesse momento pensou em como faria no dia seguinte para conseguir algumas horas com ela.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;[Lu Romero]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102);font-size:78%;" &gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6597748474139644800?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6597748474139644800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6597748474139644800&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6597748474139644800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6597748474139644800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/10/coud-it-be-love-story-iii-he.html' title='Coud it be a love story? III – He'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SO5GTDjcgVI/AAAAAAAACTE/INpnkfoOdA4/s72-c/2330193330_975a3a74d1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8639542182171880637</id><published>2008-09-30T22:10:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T11:16:12.644+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story? III – She</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SOKLC86LNpI/AAAAAAAACEM/OV2bJnbJHYw/s1600-h/2601079429_72d5dac577_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251912998293550738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SOKLC86LNpI/AAAAAAAACEM/OV2bJnbJHYw/s400/2601079429_72d5dac577_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt; &lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;Pic by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102);font-family:Arial;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a title="Link to aknacer's photostream" style="COLOR: rgb(0,99,220); TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/aknacer/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;aknacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:11;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;font-size:large;"&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;font-size:large;"&gt;III&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,153,102);font-family:arial;" &gt;She&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51);font-size:13;" &gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;A noite mostrou-se doce quando chegou. Não sabia se pelo seu sorriso ou se pelo brilho do seu olhar... Estava iluminada pela entrega desejada por dois lábios que se uniram. Foi desenhada pelas linhas que marcavam a junção de dois corpos que se ansiavam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Ele arrancou da praia à qual chamava praia microondas.... Quem se lembraria de colocar esse nome a um local como aquele? Fez uma quase dissertação para lhe explicar o porquê desse nome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Ela sorriu escutando atentamente aquela explicação que quase lhe pareceu ridícula, mas que até fazia bastante sentido. Ele falava com tanta convicção que a fez acreditar que não existiria um nome mais certo para lhe atribuir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;A viagem foi extremamente agradável, foi mais que isso e tanto mais...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Trocavam olhares cúmplices e carícias deliciosas. O olhar dela derretia-se, enquanto ele tentava fixar os olhos na estrada. Era magnífica aquela sensação tranquila de felicidade inesperada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;De quando em quando, ele lançava-lhe aquele olhar penetrante e acariciava-lhe as mãos num tom carinhoso. Ela acariciava-lhe o rosto e o pescoço e dava-lhe leves beijos onde chegava. Teve o tempo necessário para acalmar o seu peito e o observar calmamente. Era lindo, sedutor, maravilhoso e tinha algo único que a atraía profundamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Chegaram. O bar onde a pensava levar estava fechado. Tudo era novo – para ela – naquele espaço em que se envolveram.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Passearam de mãos dadas. Quem os visse partilhar aqueles momentos facilmente os confundiria com um casal apaixonado... Mas a realidade era totalmente diferente. Eram duas pessoas fascinadas com o momento que partilhavam. Não existia um antes nem se preocupavam em pensar num depois (pelo menos para já). Desejavam-se, indiscutivelmente, cada vez mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Ficaste com algo de mim e eu guardei parte de ti – pensou ela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Entraram num restaurante/bar lá perto. Beberam mais uma cerveja – desta vez optaram ambos por preta – enquanto conversavam. O desejo estava patente nos olhos de qualquer um deles. Mas tinham uma tranquilidade que quase parecia estranha. Trocaram carinhos e alguns beijos inocentes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Quando saíram, ela caminhava mais à frente. Num impulso do momento olhou para trás... Queria tanto beijá-lo de novo! Ele brincou com a situação dizendo que não ia fugir. Abraçaram-se de novo. Olharam por segundos a paisagem linda que também a noite lhes tinha oferecido... E o tempo, invejoso de tais momentos, decidiu farpá-los de novo com um toque de realidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Despediram-se por essa noite, com a promessa de um encontro amanhã.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,153,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;[Ana Nogs]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8639542182171880637?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8639542182171880637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8639542182171880637&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8639542182171880637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8639542182171880637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/could-it-be-love-story-iii-she.html' title='Could it be a love story? III – She'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SOKLC86LNpI/AAAAAAAACEM/OV2bJnbJHYw/s72-c/2601079429_72d5dac577_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6922862711614403787</id><published>2008-09-23T00:29:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T15:43:55.377+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Coud it be a love story? II – He</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SNgfxHneehI/AAAAAAAACDM/DVsmeCj5Tu8/s1600-h/by+Firenzesca+[Game+Over].jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248980294418987538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SNgfxHneehI/AAAAAAAACDM/DVsmeCj5Tu8/s400/by+Firenzesca+%5BGame+Over%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;Pic by Firenzesca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51); TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51); TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;II&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51); TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(0,204,204); LINE-HEIGHT: 20px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ele estava louco para tocar-lhe, já desde o almoço, em que o decrescente estado de tensão dela lhe tinha desvelado uma mulher, com uma maturidade e uma sensibilidade absolutamente arrebatadoras. Agora que o momento se concretizava, ele queria que tudo fosse perfeito. E estava a ser: a boca dela que procurava a forma como ele gostava de ser beijado, as línguas que se entendiam como se estivessem apenas à espera de se encostarem para iniciar aquela dança (por vezes frenética, por vezes numa calma busca do prazer do outro). E as mãos dela, tímidas mas voluntariosas, que demonstravam querer explorar o corpo dele, para descobrir outros interruptores para aqueles gemidos de desejo que não conseguia deixar de emitir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51);font-size:13;" &gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;As várias dimensões dela – frágil, sedutora, tímida, dominadora, dominada – projectavam uma imagem multidimensional que o encantava. Tal como ele sempre adorou, permitia-lhe assumir o papel de líder para logo em seguida passar a liderado, num jogo de permanente troca de perfis que só ajudava a tornar aqueles momentos ainda mais especiais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;Sentia um desejo intensíssimo, enriquecido pelo facto de não se turvar com questões sobre quanto tempo iria durar aquela felicidade – era aquele momento que interessava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;Os corpos revelavam aquilo que ambos pretendiam controlar, por esta ou aquela razão. Os arrepios eram consecutivos, à medida que as mãos e os lábios dela descobriam mais uma forma de o enlouquecer de desejo. Ele queria também descobrir tudo nela, e as suas mãos pareciam, instintivamente, saber o que faziam. Os sorrisos, o cheiro, os tremores e os subtis gemidos dela mostravam-lhe alguns dos (preciosos) paraísos que o seu corpo abrigava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(204,204,204)"&gt;Desejava-a intensamente, mas queria descobrir o seu corpo duma forma plena e rica, incompatível com o espaço exíguo de um carro. Por isso, e com uma tranquilidade algo surpreendente – talvez apoiada numa crença forte de que aqueles momentos seriam brevemente retomados –, ele parou e seguiram viagem. Para mais um copo, antes dos compromissos dele nessa noite. Mas iniciaram também uma viagem a dois que estava longe de terminar nesse dia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;color:#339999;"  &gt;[Lu Romero]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,204,255)"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal; COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6922862711614403787?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6922862711614403787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6922862711614403787&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6922862711614403787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6922862711614403787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/coud-it-be-love-story_23.html' title='Coud it be a love story? II – He'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SNgfxHneehI/AAAAAAAACDM/DVsmeCj5Tu8/s72-c/by+Firenzesca+%5BGame+Over%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3118055789985391811</id><published>2008-09-19T22:15:00.014+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T14:01:57.059+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story? II – She</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SRQ77gDUn1I/AAAAAAAACqg/icAmrwNx5Ho/s1600-h/2746182728_ffe9f2c5f7_m.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265899757705142098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 203px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SRQ77gDUn1I/AAAAAAAACqg/icAmrwNx5Ho/s400/2746182728_ffe9f2c5f7_m.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SNUirRZMSyI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/of06lv9TjI8/s1600-h/The_Perfect_Fit_by_caught_cartooning.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0);font-family:Arial;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;II&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,153,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;briram os olhos e descobriram-se de novo. Ela estudava cada milímetro da sua cara, tentando conhecer melhor aquelas expressões. Adorava a expressividade dele! Durante o almoço tinha sorrido várias vezes com as suas facetas engraçadas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Fazia bolas de ar enquanto explicava ou contava algo com entusiasmo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Era extremamente amoroso e, ao mesmo tempo, peculiar. Usava as mãos, os olhos, os lábios, todo o corpo se movia enquanto falava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Achava tão sensual a forma única de se relacionar com ela. Mesmo antes de se beijarem o seu corpo já vibrava e suplicava para ser tocado. Ele tinha razão em relação ao desejo... Queria-o intensamente, verdadeiramente. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Entregou-se.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Quando a noite os envolveu com uma panóplia de estrelas, já estavam rendidos ao desejo que ambos transpiravam. Estava frio. O vento gelava-lhe as faces rosadas de excitação. Era uma sensação que gostava! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Caminharam em direcção ao carro. Desta vez abraçados. Com troca de sorrisos, de olhares penetrantes, de carícias inocentes e até mesmo beijos extasiantes (como também ele os descreveu)... Foi curioso, ela não tinha medo do amanhã. Notou que sentia tudo diferente quando estava com ele. Descobriu, sem saber imediatamente, uma nova forma de felicidade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Felicidade incondicional sem pensar se iria ou não acabar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ele disse-lhe o quanto adorava o seu sorriso. Ela corava constantemente e deixava-se guiar pelas sensações. Era muito tímida, por vezes, outras era descaradamente sedutora. "Que menina louca", devia pensar ele, "parecem duas dentro de uma" (hummm... Um ménage à trois com uma só pessoa).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Já estavam há algum tempo dentro do carro. Completamente envolvidos, libertavam sorrisos ou suspiros de prazer. As palavras eram menos frequentes, mas o silêncio era também cúmplice daquela entrega mútua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Silêncio. Ele era tão, tão fascinante! As expressões do seu olhar eram tão profundas, sinceras. Parecia-lhe extasiado, também ela viajava enquanto ele lhe tocava. Sentia um desejo impetuoso de o ter. Os seus lábios percorreram-lhe as veias até à loucura. Aquele espaço parecia pequeno para tanto desejo, no entanto queria-o mais, mais. Bruscamente, foi ele que saltou do banco do condutor para partilhar aquele onde ela &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;estava. Chamam-lhe o banco/lugar do morto... Mas se existia algo inquestionável isso seriam as&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;vibrações de vida/energia que ali se tocavam. A cumplicidade aumentava. Além das borboletas – será que ele se lembra delas? – que sentia no estômago, agora também palpitava de prazer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Beijou-o de diferentes formas, ritmos e percorreu cada parte do seu rosto com os lábios. Fez-lhe leves carícias. Ao início sem se aventurar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Posteriormente, levada pelo desejo, percorreu o pescoço dele com a língua quente de prazer, num movimento que a levava em direcção a um dos seus lóbulos. Ele demonstrava fisicamente o quanto também ansiava tocá-la e ser tocado em todos os sentidos. Discretamente foi descobrindo a sua pele. Primeiro acariciou-lhe as costas, depois expandiu aos poucos os seus movimentos. Ela mostrou-se mais recatada, de início... Não queria mostrar que desejava tocá-lo intensamente. Mas os corpos já se &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;arqueavam, suplicando por mais. Sentiu um dedo, depois outro...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Acariciando um dos seus seios, mas de uma forma tão leve e subtil que quase parecia um sopro. Foi deliciosa a forma como eles foram descobrindo algumas partes do corpo de cada um. Sem pressa, sem pressões... Mas cobertos de palpitações. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;font-family:Arial;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Hummm... Ele tocou-lhe mais abaixo na linha que envolve a cintura. Ops! Sentiu a mão dele em contacto com o seu fio dental amarelo. Corou. O que terá ele pensado naquele momento? Deixaram fluir as emoções até...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A realidade lhes bater à porta. Tinham que ir. Ele já tinha planos marcados para aquela noite. Ela só queria estar com ele. Pela primeira vez pensou que poderia não o tornar a ver. Pela primeira vez pensou, "foi tão bom pelo que foi" e não pelo que "poderá vir a ser".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,153,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Ana Nogs]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#333333;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3118055789985391811?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3118055789985391811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3118055789985391811&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3118055789985391811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3118055789985391811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/pic-by-cartooning-ii-she-abriram-os.html' title='Could it be a love story? II – She'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SRQ77gDUn1I/AAAAAAAACqg/icAmrwNx5Ho/s72-c/2746182728_ffe9f2c5f7_m.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5554783238561696421</id><published>2008-09-11T23:34:00.015+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T16:55:17.435+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story? I – He</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SOomWxdC2mI/AAAAAAAACRQ/CYvRrFeeO2A/s1600-h/Kaley_and_Mitch___The_Beach_by_achfoo.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254054087955241570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SOomWxdC2mI/AAAAAAAACRQ/CYvRrFeeO2A/s400/Kaley_and_Mitch___The_Beach_by_achfoo.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMvEQqf418I/AAAAAAAAB4Q/odYS_Qyvyn8/s1600-h/aaa.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by achfoo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(0,204,204)"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ele estava nervoso. Mas não tanto como esperaria. Estaria mais insensível? Estaria mais equilibrado? Ou seria pura dopagem?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ela chegou visivelmente nervosa. Muito. Ele decidiu então que teria de ser o contrabalanço, para que o encontro não fosse um foco de ansiedade e não se viesse a saldar numa absoluta frustração. Afinal, o que tinha ele a perder? Bem, para começar, a oportunidade de conhecer alguém que se poderia vir a revelar especial. Depois... bem, quanto ao resto tudo era incerto, pelo que decidiu apostar na continuidade do desafio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Quando viu as mãos (extremamente) trémulas dela, que acendia um cigarro após outro, pensou na regra de ouro para lidar com pessoas nervosas: não dizer "tem calma!".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Os planos do almoço passavam pela sua mente, mas já não com a ansiedade com que há algum tempo antecipava todo e qualquer momento que fosse viver. Aliás, foi com a maior das tranquilidades que alterou o local onde iam almoçar: impetuosamente, decidiu o Meco. O Atlântico e o sol seriam companheiros ideais para este encontro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;O sorriso dela ao ver a praia revelou-lhe que ele tinha feito uma boa escolha. Sentiu-se orgulhoso, para além de um prazer imenso que o invadiu ao ver aquele sorriso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Tinha-o impressionado ver as costas perfeitas dela logo que chegou perto dele e as expôs ao seu olhar perscrutante. Mas o sorriso dela desarmou-o e fê-lo derreter-se um pouco por dentro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Num caminho mais íngreme, ela prontamente aceitou a mão dele para a apoiar. Mais um momento que teria despertado mil e duas sirenes há um tempo atrás na cabeça dele, mas que agora encarou com uma tranquilidade surpreendente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Um almoço partilhado, regado a cerveja (ela com aquela coisa chamada Green… bleargh…) e digerido com a ajuda de uns cigarros — ela continuava a fumar nervosamente, mas a mão estava substancialmente menos trémula.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;– Vamos conhecer outra praia?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ele pensava na praia de Alfarim, num copo no Bar do Peixe. Mas, mais uma vez numa decisão totalmente impetuosa, decidiu ir matar saudades da praia micro-ondas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Só por alguns momentos, pois com aqueles saltos, ela não vai conseguir ir até ao areal”, pensou ele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Surpresa! Foi ela mesmo a tomar a iniciativa, e mais uma vez a aceitar a mão dele que se propunha ajudá-la a superar aquele caminho íngreme.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;O pôr-do-sol começava a desenhar-se no horizonte, belo como só o Meco pode oferecer. Pela cabeça, passaram-lhe as dezenas de ocasos já por ele presenciados naquelas praias. Já tinha acompanhado aquele mesmo sol para além daquela mesma linha do horizonte com lágrimas, com sorrisos, com gargalhadas, com músicas, com silêncios, com solidão, com companhia. Agora, ei-lo de volta ao país que amava, a uma praia que o encantava, com um pôr-do-sol que sempre o fascinou. Mas desta vez, com uma companhia que o surpreendia não só pela pessoa que era, mas também pela pessoa que o fazia ser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A ondulação e a subida da maré quase os obrigou a agarrarem-se para caminharem lado a lado. Não pareceu uma obrigação, mas apenas um corolário para os momentos de magia que aconteceram antes, quando ambos trocavam nada mais que palavras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ele sentiu o chamado “momento da verdade” quando se sentaram nas rochas a apreciar o mar e a despedirem-se do sol desse dia. Queria beijá-la, mas — como sempre — não sabia como fazê-lo. Calou-se, evitando o seu customeiro hábito de dizer coisas estúpidas nestas situações. Ela, inquieta, parecia compreender que os movimentos corporais dele eram de desejo de proximidade do corpo dela. E conscientemente, o seu corpo anuiu ao pedido que ele fazia calado. Um beijo na face esquerda. O arrepio na espinha quase o toldou, mas decidiu responder com um braço em volta dela. E as bocas uniram-se, da forma que se avizinhava já como inevitável.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Os beijos dela eram doces, suaves, e a sua boca acolhia-o como se os lábios e a língua dele fossem já há muito esperados.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;O sol, impassível, deslocava-se para terras mais ocidentais, enquanto eles procuravam o norte de um e de outro, com toques subtis que se misturavam, quase não permitindo ver quais os que agradavam mais a um e a outro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;E aí, mesmo no escuro que tinha ocupado o lugar do sol, ela ofereceu-lhe mais um daqueles sorrisos arrasadores. Ele sorriu também.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;[Lu Romero]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5554783238561696421?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5554783238561696421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5554783238561696421&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5554783238561696421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5554783238561696421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/could-it-be-love-story.html' title='Could it be a love story? I – He'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SOomWxdC2mI/AAAAAAAACRQ/CYvRrFeeO2A/s72-c/Kaley_and_Mitch___The_Beach_by_achfoo.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3279050965246960049</id><published>2008-09-09T20:29:00.017+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T22:43:45.878+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Novembro 2005'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='História escrita a quatro mãos by Ana Nogs (she) e Lu Romero  (he). O início'/><title type='text'>Could it be a love story? I – She</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMbCevgchBI/AAAAAAAAB3w/N9tUAoVP_es/s1600-h/2642815892_728e79f96e.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244092649523938322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMbCevgchBI/AAAAAAAAB3w/N9tUAoVP_es/s400/2642815892_728e79f96e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Pic by aknacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51);font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Dois olhares que se tocaram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,102)"&gt;She&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;la nunca imaginou que seria assim conhecê-lo... Todo ele emanava uma luz forte, intensa, que a embriagava plenamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Observou os seus olhos com curiosidade, pois saltavam deles leves sorrisos de doçura. As suas mãos tremiam de tanto nervosismo, esperava há tanto aquele momento e, no entanto, estivera quase para desistir... (Desistir?!) Sim, desistir. Assaltava-a um medo imenso de não corresponder à imagem que ele pretendia. E ela, será que gostaria de o conhecer melhor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Desconcentrava-a o facto de ele parecer tão descontraído (mais tarde ele também lhe explicou o porquê da sua aparente tranquilidade), quase lhe parecia indiferente à sua presença... Apeteceu-lhe fugir nesse momento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mas seria imensa a humilhação de desistir naquele momento. E, de qualquer forma, sentia-se cada vez mais impregnada pelos seus olhos, pelo desejo de o conhecer melhor. Olhos de fogo, os dele!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Deixou-se levar pelas conversas que se encadeavam umas nas outras e pela curiosidade mútua que sentiam de se conhecerem melhor. Olhava fixamente os seus lábios enquanto ele a fazia sorrir com o que dizia. Mais uma vez se viu ser surpresa pela sua escolha... Às vezes parecia que a conhecia desde sempre. Aquele local... O cheiro do mar que ela tanto adorava, a mistura da humidade com a sua pele, o vento a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;acariciar-lhe o cabelo, a música que o som das ondas do mar libertavam... Que ambiente maravilhoso para o conhecer. Que tarde de sonho! Que loucura!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;As horas passaram sem que se apercebessem disso, olhavam para o mar depois do almoço e mais uns quantos cigarros (ela fumava que nem uma louca, não conseguia controlar a felicidade e/ou ansiedade)... Partiram para uma outra praia e, enquanto o tempo passava, sentia uma vontade cada vez mais crescente de o ter. Desafiou-o para irem ver o mar mais perto, ele sorriu com um ar doce e disse:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; Achas que consegues?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ela corou.. Mas começou imediatamente a andar sobre as pedras em direcção ao mar e disse-lhe: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Se me desequilibrar posso segurar-me a ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Aqueles saltos altos, finos e frágeis não se enquadravam naquele itinerário, mas não foi isso que a fez desistir e ficar para trás. Talvez tenha sido esse o melhor acaso do dia! Sim, foi devido ao seu ar desastrado a andar que teve o primeiro contacto com o seu corpo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Agarrou-lhe a mão com ternura como se o único objectivo fosse não cair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mas a verdade é que adorou o facto de poder ter uma desculpa para se aproximar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Era tão forte, tão mágica a sensação que tinha estando com ele ao seu lado. Olhos nos olhos, perdeu-se no seu olhar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Apressou o passo em direcção ao areal pequeno que se escondia num canto da praia, olhou para as ondas e viajou durante breves instantes. Quando olhou de novo, ele continuava ao seu lado. As ondas aproximavam-se e reduziam a passagem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Correram em direcção às pedras, mas desta vez abraçados em breves momentos. Sentiu todos os seus sentidos em completa confusão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Decidiram sentar-se a contemplar a paisagem magnífica que os rodeava. Ele estava praticamente em silêncio, ela falava nem sabia bem de quê... O olhar perdido dele nesse final de tarde era encantador. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Qualquer sereia que saísse de uma história fantástica, ou rompesse daquele mar imenso, se sentiria atraída pela sua doçura. O feitiço iria inverter-se... Seria ela quem ficaria encantada com a sua voz, os seus gestos, as seus olhos e até pelo seu silêncio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Era impossível resistir a alguém como ele, era impossível resistir-lhe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Aquele pôr-do-sol ficou marcado no seu olhar, os seus olhos brilham cada vez que viaja ao encontro de momentos tão intensos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Tudo nele era fascinante. Perdeu-se ao seu lado contemplando aqueles lábios deliciosos. Pareciam-lhe pedaços de espuma, de morangos, de melancia... Deu-lhe um beijo na face esquerda, a sua pele era aveludada e macia. Queria tanto beijá-lo! Mais e mais... Mas não sabia se devia. Não sabia se ele também o desejava tanto como ela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Percebeu finalmente o porquê do seu silêncio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Pensaram no mesmo. Cruzaram os olhares. Desejavam-se mutuamente em silêncio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Beijou-o ou deixou que a beijasse? Não interessa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Importa sim a magia daquele momento. Momento em que sentira os seus lábios entregarem-se sem medo, cheios de emoção, cobertos de desejo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Coraram os dois (pelo menos por dentro). Sorriram e abraçaram-se, envolveram-se um no outro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Os seus beijos eram magníficos. Nunca eram monótonos nem iguais. Às vezes sabiam a algodão doce, outras a pimenta. Ora eram suaves como uma fita de cetim, ora selvagens como raios fulminantes de sol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Eram tão diferentes, mas faziam uma combinação fantástica enquanto estavam juntos. Beijaram-se até o sol se esconder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Abraçaram-se, misturaram-se mesmo no meio da escuridão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Ana Nogs]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(153,153,153)"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3279050965246960049?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3279050965246960049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3279050965246960049&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3279050965246960049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3279050965246960049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/coud-it-be-love-story.html' title='Could it be a love story? I – She'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SMbCevgchBI/AAAAAAAAB3w/N9tUAoVP_es/s72-c/2642815892_728e79f96e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2310881224550361572</id><published>2008-09-02T00:05:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T00:29:24.463+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Às Vezes de Noite'/><title type='text'>Às Vezes de Noite... Até já...</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SLxnQzry5YI/AAAAAAAAB2o/Vwzkb7v4YIs/s400/19_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241177604801881474" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Às Vezes de Noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;existem sonhos que se tornam reais, lagartas que se transformam em borboletas, imagens que ganham vida e almas que se tocam como que por magia...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;... Da utopia nasceu o sonho, do sonho a ilusão, na ilusão voltou o sonho, do sonho chegou o despertar e depois de mil voltas na cama, outros mil passos num turbilhão, chegou a razão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E ela num canal directo ao coração fez da utopia que foi sonho, do sonho que foi ilusão, da ilusão que foi sonho, do turbilhão que chegou à razão, da razão que deu a mão ao coração... A realidade vinda da ficção.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SLxoF4kFTpI/AAAAAAAAB2w/oqrnNUKtdt8/s400/18_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241178516644777618" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Chegou a hora de me despedir do Às Vezes de Noite, mas não sem antes publicar uma história que esteve no culminar do seu nascimento.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Até já...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;Pics by Amelia Photography&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/35463002-2310881224550361572?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2310881224550361572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2310881224550361572&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2310881224550361572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2310881224550361572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/09/s-vezes-de-noite-at-j.html' title='Às Vezes de Noite... Até já...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SLxnQzry5YI/AAAAAAAAB2o/Vwzkb7v4YIs/s72-c/19_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8577407188075732130</id><published>2008-08-24T19:49:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T19:55:25.731+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>Y...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SLGfYRqNI5I/AAAAAAAABuU/BoTz6In5_sI/s1600-h/y-si-te-como-a-besos.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SLGfYRqNI5I/AAAAAAAABuU/BoTz6In5_sI/s400/y-si-te-como-a-besos.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238143081014698898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Te quiero&lt;div&gt;dentro de mi boca,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;para matar esta hambre&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que tengo de tí.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Te quiero&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;en cada pedazo de mi piel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sentiendo tu sabor en la mía.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Te quiero, cariño mio...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Y te oferezco mi cuerpo,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mi amor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;y mi olor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8577407188075732130?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8577407188075732130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8577407188075732130&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8577407188075732130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8577407188075732130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/08/y.html' title='Y...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SLGfYRqNI5I/AAAAAAAABuU/BoTz6In5_sI/s72-c/y-si-te-como-a-besos.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2919074501456089396</id><published>2008-08-13T15:56:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T16:25:12.414+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Knock, knock...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SKLob5beQOI/AAAAAAAABh0/jr2CYzWMNMc/s1600-h/0e2b63f72f61cd6b62bf8ab74db5c769.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SKLob5beQOI/AAAAAAAABh0/jr2CYzWMNMc/s400/0e2b63f72f61cd6b62bf8ab74db5c769.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234001282928099554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Hello, gorgeous!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Come in,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;i was waiting for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Ouhhh...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;ome, come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Now that you're here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;i can stop dreaming of you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;and start living on...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;You.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2919074501456089396?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2919074501456089396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2919074501456089396&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2919074501456089396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2919074501456089396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/08/trrimm-trrim.html' title='Knock, knock...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SKLob5beQOI/AAAAAAAABh0/jr2CYzWMNMc/s72-c/0e2b63f72f61cd6b62bf8ab74db5c769.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3517683234883189823</id><published>2008-08-01T20:20:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:39.100+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><title type='text'>Please, Mr. Postman...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SJNUgUWbdyI/AAAAAAAABg8/pjsZMyFcUYM/s1600-h/2554097732_1fafa171e9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SJNUgUWbdyI/AAAAAAAABg8/pjsZMyFcUYM/s400/2554097732_1fafa171e9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229616506502608674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Pic by Rosiehardy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could you do me a favour?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;There is somewhere I want to be...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;all I want is to box myself up and ship myself to his front door&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3517683234883189823?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3517683234883189823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3517683234883189823&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3517683234883189823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3517683234883189823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/08/please-mr-postman.html' title='Please, Mr. Postman...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SJNUgUWbdyI/AAAAAAAABg8/pjsZMyFcUYM/s72-c/2554097732_1fafa171e9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-848174894826998163</id><published>2008-07-23T23:38:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:39.384+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tolices'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Conversas'/><title type='text'>Poliglo[idio]tices</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIe0n4XI-lI/AAAAAAAABgc/1ehBO3x_6oE/s1600-h/46274632_e2a0562f04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIe0n4XI-lI/AAAAAAAABgc/1ehBO3x_6oE/s400/46274632_e2a0562f04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226344489824090706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Poliglo: &lt;/span&gt;Olá! Tudo bem por aí?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Idio:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Estou aqui de volta de um naco seco de trigo e uma lasca de &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cerdo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Poliglo: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cerdo&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Idio:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Sim, porco em espanhol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Poliglo:&lt;/span&gt; Eu só sei falar três línguas: português, inglês e alentejano.&lt;br /&gt;                    O resto, para mim, é chinês!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Idio: &lt;/span&gt;Ah! Por acaso pensei que só falavas português, alentejano e &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cunnilinguis&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Poliglo:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;(riso prolongado num tom intelectualóide...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    Ora... Corrigindo: Eu só sei falar quatro línguas.&lt;br /&gt;                    Astutos pensamentos, os teus...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Idio:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Os meus pensamentos são rabiscos tão grandes que descobri que até sei escrever chinês...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Poliglo: &lt;/span&gt;Durante que actos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Idio:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(engraçadinho...)&lt;/span&gt; Que escrevo chinês?&lt;br /&gt;               ... desde qualquer acto banal até ao mais rebuscado. Porquê? Estavas a tentar aprender chinês lendo-me os pensamentos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIe1RHzg6YI/AAAAAAAABgk/9lj-Q6zgYRg/s1600-h/169710548_c4fe9320be.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIe1RHzg6YI/AAAAAAAABgk/9lj-Q6zgYRg/s400/169710548_c4fe9320be.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226345198344268162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Texto adaptado de messanginzices&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-848174894826998163?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/848174894826998163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=848174894826998163&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/848174894826998163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/848174894826998163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/07/poligloidiotices.html' title='Poliglo[idio]tices'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIe0n4XI-lI/AAAAAAAABgc/1ehBO3x_6oE/s72-c/46274632_e2a0562f04.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7043305290409967059</id><published>2008-07-20T04:49:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:39.966+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Nightmares</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKoiYOphzI/AAAAAAAABeQ/ou6ID5-vmzo/s1600-h/60_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKoiYOphzI/AAAAAAAABeQ/ou6ID5-vmzo/s400/60_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224923826276108082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Nightmares&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;in my head...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKoVTW7yVI/AAAAAAAABeI/-FOUi97j5W4/s1600-h/12_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKoVTW7yVI/AAAAAAAABeI/-FOUi97j5W4/s400/12_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224923601630382418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;... in my bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please... Help me to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKn6SvPkvI/AAAAAAAABd4/H04dc3UMJM8/s1600-h/Esclava+desnudez+%28efraims%29.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKn6SvPkvI/AAAAAAAABd4/H04dc3UMJM8/s400/Esclava+desnudez+%28efraims%29.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224923137607439090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Set me free&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;Pic 1, 2,  by AmeliaPhotography&lt;br /&gt;Pic 3 autor desconhecido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7043305290409967059?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7043305290409967059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7043305290409967059&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7043305290409967059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7043305290409967059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/07/nightmares.html' title='Nightmares'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SIKoiYOphzI/AAAAAAAABeQ/ou6ID5-vmzo/s72-c/60_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-169394106313843145</id><published>2008-07-18T14:15:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:40.197+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Músicas e letras'/><title type='text'>Dance me to the end of love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SICGZXm19mI/AAAAAAAABdI/xZLczTyURpw/s1600-h/gravity_part_2d_by_mehmeturgut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224323338141562466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SICGZXm19mI/AAAAAAAABdI/xZLczTyURpw/s400/gravity_part_2d_by_mehmeturgut.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by mehmeturgut&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Amor em tempos de cólera"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Como la vida cambia...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post original &lt;a href="http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/02/dance-me-to-end-of-love.html"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ontem esta magnífica mulher, Madeleine Peyroux, cantou em Lisboa. E, apesar de presencialmente eu não estar, esteve lá a minha alma e o meu sorriso no momento em que alguém especial me dedicou esta música.&lt;br /&gt;Por isso este e o post anterior são dedicados a ti, Paulinha! E à Madeleine, claro!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-169394106313843145?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/169394106313843145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=169394106313843145&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/169394106313843145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/169394106313843145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/07/dance-me-to-end-of-love.html' title='Dance me to the end of love'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SICGZXm19mI/AAAAAAAABdI/xZLczTyURpw/s72-c/gravity_part_2d_by_mehmeturgut.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1138289434246132575</id><published>2008-07-16T10:05:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T10:05:45.070+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits - You're Innocent When You Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/VMc0ok9_V7Q' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/VMc0ok9_V7Q'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"The bats are in the belfry&lt;br /&gt;the dew is on the moor&lt;br /&gt;where are the arms that held me&lt;br /&gt;and pledged her love before&lt;br /&gt;and pledged her love before&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's such a sad old feeling&lt;br /&gt;the fields are soft and green&lt;br /&gt;it's memories that I'm stealing&lt;br /&gt;but you're innocent when you dream&lt;br /&gt;when you dream&lt;br /&gt;you're innocent when you dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running through the graveyard&lt;br /&gt;we laughed my friends and I&lt;br /&gt;we swore we'd be together&lt;br /&gt;until the day we died&lt;br /&gt;until the day we died&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a golden promise&lt;br /&gt;that we would never part&lt;br /&gt;I gave my love a locket&lt;br /&gt;and then I broke her heart&lt;br /&gt;and then I broke her heart..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1138289434246132575?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1138289434246132575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1138289434246132575&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1138289434246132575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1138289434246132575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/07/tom-waits-you-innocent-when-you-dream.html' title='Tom Waits - You&amp;#39;re Innocent When You Dream'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1312147948408085609</id><published>2008-07-16T09:27:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:40.414+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Concertos'/><title type='text'>Tom Waits em Barcelona</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SH2nANYxf7I/AAAAAAAABcA/sZy-T5Va4u4/s1600-h/twgadt.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223514764855050162" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SH2nANYxf7I/AAAAAAAABcA/sZy-T5Va4u4/s400/twgadt.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O homem &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;rouco&lt;/span&gt; capaz de &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;hipnotizar&lt;/span&gt; uma plateia imensa com a sua &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;energia&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;magia&lt;/span&gt;, composições &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;geniais&lt;/span&gt;. O homem com &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;chapéu&lt;/span&gt; de côco, o &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sorriso&lt;/span&gt; pintado no corpo, a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sensibilidade&lt;/span&gt; marcada na &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;alma&lt;/span&gt; e a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;genialidade&lt;/span&gt; desenhada nos seus &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;movimentos&lt;/span&gt; e &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sons&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223515014767812370" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SH2nOwYnnxI/AAAAAAAABcI/lU-bx3OYwjQ/s400/2622275703_1e9acb2b85.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O compositor e intérprete norte-americano&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Tom Waits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; actuou ontem e anteontem pela primeira vez em Barcelona, na sua tournée europeia&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt; “&lt;strong&gt;Glitter and Doom&lt;/strong&gt;”&lt;/span&gt; que se iniciou na passada sexta-feira em San Sebastián. Tendo sido esse, o primeiro &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;concerto&lt;/span&gt; que o californiano deu em território espanhol nos seus 35 anos de carreira musical.&lt;br /&gt;Desta forma, estas datas marcaram a sua estreia na Espanha de um dos artistas mais esperados ao longo de décadas! Uma figura de culto que além de muita magia oferece também recitais geniais e &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;momentos&lt;/span&gt; de &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;riso intenso&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Nesta digressão Waits actuou e actuará com Larry Taylor no baixo, Omar Torrez na guitarra, Patrick Warren nos teclados, Casey Waits na batería y percussões e Vincent Henry no saxofone, armónica e guitarra.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O itinerário desta breve digressão europeia corresponde apenas a sete cidades e onze espectáculos. Depois de Barcelona e San Sebastián, Tom Waits e a sua banda de cinco músicos actuarão em Milão, Praga, Paris, Edimburgo e Dublin. É uma tournée em que o artista não apresentou nenhum disco novo, e cujo repertório ainda é desconhecido. Depois da europa seguirá nos Estados Unidos a 17 de Junho em Phoenix, Arizona.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Amazing&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;amazing&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;amazing&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sem dúvida um dos concertos da minha vida:)&lt;/span&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/35463002-1312147948408085609?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1312147948408085609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1312147948408085609&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1312147948408085609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1312147948408085609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/07/tom-waits-em-barcelona.html' title='Tom Waits em Barcelona'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SH2nANYxf7I/AAAAAAAABcA/sZy-T5Va4u4/s72-c/twgadt.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7850745518406899810</id><published>2008-07-03T18:16:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:40.841+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>O (meu) Verbo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGz-RGNhDcI/AAAAAAAABaQ/oZ8BhCguZ9g/s1600-h/Pic+by+Lo+M.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGz9DuzyyPI/AAAAAAAABaI/R3mbju3fWFQ/s1600-h/retirado+daqui+httpimg.olhares.comdatabig1401405495.jpg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218824308762265842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGz9DuzyyPI/AAAAAAAABaI/R3mbju3fWFQ/s400/retirado+daqui+httpimg.olhares.comdatabig1401405495.jpg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Pic retirada &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/retirado%20daqui%20httpimg.olhares.comdatabig1401405495.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;daqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu sabes.&lt;br /&gt;Sabes-me de cor,&lt;br /&gt;mesmo a cada dia&lt;br /&gt;em que me descobres.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu sabes-me.&lt;br /&gt;Sabes que o verbo amar&lt;br /&gt;é indelével em mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218826233596850114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGz-zxYHr8I/AAAAAAAABaY/gdIV2gPdWd4/s400/I_give_up_by_Tedua.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by Tedua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7850745518406899810?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7850745518406899810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7850745518406899810&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7850745518406899810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7850745518406899810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/07/o-meu-verbo.html' title='O (meu) Verbo'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGz9DuzyyPI/AAAAAAAABaI/R3mbju3fWFQ/s72-c/retirado+daqui+httpimg.olhares.comdatabig1401405495.jpg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2737304812241715689</id><published>2008-06-27T15:00:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:41.057+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Before and After (you)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGJdzqbzOYI/AAAAAAAABWA/PoctRycCOtw/s1600-h/byrosiehardy.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215834460594059650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGJdzqbzOYI/AAAAAAAABWA/PoctRycCOtw/s400/byrosiehardy.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Pic by&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosie_hardy/"&gt;rosiehardy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Before &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt;e haven't meet,&lt;br /&gt;I had to &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;hug&lt;/span&gt; myself three times as &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;hard&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Now&lt;/span&gt;, Since we meet, i &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to feel you kissing me. I need &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; feel you holding me, i need to &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; your touch...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I need to feel &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; loving me &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2737304812241715689?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2737304812241715689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2737304812241715689&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2737304812241715689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2737304812241715689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/before-and-after-you.html' title='Before and After (you)'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGJdzqbzOYI/AAAAAAAABWA/PoctRycCOtw/s72-c/byrosiehardy.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1900509402243892098</id><published>2008-06-24T01:42:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:41.708+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Softly touch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGOpPEIDW1I/AAAAAAAABXQ/46Rghl9h4Rs/s1600-h/Big+butterfly+by+aknacer.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216198869695814482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGOpPEIDW1I/AAAAAAAABXQ/46Rghl9h4Rs/s400/Big+butterfly+by+aknacer.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGJmhYxNXNI/AAAAAAAABWI/PbYYmwjpGYE/s1600-h/by+stephaniedan.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pic by&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;aknacer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Já vive em carrocéis,&lt;br /&gt;voei como um beija-flôr,&lt;br /&gt;tropecei e andei desacertada&lt;br /&gt;como uma boneca enferrujada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Já te vivi, já te quase morri...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas o teu cheiro está em mim,&lt;br /&gt;da minha pele brotas tu&lt;br /&gt;again and again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;E nela continuas a fazer magia,&lt;br /&gt;e em mim continuas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;a viver e ressuscitar.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E é de ti que continuo borboletar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;pois continuas a fazer-me sentir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;as borboletas a voar... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102); TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215229442741579970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGA3i_TFMMI/AAAAAAAABU0/v17uzr0WjMU/s400/Softly_touch_by_greenthought.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by greenthought&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1900509402243892098?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1900509402243892098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1900509402243892098&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1900509402243892098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1900509402243892098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/softly-touch.html' title='Softly touch'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SGOpPEIDW1I/AAAAAAAABXQ/46Rghl9h4Rs/s72-c/Big+butterfly+by+aknacer.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5419913189611394317</id><published>2008-06-20T22:19:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:41.869+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Smile'/><title type='text'>Birum</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFwROip2MXI/AAAAAAAABUY/5XeKx_S3kOg/s1600-h/8542b0af5015af87b1a3150a1b14d10e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFwROip2MXI/AAAAAAAABUY/5XeKx_S3kOg/s400/8542b0af5015af87b1a3150a1b14d10e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214061410106356082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bi bop bum,&lt;br /&gt;txi, ka pum,&lt;br /&gt;l mu rai y rarum&lt;br /&gt;kaboi yu&lt;br /&gt;sum?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Can I make you smile?&lt;/span&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/35463002-5419913189611394317?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5419913189611394317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5419913189611394317&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5419913189611394317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5419913189611394317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/can-i-make-you-smile.html' title='Birum'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFwROip2MXI/AAAAAAAABUY/5XeKx_S3kOg/s72-c/8542b0af5015af87b1a3150a1b14d10e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4722414733811410669</id><published>2008-06-18T11:44:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:42.759+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amizade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Anjos perdidos/ Anjos encontrados</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFjZESZiyjI/AAAAAAAABSI/vhu3u5CLG58/s1600-h/32c13d2e7ae2fbd85edf90c0b0b01e1c.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213155236363029042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFjZESZiyjI/AAAAAAAABSI/vhu3u5CLG58/s400/32c13d2e7ae2fbd85edf90c0b0b01e1c.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um dia disseram-me que existiam &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;anjos perdidos&lt;/span&gt; pelas ruas, pelos céus, nas ondas do mar, no sopro do vento, nos raios de sol, na essência de um momento...&lt;br /&gt;Encontrar um desses &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;anjos&lt;/span&gt; é melhor que encontrar a Rota para o Cabo da Boa &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Esperança&lt;/span&gt;, pois basta uma palavra, um gesto de um deles para nos reanimarem e devolverem à vida.&lt;br /&gt;No meu &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;coração &lt;/span&gt;eu tenho um baú aberto de&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; sorrisos&lt;/span&gt; onde guardo uma das maiores &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;relíquias&lt;/span&gt; que se poderá ter,  &lt;a href="http://gritoclaro.blogspot.com/"&gt;um anjo assim&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4722414733811410669?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4722414733811410669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4722414733811410669&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4722414733811410669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4722414733811410669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/anjos-perdidos-anjos-encontrados.html' title='Anjos perdidos/ Anjos encontrados'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFjZESZiyjI/AAAAAAAABSI/vhu3u5CLG58/s72-c/32c13d2e7ae2fbd85edf90c0b0b01e1c.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3282258008052819019</id><published>2008-06-16T18:44:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:42.877+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desabafos'/><title type='text'>Forbidden</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFagkeo_ERI/AAAAAAAABR4/LbOZbPbTHU0/s1600-h/Last_Goodbye_by_BlackLillyFlower.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212530167288631570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFagkeo_ERI/AAAAAAAABR4/LbOZbPbTHU0/s400/Last_Goodbye_by_BlackLillyFlower.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by BlackLillyFlower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Devia ser&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;proibido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;amar&lt;/span&gt; tanto!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Ser&lt;/span&gt; poeta, romântico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;ou lunático!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;dar &lt;/span&gt;importância a mais&lt;br /&gt;a coisas que, para outros,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;não têm a mínima importância... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3282258008052819019?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3282258008052819019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3282258008052819019&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3282258008052819019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3282258008052819019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/end-of-self-abuse.html' title='Forbidden'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFagkeo_ERI/AAAAAAAABR4/LbOZbPbTHU0/s72-c/Last_Goodbye_by_BlackLillyFlower.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3630005868899966644</id><published>2008-06-13T16:58:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:43.187+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dias'/><title type='text'>Sexta-feira 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFKNgga-QPI/AAAAAAAABQo/JjmBzESKKnc/s1600-h/by+Twi.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211383308419481842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFKNgga-QPI/AAAAAAAABQo/JjmBzESKKnc/s400/by+Twi.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by Twi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Uma &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sexta Feira 13&lt;/span&gt; ou seja, uma Sexta-feira no dia&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; 13&lt;/span&gt; de qualquer mês é considerada popularmente como um dia de azar.&lt;br /&gt;Esta superstição pode ter tido origem no dia &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;13&lt;/span&gt; de Outubro de 1307, sexta-feira, quando a Ordem dos Templários foi declarada ilegal pelo rei Filipe IV de França; os seus membros foram presos simultaneamente em todo o país e alguns torturados e, mais tarde, executados por heresia.&lt;br /&gt;Outra possibilidade para esta crença está no fato de que Jesus Cristo provavelmente foi morto numa &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sexta-feira 13,&lt;/span&gt; uma vez que a Páscoa judaica é celebrada no dia 14 do mês de Nissan, no calendário hebraico.&lt;br /&gt;Recorde-se ainda que na Santa Ceia sentaram-se à mesa &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;treze&lt;/span&gt; pessoas, sendo que duas delas, Jesus e Judas Iscariotes, morreram em seguida, por mortes trágicas, Jesus por execução na cruz e Judas provavelmente por suicídio.&lt;br /&gt;Antes disso, porém, existem versões que provêm de duas lendas da mitologia nórdica. Na primeira delas, conta-se que houve um banquete e 12 deuses foram convidados. Loki, espírito do mal e da discórdia, apareceu sem ser chamado e armou uma briga que terminou com a morte de Balder, o favorito dos deuses. Daí veio a crendice de que convidar &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;treze&lt;/span&gt; pessoas para um jantar era desgraça na certa.&lt;br /&gt;Segundo &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;outra história&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;a deusa do amor e da beleza era Friga (que deu origem a frigadag, sexta-feira). Quando as tribos nórdicas e alemãs se converteram ao cristianismo, Friga foi transformada em bruxa. Como vingança, ela passou a se reunir todas as sextas com outras 11 bruxas e o demónio. Os &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;treze&lt;/span&gt; ficavam rogando pragas aos humanos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Retirado da &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexta_Feira_13"&gt;Wikipédia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211385424824318290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFKPbspNOVI/AAAAAAAABQw/1GlwPHDgXiY/s400/Fata_by_alix05.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by alix05&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E vocês?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Que sentem em relação&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;às&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sextas-feiras 13?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3630005868899966644?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3630005868899966644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3630005868899966644&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3630005868899966644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3630005868899966644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/sexta-feira-13.html' title='Sexta-feira 13'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFKNgga-QPI/AAAAAAAABQo/JjmBzESKKnc/s72-c/by+Twi.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-534281510092739113</id><published>2008-06-12T14:05:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:43.378+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Músicas e letras'/><title type='text'>Ilusão</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFERJtdOEVI/AAAAAAAABP4/EQhlajuSJCA/s1600-h/45_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210965102363021650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFERJtdOEVI/AAAAAAAABP4/EQhlajuSJCA/s400/45_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by AmeliaPhotography&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Desde o primeiro dia em que te vi&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu te segui com o olhar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fui atrás dos seus passos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do seu rastro no ar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vasculhar seu amor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No que eu pudesse achar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nas cartas pelo chão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Retratos no mural&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pedaços de canções pra mim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Desde o primeiro dia em que te vi&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu conheci o amor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mais real, mais bonito&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que eu podia inventar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Como um cais pra nós dois&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sabia até cantar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;As frases que depois&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Você iria usar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os beijos que eu não posso mais&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Viver sem encontrar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sem te contar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No tempo que eu levei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pra te achar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hoje acordei com frio&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hoje, meu amor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O quarto está vazio&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Desde o primeiro dia em que te vi&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu te perdi sem saber&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Te esqueci escondido&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Congelado em mim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Flor no vaso a morrer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas eu não vou chorar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu busco o eterno sim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Até onde não há&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No ar o nosso amor em vão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que eu amo até o fim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Até virar a nota da canção&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ilusão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Letra "Desde o Primeiro dia" - Maria Rita&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-534281510092739113?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/534281510092739113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=534281510092739113&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/534281510092739113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/534281510092739113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/iluso.html' title='Ilusão'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SFERJtdOEVI/AAAAAAAABP4/EQhlajuSJCA/s72-c/45_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6710120885473417508</id><published>2008-06-05T18:22:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:43.844+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Two Worlds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEgVeUD6yzI/AAAAAAAABOo/dDFz4_PZ3y0/s1600-h/The_Spring_Is_Peeking_by_FurtiveLungs.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208436579579382578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEgVeUD6yzI/AAAAAAAABOo/dDFz4_PZ3y0/s400/The_Spring_Is_Peeking_by_FurtiveLungs.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I've got the&lt;/span&gt; best&lt;/span&gt; of both &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;worlds&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I can &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;take down&lt;/span&gt; a man,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;lift him back&lt;/span&gt; up again.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am&lt;/span&gt; strong&lt;/span&gt; but &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'm &lt;/span&gt;needy&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Humble&lt;/span&gt; but I'm &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;greedy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;style&lt;/span&gt; is quite &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;selective&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though my &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;mind&lt;/span&gt; is rather&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; reckless&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My comebacks are quick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And probably have to do with my insecurities.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;no shame&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; in being&lt;/span&gt; crazy&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Cause &lt;/span&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;a&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; beautiful&lt;/span&gt; mess&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208438866175415298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEgXjaS5VAI/AAAAAAAABOw/zuzz1Tu6fKE/s400/Anni_The_Unhappy_Egg_by_FurtiveLungs.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pics by FurtiveLungs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6710120885473417508?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6710120885473417508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6710120885473417508&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6710120885473417508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6710120885473417508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/two-worlds.html' title='Two Worlds'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEgVeUD6yzI/AAAAAAAABOo/dDFz4_PZ3y0/s72-c/The_Spring_Is_Peeking_by_FurtiveLungs.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5550363169308293270</id><published>2008-06-02T23:52:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:44.686+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Concertos'/><title type='text'>Yeah, babe!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3pIqcp0I/AAAAAAAABN4/VuJzDhSgvPs/s1600-h/Tom_Waits.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207700092707710786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3pIqcp0I/AAAAAAAABN4/VuJzDhSgvPs/s320/Tom_Waits.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3d9qMl4I/AAAAAAAABNw/GN3Z1NVsAQo/s1600-h/Tom_Waits.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207699900775307138" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3d9qMl4I/AAAAAAAABNw/GN3Z1NVsAQo/s320/Tom_Waits.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3ED8geaI/AAAAAAAABNo/IJxX4i9smxM/s1600-h/172611__tom_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207699455786121634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3ED8geaI/AAAAAAAABNo/IJxX4i9smxM/s320/172611__tom_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;I'm in!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEZqlbJ6WzI/AAAAAAAABOA/b_TEZvM3_NQ/s1600-h/le3038f43d15f78187411c1bs4.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207967210277591858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEZqlbJ6WzI/AAAAAAAABOA/b_TEZvM3_NQ/s320/le3038f43d15f78187411c1bs4.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Concerto de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2008/05/tom-waits-extends-tour-for-more-glitter-and-doom.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Tom Waits em Barcelona&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5550363169308293270?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5550363169308293270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5550363169308293270&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5550363169308293270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5550363169308293270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/06/yeah-babe.html' title='Yeah, babe!'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SEV3pIqcp0I/AAAAAAAABN4/VuJzDhSgvPs/s72-c/Tom_Waits.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5941912295894263715</id><published>2008-05-28T09:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:44.748+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='de Outros'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Citações'/><title type='text'>Photograph</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SD0Mwfh1ZUI/AAAAAAAABJ0/yxkwwMEYYa0/s1600-h/2519849031_8119d600f9.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205330771546826050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SD0Mwfh1ZUI/AAAAAAAABJ0/yxkwwMEYYa0/s320/2519849031_8119d600f9.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Quote by W. Eugene Smith, pic retirada &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hsphoto/2519849031/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;daqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5941912295894263715?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5941912295894263715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5941912295894263715&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5941912295894263715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5941912295894263715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/photograph.html' title='Photograph'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SD0Mwfh1ZUI/AAAAAAAABJ0/yxkwwMEYYa0/s72-c/2519849031_8119d600f9.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1706255754715369138</id><published>2008-05-20T12:32:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:45.072+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>in the Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SDK31pWZ3aI/AAAAAAAABIc/nZZ4j32sucA/s1600-h/42_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202422651827117474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SDK31pWZ3aI/AAAAAAAABIc/nZZ4j32sucA/s320/42_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt; Pic by AmeliaPhotography&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SDK2_pWZ3ZI/AAAAAAAABIU/cSrKR8EYHpc/s1600-h/4575065-md.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Viajava no seu mundo idílico composto por libelinhas azuis e gatos voadores lhe emprestavam o seu ronronar. O seu leito era na Lua, sempre com o &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;coração a flutuar&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Tocava nos seus botões de tulipas brancas enquanto tentava guardar no seu peito tudo o que sentia. Sentia-se repleta de sentimentos de amor. Do peito brotavam flores com perfumes encantados, mãos que tocavam tambores pequeninos e estrelas &lt;em&gt;doiradas &lt;/em&gt;e brilhantes. Saltitavam como rãs, como um capricho inocente de uma criança e&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; o verbo amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;, de sobrenome tagarela, trazia nos pés uma mola provocando espirais na montanha russa de que era revestido o seu coração.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Comi demais"– pensava. É gula a mais deliciar-me com tantos sentimentos e repetir, repetir esses pratos vezes sem fim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Pensa-se que ela viva no Planeta Romântico, onde os violinos tocam melodias mais belas e o saxofone dela escreve nas notas os beijos que ela lhe deu. Os lábios de cerejas, maduros como morangos em Agosto, num campo silvestre de amoras, abandonado num fim de tarde qualquer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E, debaixo de uma manta escura e pintada por estrelas cintilantes descobre que o algodão doce do seu corpo é a melhor almofada que algum dia sonhara.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Em mais uma noite escura lá estava eu, deitada sob a vigília carinhosa do seu olhar...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E, sabes...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sabes o que faço enquanto durmo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sonho-te.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E, sabes...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;É por isso que sorrio tanto enquanto durmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1706255754715369138?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1706255754715369138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1706255754715369138&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1706255754715369138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1706255754715369138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html' title='in the Night'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SDK31pWZ3aI/AAAAAAAABIc/nZZ4j32sucA/s72-c/42_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2994493117809948601</id><published>2008-05-12T18:07:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:45.358+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='de Outros'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>Verbalizo-te</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SC1hCZWZ3OI/AAAAAAAABG8/DQrdIFrHV6w/s1600-h/533cfcdbf516a8fc.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200919838475279586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SC1hCZWZ3OI/AAAAAAAABG8/DQrdIFrHV6w/s320/533cfcdbf516a8fc.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic retirada do google&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escrevo-te&lt;br /&gt;com meus lábios&lt;br /&gt;pintando-te o corpo&lt;br /&gt;com a minha saliva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canto-te, que te amo...&lt;br /&gt;ao ouvido, no teclado,&lt;br /&gt;no quotidiano fotocopiado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visto as minhas palavras&lt;br /&gt;dos teus sorrisos&lt;br /&gt;e da tua voz emocionada&lt;br /&gt;com que me dizes "amo-te".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, com essas palavras,&lt;br /&gt;que se exaltam do peito,&lt;br /&gt;sorrimos e somos felizes. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;E quando nos faltarem as palavras&lt;br /&gt;Lê-me nos olhos o quanto te amo,&lt;br /&gt;também em silêncio.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nada é mais perigoso que o silêncio&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Um amor feliz precisa do turbilhão das palavras, das frases aparentemente inúteis e sem sentido, precisa de adjectivos, de elogios, do ruído das banalidades. ”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;frase retirada deste paraíso &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://cleopatramoon.blogspot.com/2008/05/um-amor-feliz-precisa-do-turbilho-das.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;aqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2994493117809948601?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2994493117809948601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2994493117809948601&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2994493117809948601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2994493117809948601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/nada-mais-perigoso-que-o-silncio.html' title='Verbalizo-te'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SC1hCZWZ3OI/AAAAAAAABG8/DQrdIFrHV6w/s72-c/533cfcdbf516a8fc.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4352597152462355752</id><published>2008-05-09T11:02:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:45.781+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Equilíbrio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCQUJSfqhDI/AAAAAAAABF0/_8pWhzXq408/s1600-h/Patrick_and_Ana___couple_pose1_by_josemanchado.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198302019708421170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCQUJSfqhDI/AAAAAAAABF0/_8pWhzXq408/s320/Patrick_and_Ana___couple_pose1_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by josemanchado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://anabelasky.blogspot.com/2008/05/pleased-to-meet-you.html"&gt;Tudo começou naquele início de tarde&lt;/a&gt; à beira-mar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E chegámos &lt;a href="http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/o-amor-pelo-amor-ii.html"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Aqui, exactamente a este ponto em que &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;tu és a minha força&lt;/span&gt; e &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;eu o teu ponto de equilíbrio.&lt;/span&gt; Em que somos a certeza um do outro e a parte que nos faltava antes de o sermos. Em que nada mais importa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Nada importa, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;nada supera&lt;/span&gt; a magia d&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;nosso amor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Tu és o meu relógio,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;eu sou os teus ponteiros&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;e o nosso amor é a força que nos faz funcionar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4352597152462355752?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4352597152462355752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4352597152462355752&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4352597152462355752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4352597152462355752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/equilbrio.html' title='Equilíbrio'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCQUJSfqhDI/AAAAAAAABF0/_8pWhzXq408/s72-c/Patrick_and_Ana___couple_pose1_by_josemanchado.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5096738200017813060</id><published>2008-05-06T18:11:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T18:11:36.548+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone Gone Gone (Done Moved On)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/eYZhjLrSbUw' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/eYZhjLrSbUw'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some sunny day, hey baby&lt;br /&gt;When everything seems okay, baby&lt;br /&gt;You’ll wake up and find out you’re alone&lt;br /&gt;Cause I’ll be gone&lt;br /&gt;Gone, gone, gone&lt;br /&gt;really gone&lt;br /&gt;Gone, go-gone,&lt;br /&gt;‘cause you done me wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone that you meet baby&lt;br /&gt;As you walk down the street baby&lt;br /&gt;Will ask you why you’re walking all alone&lt;br /&gt;Why you’re on your own&lt;br /&gt;Just say I’m gone&lt;br /&gt;Gone, gone, gone&lt;br /&gt;Gone, go-gone,&lt;br /&gt;‘cause you done me wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you change your way baby&lt;br /&gt;You might get me to stay baby&lt;br /&gt;You better hurry up&lt;br /&gt;if you don’t wanna be alone&lt;br /&gt;Or I’ll be gone&lt;br /&gt;Gone, gone, gone&lt;br /&gt;Really gone&lt;br /&gt;Gone, Go-gone&lt;br /&gt;’cause you done me wrong…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5096738200017813060?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5096738200017813060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5096738200017813060&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5096738200017813060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5096738200017813060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/gone-gone-gone-done-moved-on_06.html' title='Gone Gone Gone (Done Moved On)'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4723938459686115388</id><published>2008-05-05T12:00:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:46.296+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sentimentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>O Amor pelo Amor II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCRneCfqhGI/AAAAAAAABGM/WmuHSaxlbjQ/s1600-h/Hearts_by_baby_hurricane.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198393635655812194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCRneCfqhGI/AAAAAAAABGM/WmuHSaxlbjQ/s320/Hearts_by_baby_hurricane.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by baby hurricane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;... Coming soon;) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;True Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCQsKifqhEI/AAAAAAAABF8/0i01cT-GoxY/s1600-h/true_love_by_xlevax.jpeg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ccffff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198328429462324290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCQsKifqhEI/AAAAAAAABF8/0i01cT-GoxY/s320/true_love_by_xlevax.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pic by xlevax&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Como seguimento de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/05/o-amor-pelo-amor.html"&gt;"O Amor pelo Amor (I)"&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4723938459686115388?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4723938459686115388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4723938459686115388&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4723938459686115388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4723938459686115388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/05/o-amor-pelo-amor-ii.html' title='O Amor pelo Amor II'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SCRneCfqhGI/AAAAAAAABGM/WmuHSaxlbjQ/s72-c/Hearts_by_baby_hurricane.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3956223678393345523</id><published>2008-04-30T15:44:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:46.425+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Danças'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Dançarina</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SBh4OB-kV8I/AAAAAAAABEE/XUqchROeiAY/s1600-h/100_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195034352616232898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SBh4OB-kV8I/AAAAAAAABEE/XUqchROeiAY/s320/100_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffcccc;"&gt; Pic by AmeliaPhotography&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Danço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;nas tuas palavras,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;por vezes perdidas&lt;br /&gt;numa ânsia suprema de me agarrar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;por momentos mais longos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Os meus passos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;percorrem a tua garganta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;com a mesma intensidade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;que o compasso de um tango.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Bebes-me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;os gestos incertos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;enquanto me entrego&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;à luxúria dos movimentos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E, finalmente,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;percorro-te e sacio-te,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;como uma gota fresca de água,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;regando a tua garganta seca de desejo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3956223678393345523?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3956223678393345523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3956223678393345523&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3956223678393345523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3956223678393345523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/pic-by-ameliaphotography-dano-nas-tuas.html' title='Dançarina'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SBh4OB-kV8I/AAAAAAAABEE/XUqchROeiAY/s72-c/100_by_AmeliaPhotography.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2515537261787058136</id><published>2008-04-27T19:01:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T19:01:14.163+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Glen Hansard - Fallen From The Sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/5oURkDE02Qo' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/5oURkDE02Qo'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You must have fallen from the sky&lt;br /&gt;You must have shattered on the wrong way&lt;br /&gt;You brought so many to the light&lt;br /&gt;And now you're by yourself&lt;br /&gt;There comes a point in every fight&lt;br /&gt;Where giving up seems the only way&lt;br /&gt;When everyone has said goodbye&lt;br /&gt;And now you're on your own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you need somewhere to fall apart&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere to fall apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the rules of Cain&lt;br /&gt;The rights you made&lt;br /&gt;The hours did crawl&lt;br /&gt;For those to blame&lt;br /&gt;The broken glass&lt;br /&gt;The fool that asked&lt;br /&gt;The moving arrow to stop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must have fallen from the sky&lt;br /&gt;You must have come here in the pouring rain&lt;br /&gt;You took so many through the light&lt;br /&gt;And now you're on your own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you need somewhere to fall apart&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere to fall apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the ruins of man&lt;br /&gt;The bloody rag&lt;br /&gt;Be the fool the bull&lt;br /&gt;The powdered hag&lt;br /&gt;The nights that make&lt;br /&gt;The rattle rag&lt;br /&gt;The wolves that follow the ousted man&lt;br /&gt;The falling star&lt;br /&gt;The way we are&lt;br /&gt;Divine&lt;br /&gt;The rules that never ever multiply&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must have fallen from the sky&lt;br /&gt;You must have come here on the wrong way&lt;br /&gt;You came among us every time&lt;br /&gt;But now you're on your own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you need somewhere to fall apart&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere to fall apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well they call you saint&lt;br /&gt;The basket case&lt;br /&gt;The rules of thumb&lt;br /&gt;You have to break&lt;br /&gt;The raging skull&lt;br /&gt;The rag to the bull&lt;br /&gt;The nails that drag&lt;br /&gt;In either hand&lt;br /&gt;Well I will make&lt;br /&gt;My work of that&lt;br /&gt;I know this place&lt;br /&gt;I know this task&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must have fallen from the sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Must Have Fallen From The Sky, Lyrics by Glen Hansard&lt;br /&gt;Featured in the motion picture Once&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2515537261787058136?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2515537261787058136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2515537261787058136&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2515537261787058136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2515537261787058136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/glen-hansard-fallen-from-sky.html' title='Glen Hansard - Fallen From The Sky'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3850104444290328670</id><published>2008-04-27T18:44:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T18:44:56.654+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Once trailer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/7mIpwx5lA5I' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/7mIpwx5lA5I'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Um dos filmes mais mágicos que vi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para quem não souber qual é a resposta dela, em checo, à pergunta dele: &lt;br /&gt;"Ainda o amas?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A resposta é:&lt;br /&gt;"Não. Amo-te a ti."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3850104444290328670?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3850104444290328670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3850104444290328670&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3850104444290328670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3850104444290328670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/once-trailer.html' title='Once trailer'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3606533203132023858</id><published>2008-04-23T14:09:00.019+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:47.542+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Costumes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tradições'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dias festivos'/><title type='text'>Sant Jordi</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA9Mfx-kVdI/AAAAAAAAA_c/S7_fLHc_K2k/s1600-h/Wedding_8_by_grafitomane.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192453004256892370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA9Mfx-kVdI/AAAAAAAAA_c/S7_fLHc_K2k/s320/Wedding_8_by_grafitomane.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;. Barcelona .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O dia de Sant Jordi, patrono da Catalunha, é um dia em que se celebra uma das tradições catalãs mais fortes e enraizadas. As pessoas que têm um laço de amor, amizade , ou simplesmente se querem, oferecem um livro e uma rosa como demonstração desse amor, amizade. Geralmente os homens oferecem a rosa e as mulheres oferecem o livro.&lt;br /&gt;Neste dia, a cidade enche-se de rosas e bancadas de livros, onde também se podem encontrar famosos autores&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;(*)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;a darem autógrafos. A rosa mais vendida neste dia é a rosa vermelha.&lt;br /&gt;É um dia em que a cidade está ainda mais charmosa e viva e as pessoas enchem de risos e cor as Ramblas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192436309719012754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA89UB-kVZI/AAAAAAAAA-8/-Gn8Cs96mcQ/s320/Every_Rose_by_Freak_Perfume.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Quanto a nós...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho um livro para ele,&lt;br /&gt;e ele decerto não me oferecerá nenhuma flor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Temos além deste dia&lt;br /&gt;todos os outros dias,&lt;br /&gt;que também são nossos,&lt;br /&gt;e dos livros e das rosas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...sem data certa ou relógio acertado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Amamo-nos&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;todos os dias&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192444912538506690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA9FIx-kVcI/AAAAAAAAA_U/gdN5JJiVTzo/s320/Agapantha_by_SolarStorm.jpeg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. Lenda .&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há muitos anos, um terrível dragão aterrorizava os habitantes de uma aldeia da Catalunha, chamado Montblanc. O dragão causava estragos entre a população e devorava os animais da aldeia, até que um dia comeu todos os animais. Então, para acalmar a ira do dragão, os habitantes decidiram que cada dia sacrifícariam uma pessoa, escolhida ao azar e a ofereciam ao dragão como prova de boa vontade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um certo dia a pessoa que foi escolhida para ser sacrificada foi a filha do Rei. Quando estava quase a ser engolida pelo dragão, apareceu um valente cavaleiro que se enfrentou com a maldita besta. Era São Jorge. Cravou uma lança no dragão e o sangue derramado originou um rosal de rosas vermelhas. Desde aí é costume, na Catalunha, oferecer uma rosa à pessoa que se ama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;São Jorge ou &lt;em&gt;San Jordi,&lt;/em&gt; patrono da Catalunha, converteu-se no símbolo do território catalão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192458965671499266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA9R6x-kVgI/AAAAAAAAA_0/4yYOxUvWklY/s320/waiting_for_a_girl_like_you_by_Arina90.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;. Rosa .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há rosas de todas as cores, que simbolizam os estados de ânimo e os sentimentos que nos evocam as pessoas queridas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A rosa vermelha é sinal de amor e carinho e é a rosa mais popular para oferecer neste dia. No entanto também se popularizaram as rosas de outras cores:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as amarelas que simbolizam a amizade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as brancas, a inocência&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as laranja, a paixão e o desejo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as de cor rosa, a felicidade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as rosas vermelhas juntamente com as brancas, simbolizam a união;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;uma rosa só: simplicidade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as rosas vermelho forte simbolizam a beleza interior.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192442430047409570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA9C4R-kVaI/AAAAAAAAA_E/0BneOfO_Ims/s320/a_book_for_death_by_greatpp2.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. Livro .&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O dia 23 de Abril também é Dia do Livro, uma tradição que se celebra juntamente com o Dia da Rosa, uma vez que se popularizou o facto de se oferecer à pessoa querida, uma rosa ou um livro. Em 1986, a UNESCO propôs que o dia 23 de Abril fosse o Dia Internacional do Livro e dos Direitos de Autor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Pic1: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;by_grafitomane&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic2: by_FreakPerfume&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic 3: by_SolarStorm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pic4: by_Arina90&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pic5: by_greatpp2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;(*) &lt;/span&gt;Como por exemplo o meu amigo Jose Luis Ibañez que vai estar todo o dia de hoje a fazer dedicatórias do seu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.popularlibros.com/libros/NADIE-DEBERIA-MATAR-EN-OTONO/L0040001938/978-84-670-2585-9"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;último livro publicado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3606533203132023858?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3606533203132023858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3606533203132023858&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3606533203132023858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3606533203132023858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/sant-jordi.html' title='Sant Jordi'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SA9Mfx-kVdI/AAAAAAAAA_c/S7_fLHc_K2k/s72-c/Wedding_8_by_grafitomane.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7594484652904201094</id><published>2008-04-18T12:11:00.019+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:48.244+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prendinhas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Don't say cheeese...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;... to my camera, be yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAxpkMBWY2I/AAAAAAAAA9M/KA3xtuCCUo4/s1600-h/My_time_has_come_by_poisonunic.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191640540874433378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAxpkMBWY2I/AAAAAAAAA9M/KA3xtuCCUo4/s320/My_time_has_come_by_poisonunic.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Weee!!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;(*)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Click! Click! Click!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Não sou &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paparazzo"&gt;paparazzo&lt;/a&gt;, sou apenas uma eterna apaixonada por imagens, por vida e por magia. E, nesta minha jornada pela vida, vou coleccionando em fotografias alguns dos momentos sublimes que também tenho gravados no meu peito. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;e a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;máquina fotográfica&lt;/span&gt;, como&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; mais um membro do meu corpo&lt;/span&gt;... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; e as tuas &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;mil e uma expressões&lt;/span&gt; delirantemente apetecíveis e hilariantes (&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;homem das mil e uma noites de magia&lt;/span&gt;). Tu e a tua naturalidade sublime. Tu e a tua honestidade e sinceridade inquestionáveis. Tu e a tua sensibilidade. Tu e a tua musicalidade que brota de dentro para fora de ti e se expressa a cada gesto, a cada expressão do teu corpo. És o meu modelo favorito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAxpBMBWY1I/AAAAAAAAA9E/1xvq_AbUxow/s1600-h/le_ossa_di_mio_zio_by_missbruska.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191639939579011922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAxpBMBWY1I/AAAAAAAAA9E/1xvq_AbUxow/s320/le_ossa_di_mio_zio_by_missbruska.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Click! Click! Click! &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Apanhei-te!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;(*)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Obrigada pela nova máquina fotográfica, a segunda melhor prenda do mundo, para mim! Pois a primeira, evidentemente, que és tu e o nosso pequenino felino.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic1: My_time_has_come_by_poisonunic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic2: le_ossa_di_mio_zio_by_missbruska&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7594484652904201094?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7594484652904201094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7594484652904201094&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7594484652904201094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7594484652904201094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/dont-say-cheeease.html' title='Don&apos;t say cheeese...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAxpkMBWY2I/AAAAAAAAA9M/KA3xtuCCUo4/s72-c/My_time_has_come_by_poisonunic.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1068474194594307328</id><published>2008-04-16T17:20:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:48.338+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>A Fada e o Feiticeiro</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAYZ1UZlsnI/AAAAAAAAA7c/62U4jNDqPQk/s1600-h/Passion_by_josemanchado.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189864024390873714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAYZ1UZlsnI/AAAAAAAAA7c/62U4jNDqPQk/s320/Passion_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Encho-o de beijos de mel,&lt;br /&gt;de olhos arrebatadamente apaixonados&lt;br /&gt;de gestos ora acetinados e delicados,&lt;br /&gt;ora aveludados e quentes, querubim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diz-me que sou uma fada&lt;br /&gt;e fita-me com o olhar encantado&lt;br /&gt;como se houvesse magia em mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ofereço-lhe as borboletas,&lt;br /&gt;as flores silvestres e campestres&lt;br /&gt;que brotam do meu coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me sorrisos de perlimpimpim&lt;br /&gt;O céu imenso e as estrelas,&lt;br /&gt;os mares selvagens e rios doces&lt;br /&gt;e dá-me tudo o que sou, apenas, assim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Lanço-lhe um sorriso de varinha mágica...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;... e ele retribui-me com um olhar de feitiço negro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1068474194594307328?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1068474194594307328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1068474194594307328&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1068474194594307328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1068474194594307328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/fada-e-o-feiticeiro.html' title='A Fada e o Feiticeiro'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/SAYZ1UZlsnI/AAAAAAAAA7c/62U4jNDqPQk/s72-c/Passion_by_josemanchado.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8642574637097177138</id><published>2008-04-11T17:29:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:48.725+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Músicas e letras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>I should be so lucky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188024148083622642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_-QebCsQvI/AAAAAAAAA5M/-Gc1q_x8WJY/s320/ultimatekylie_promo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;(*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In my imagination&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There is no complication&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I dream about you all the time&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In my mind a celebration&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sweetest of sensation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thinking you could be mine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In my imagination&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There is no hesitation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We walk together hand in hand&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm dreaming&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You fell in love with me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like I'm in love with you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But dreaming's all I do&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If only they'd come true&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should be so lucky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lucky lucky lucky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should be so lucky in love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should be so lucky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lucky lucky lucky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should be so lucky in love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's a crazy situation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You always keep me waiting&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because its only make believe&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I would come a-running&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To give you all my loving&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If one day you would notice me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart is close to breaking&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I can't go on faking&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The fantasy that you'll be mine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm dreaming&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That you're in love with me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like I'm in love with you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But dreaming's all I do&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If only they'd come true&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should be so lucky (so lucky, so lucky)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I should be so lucky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I, I, I, I...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should be so lucky (so lucky, so lucky)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I should be so lucky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Kylie Minogue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188024715019305746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_-Q_bCsQxI/AAAAAAAAA5c/YOeiTARCha0/s320/xin_132010502081707802931.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm so lucky&lt;/span&gt; 'cause this dream is true.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(*) As imagens são uma oferta especial &lt;em&gt;for him;)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8642574637097177138?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8642574637097177138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8642574637097177138&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8642574637097177138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8642574637097177138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-should-be-so-lucky.html' title='I should be so lucky'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_-QebCsQvI/AAAAAAAAA5M/-Gc1q_x8WJY/s72-c/ultimatekylie_promo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5389232778177904724</id><published>2008-04-11T17:13:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T20:37:25.858+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nós'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>(des)Equilíbrio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_-BQbCsQmI/AAAAAAAAA4E/2ZOOFE3-Y4o/s1600-h/Johnny_Wallace___open_legs_wp_by_josemanchado.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188007414891037282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_-BQbCsQmI/AAAAAAAAA4E/2ZOOFE3-Y4o/s320/Johnny_Wallace___open_legs_wp_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;O levitar da minha alma no teu corpo,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;o cheiro da tua pele&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;está entranhado no meu peito.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Os erros, (des)enganos,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;os testes (des)conhecidos.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by Jose Manchado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5389232778177904724?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5389232778177904724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5389232778177904724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5389232778177904724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5389232778177904724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/desequilbrio.html' title='(des)Equilíbrio'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_-BQbCsQmI/AAAAAAAAA4E/2ZOOFE3-Y4o/s72-c/Johnny_Wallace___open_legs_wp_by_josemanchado.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4248514371253951510</id><published>2008-04-07T18:19:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:49.209+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_pKAwg_oFI/AAAAAAAAA3M/lhszI1U2udw/s1600-h/Carmen___clasic_nude_pose_by_josemanchado.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186539297754292306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_pKAwg_oFI/AAAAAAAAA3M/lhszI1U2udw/s320/Carmen___clasic_nude_pose_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;perfect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who&lt;br /&gt;I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187210304789913746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_ysSgg_oJI/AAAAAAAAA3s/5thAJAN7sC0/s320/my+red+hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic1: Carmen classic nude by josemanchado&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic2: Myself. By Lethe (com a câmara de star0nfire)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4248514371253951510?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4248514371253951510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4248514371253951510&amp;isPopup=true' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4248514371253951510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4248514371253951510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-not-perfect.html' title=''/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_pKAwg_oFI/AAAAAAAAA3M/lhszI1U2udw/s72-c/Carmen___clasic_nude_pose_by_josemanchado.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2855289600931891859</id><published>2008-04-03T10:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:49.515+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Músicas e letras'/><title type='text'>La Ballade of Lady and Bird</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_SaqAg_oCI/AAAAAAAAA20/VgTiyXcnT08/s1600-h/Eli___bird_by_josemanchado.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184939117493854242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_SaqAg_oCI/AAAAAAAAA20/VgTiyXcnT08/s320/Eli___bird_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"(...) &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bird: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lady?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Lady: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes Bird?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bird: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's cold&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt; I know&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Lady:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;Bird...I cannot see a thing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bird: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's all in your mind&lt;/em&gt; (...)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lady Bird&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I look up to the little bird&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That glides across the sky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He sings the clearest melody&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It makes me want to cry&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It makes me want to sit right down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And cry, cry, cryI walk along the city streets&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So dark with rage and fear&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I, I wish that I could be that bird&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And fly away from here&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wish I had the wings to fly away from here&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But my, my I feel so low&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My, my, where do I go?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My, my, what do I know?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My, my, we reap what we sow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They always said that you knew best but&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This little bird's fallen out of that nest now&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've got a feeling that it might have been blessed so&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've just got to put these wings to test&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For I am just a troubled soul&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who's weighted...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Weighted to the ground&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Give me the strength to carry on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Till I can lay my burden down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Give me the strength to lay this burden down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down, down, yeah&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Give me the strength to lay it down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But my, my I feel so low&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;my,my,where do I go?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;my,my, what do I know?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;my, my, we reap what we sow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They always said that you knew best but&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This little bird's fallen out of that nest now&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've got a feeling that it might have been blessed so&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've just got to put these wings to test."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Annie Lennox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Foram precisos vários voos, várias quedas e feridas também. Sorri e sofri em compassos alternados e desacertados. Algumas vezes ganhei e outras perdi.&lt;br /&gt;No entanto arriscava tudo de novo, mesmo não sabendo(*) se iria chegar &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;aqui&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(*) tal como não sabia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic Eli___bird_by_josemanchado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2855289600931891859?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2855289600931891859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2855289600931891859&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2855289600931891859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2855289600931891859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/04/la-ballade-of-lady-and-bird.html' title='La Ballade of Lady and Bird'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R_SaqAg_oCI/AAAAAAAAA20/VgTiyXcnT08/s72-c/Eli___bird_by_josemanchado.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4186431851215668731</id><published>2008-03-28T17:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:49.908+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Nudez. Gosto.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R-0nlgg_n1I/AAAAAAAAA1I/l55l9p4FehE/s1600-h/90a3449486b83059.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182842271510273874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R-0nlgg_n1I/AAAAAAAAA1I/l55l9p4FehE/s320/90a3449486b83059.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Gosto de andar nua&lt;/span&gt; pela casa, no Inverno (às vezes) apenas com umas meias curtas e grossas daquelas com bolinhas na planta dos pés ou simplesmente com uns chinelos de enfiar no dedo. Gosto de me deitar nua debaixo dos lençóis frios e de os sentir aquecer gradualmente com o calor do meu ou dos nossos corpos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(E ainda gosto mais de estar nua, quando te vejo louco e com o olhar vidradamente tarado, despertando-me com esses beijos, carícias e penetrações sublimes tão tuas)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gosto de me sentar nua, em cima da mesa, a ler um livro e ouvir música.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Gosto de fazer jogging&lt;/span&gt; nua, pela casa, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;com uns sapatos de salto alto&lt;/span&gt; calçados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Gosto de&lt;/span&gt; banhos longos, de esfoliar a pele, da sensação da toalha envolvendo-me o corpo arrepiado, da cor rosa dos meus mamilos quando apontam para &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ti&lt;/span&gt;, das tuas mãos neles, do render do meu corpo aos teus gestos, do teu corpo no meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Gosto de me untar&lt;/span&gt; toda com creme de frutos, no Verão de me vaporizar com colónias frutais também. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Gosto de&lt;/span&gt; massajar bem os pés e &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;de te massajar&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; todo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;com eles. E do massajar dos teus órgãos no meu corpo.&lt;br /&gt;Gosto de passar os dedos em ti, &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;de te arranhar&lt;/span&gt;, de te agarrar &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;e te largar&lt;/span&gt; subitamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Não é só para te provocar, é porque gosto&lt;/span&gt;. Mas confesso que também &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;gosto de te provocar&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;E...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Gosto de ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182843340957130594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R-0ojwg_n2I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/qH5hrDHaG8I/s320/Steph_and_Pat___Sweet_dreams_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pics by_Jose Manchado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4186431851215668731?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4186431851215668731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4186431851215668731&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4186431851215668731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4186431851215668731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/nudez-gosto.html' title='Nudez. Gosto.'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R-0nlgg_n1I/AAAAAAAAA1I/l55l9p4FehE/s72-c/90a3449486b83059.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3289968162642799063</id><published>2008-03-24T18:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:50.056+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You and I'/><title type='text'>Creation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R96kJP3XkTI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/qjwdhPk-51w/s1600-h/Creation_by_josemanchado.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178757100307190066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R96kJP3XkTI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/qjwdhPk-51w/s320/Creation_by_josemanchado.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juntos criamos o nosso mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despimo-nos de artifícios,&lt;br /&gt;de dores passadas,&lt;br /&gt;de chagas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Renascemos, juntos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De mãos dadas,&lt;br /&gt;olhos brilhantes&lt;br /&gt;e corações&lt;br /&gt;repletos de amor;&lt;br /&gt;vamos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos criando o nosso mundo,&lt;br /&gt;sem pressas,&lt;br /&gt;ao ritmo do nosso peito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos,&lt;br /&gt;vamos vivendo cada sorriso,&lt;br /&gt;cada momento único&lt;br /&gt;sem medos,&lt;br /&gt;juntos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt;Pic by_josemanchado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3289968162642799063?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3289968162642799063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3289968162642799063&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3289968162642799063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3289968162642799063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/creation.html' title='Creation'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R96kJP3XkTI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/qjwdhPk-51w/s72-c/Creation_by_josemanchado.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-9215736593227366154</id><published>2008-03-18T10:26:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T10:26:28.388+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Patrick Watson - Luscious Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/jRLbpy9KDaY' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/jRLbpy9KDaY'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Sweet oh luscious life &lt;br /&gt;celebrate your dreams when you are away &lt;br /&gt;doesn't it taste so sweet &lt;br /&gt;like it's growing on oh growing on the trees &lt;br /&gt;growing on the trees &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you beg me up off the ground &lt;br /&gt;i'll slowly turn you from a frown &lt;br /&gt;sweet oh luscious life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my sweet oh luscious life &lt;br /&gt;you taste so sweet &lt;br /&gt;when you are so free &lt;br /&gt;my sweet oh luscious life you taste so sweet to me &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hold time no need for the moment of the day &lt;br /&gt;i celebrate i need i need today &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was wondering of the day &lt;br /&gt;to celebrate &lt;br /&gt;to let it be &lt;br /&gt;to feel so free &lt;br /&gt;when you and me &lt;br /&gt;in a sweet luscious life &lt;br /&gt;for a minute of day &lt;br /&gt;you taste so sweet"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-9215736593227366154?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/9215736593227366154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=9215736593227366154&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/9215736593227366154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/9215736593227366154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/patrick-watson-luscious-life.html' title='Patrick Watson - Luscious Life'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1558947086349162944</id><published>2008-03-14T10:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:50.348+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frases'/><title type='text'>Crime</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9pFAv3XkNI/AAAAAAAAAzg/IS7kumYtnpc/s1600-h/00+geddes564.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9pD4P3XkMI/AAAAAAAAAzY/iJsVBaqVGKg/s1600-h/The_reason_why_i__m_thinking_by_xxchange.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177525355226304706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9pD4P3XkMI/AAAAAAAAAzY/iJsVBaqVGKg/s320/The_reason_why_i__m_thinking_by_xxchange.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se o &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;meu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;crime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;é&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;amar-te&lt;/span&gt; tanto,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;que a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;minha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; pena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;seja&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;estar&lt;/span&gt; presa&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; aos&lt;/span&gt; teus braços&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;para sempre.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by_xxchange&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1558947086349162944?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1558947086349162944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1558947086349162944&amp;isPopup=true' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1558947086349162944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1558947086349162944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/crime.html' title='Crime'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9pD4P3XkMI/AAAAAAAAAzY/iJsVBaqVGKg/s72-c/The_reason_why_i__m_thinking_by_xxchange.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-3348437758077319965</id><published>2008-03-11T12:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:50.609+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nós'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><title type='text'>Prisoner II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9Zzvf3XkLI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/iNsHmvCYxq4/s1600-h/Prisoner+by+Death-Chicks.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176452081553739954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9Zzvf3XkLI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/iNsHmvCYxq4/s320/Prisoner+by+Death-Chicks.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Preso&lt;/span&gt; aos meus braços&lt;br /&gt;e eu &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;presa&lt;/span&gt; ao odor&lt;br /&gt;que liberta teu corpo&lt;br /&gt;quando dizes que me amas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;por gestos&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto voamos,&lt;br /&gt;juntos,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;prendes-me a ti&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prendo-te.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Prendo-te a mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;com nossos laços&lt;br /&gt;fortes de seda perfumada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu, quando me procuro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;não  ( me) encontro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as minhas impressões &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;só&lt;/span&gt;s.&lt;br /&gt;Elas misturam-se,&lt;br /&gt;coexistem com as tuas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;aqui&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Não perco&lt;/span&gt; a identidade,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ganho&lt;/span&gt;-te a ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic_by Death-Chicks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-3348437758077319965?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/3348437758077319965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=3348437758077319965&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3348437758077319965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/3348437758077319965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/prisoner-ii.html' title='Prisoner II'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9Zzvf3XkLI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/iNsHmvCYxq4/s72-c/Prisoner+by+Death-Chicks.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7964336453992212281</id><published>2008-03-07T17:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:51.199+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9FzUf3XkII/AAAAAAAAAy4/6TUvn9sYF34/s1600-h/00+geddes564.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Só tua,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sou só tua.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175042297193533538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9FxjP3XkGI/AAAAAAAAAyo/2siwidJLBFo/s320/Her_Red_Shoes_II_by_vampire_zombie.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas antes de ser só tua,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;sou apenas minha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175039325076164690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9Fu2P3XkFI/AAAAAAAAAyg/X5wW1pYLAaQ/s320/Her_Red_Shoes_III_by_vampire_zombie.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E no meio de ser tão tua e minha,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;afinal sou de nós os dois.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175043151892025458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9FyU_3XkHI/AAAAAAAAAyw/6lTf-b9D8F0/s320/Nothing_but_Love_by_HelloFroggy.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pics 1 e 2 by_vampire_zombie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic 3 by_HelloFroggy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7964336453992212281?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7964336453992212281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7964336453992212281&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7964336453992212281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7964336453992212281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title='!!!'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9FxjP3XkGI/AAAAAAAAAyo/2siwidJLBFo/s72-c/Her_Red_Shoes_II_by_vampire_zombie.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5413642445738741174</id><published>2008-03-06T16:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:51.391+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pensamentos para a vida'/><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8wV1nrvyUI/AAAAAAAAAxg/hPPBE2lSo9M/s1600-h/00+geddes564.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8wUxHrvyTI/AAAAAAAAAxY/hraeg_rAHYs/s1600-h/Her_Red_Shoes_I_by_vampire_zombie.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173532906050537778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8wUxHrvyTI/AAAAAAAAAxY/hraeg_rAHYs/s320/Her_Red_Shoes_I_by_vampire_zombie.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"No puedo ser la mujer de tu vida,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;porque soy la mujer de la mia."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by_vampire_zombie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5413642445738741174?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5413642445738741174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5413642445738741174&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5413642445738741174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5413642445738741174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/to-be-continued-with-you.html' title='...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8wUxHrvyTI/AAAAAAAAAxY/hraeg_rAHYs/s72-c/Her_Red_Shoes_I_by_vampire_zombie.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8891682468036597740</id><published>2008-03-04T19:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:51.781+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Mas, mas... como é que... já?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R86c7_IdyLI/AAAAAAAAAyA/4AtrO9BBaKA/s1600-h/www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt9.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174245576268433586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R86c7_IdyLI/AAAAAAAAAyA/4AtrO9BBaKA/s320/www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt9.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adoro quando os teus olhos brilham assim, sabes? És lindo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174245919865817282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R86dP_IdyMI/AAAAAAAAAyI/ziV96KLWFV4/s320/25_07_2www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt.jpeg" border="0" /&gt; És o papá mais lindo e babado do mundo:)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174662669132482786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R9AYR_IdyOI/AAAAAAAAAyY/xqERmKmDVS0/s320/gato.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic1 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt9/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic2 25_07_2www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8891682468036597740?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8891682468036597740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8891682468036597740&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8891682468036597740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8891682468036597740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R86c7_IdyLI/AAAAAAAAAyA/4AtrO9BBaKA/s72-c/www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt9.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-960942192842345733</id><published>2008-03-03T09:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:51.973+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dias festivos'/><title type='text'>Happy birthday to you</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8vNNnrvyRI/AAAAAAAAAxI/TXlcEVTZ4WA/s1600-h/Happy_Birthday_by_Slawa.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173454230839609618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8vNNnrvyRI/AAAAAAAAAxI/TXlcEVTZ4WA/s320/Happy_Birthday_by_Slawa.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know it doesn't make much sense&lt;br /&gt;There ought to be a law against&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who takes offense&lt;br /&gt;At a day in your celebration&lt;br /&gt;cause we all know in our minds&lt;br /&gt;That there ought to be a time&lt;br /&gt;That we can set aside&lt;br /&gt;To show just how much we love you&lt;br /&gt;And I'm sure you would agree&lt;br /&gt;It couldnt fit more perfectly&lt;br /&gt;Than to have a world party on the day you came to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just never understood&lt;br /&gt;How a man who died for good&lt;br /&gt;Could not have a day that would&lt;br /&gt;Be set aside for his recognition&lt;br /&gt;Because it should never be&lt;br /&gt;Just because some cannot see&lt;br /&gt;The dream as clear as he&lt;br /&gt;That they should make it become an illusion&lt;br /&gt;And we all know everything&lt;br /&gt;That he stood for time will bring&lt;br /&gt;For in peace our hearts will sing&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Martin Luther King&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why has there never been a holiday&lt;br /&gt;Where peace is celebrated&lt;br /&gt;All throughout the world&lt;br /&gt;The time is overdue&lt;br /&gt;For people like me and you&lt;br /&gt;Who know the way to truth&lt;br /&gt;Is love and unity to all gods children&lt;br /&gt;It should never be a great event&lt;br /&gt;And the whole day should be spent&lt;br /&gt;In full remembrance&lt;br /&gt;Of those who lived and died for the oneness of all people&lt;br /&gt;So let us all begin&lt;br /&gt;We know that love can win&lt;br /&gt;Let it out dont hold it in&lt;br /&gt;Sing it loud as you can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to you&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday&lt;br /&gt;Ooh yeah&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know the key to unify all people&lt;br /&gt;Is in the dream that you had so long ago&lt;br /&gt;That lives in all of the hearts of people&lt;br /&gt;That believe in unity&lt;br /&gt;Well make the dream become a reality&lt;br /&gt;I know we will&lt;br /&gt;Because our hearts tell us so.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stevie Wonder, Happy birthday&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173467184460974370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8vY_nrvySI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/LGOld3alMfI/s320/happy_birthday_by_belizyy.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(*)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Feliz aniversário&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;meu mágico,&lt;br /&gt;poeta que escreves meu corpo,&lt;br /&gt;músico que tocas meu coração!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amo-te,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;amo-te muito&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Estar &lt;strong&gt;contigo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; também é a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;melhor&lt;/strong&gt; prenda&lt;/span&gt; de &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;anos&lt;/span&gt; que recebi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Shiuuu... O quê que interessa se ainda não é hoje que faço anos?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;(*)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Para quem não perceba turco, está escrito "Feliz aniversário" no balão:)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic1 by_Slawa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic2 by_belizyy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-960942192842345733?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/960942192842345733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=960942192842345733&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/960942192842345733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/960942192842345733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-birthday-to-you.html' title='Happy birthday to you'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8vNNnrvyRI/AAAAAAAAAxI/TXlcEVTZ4WA/s72-c/Happy_Birthday_by_Slawa.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2221538742438676460</id><published>2008-02-26T16:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:52.113+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><title type='text'>See No Evil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LhKVrBRfI/AAAAAAAAAwg/IiwSNrArNqg/s1600-h/See_No_Evil_by_lithiumpicnic.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170942889907275250" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LhKVrBRfI/AAAAAAAAAwg/IiwSNrArNqg/s320/See_No_Evil_by_lithiumpicnic.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Escrevo-te,&lt;br /&gt;escrevo-te na minha pele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Misturando as tuas impressões digitais com as minhas,&lt;br /&gt;reinvento-te.&lt;br /&gt;Reinvento a forma como me escreves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No flutuar do desejo&lt;br /&gt;leio cada pedaço de ti com a minha língua,&lt;br /&gt;e tu, tocas melodias novas&lt;br /&gt;na pauta do meu corpo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pic by_lithiumpicnic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2221538742438676460?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2221538742438676460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2221538742438676460&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2221538742438676460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2221538742438676460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/see-no-evil.html' title='See No Evil'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LhKVrBRfI/AAAAAAAAAwg/IiwSNrArNqg/s72-c/See_No_Evil_by_lithiumpicnic.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8328135425364947241</id><published>2008-02-25T15:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:52.349+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>Reach Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LdBVrBReI/AAAAAAAAAwY/IHgU1xKZTiw/s1600-h/Reach_Out_by_rxandy.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170938337241941474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LdBVrBReI/AAAAAAAAAwY/IHgU1xKZTiw/s320/Reach_Out_by_rxandy.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sinto-te&lt;/span&gt; a fervilhar dentro de mim e um formigueiro constante nos dedos impondo-me que to diga, também, por escrito. Gosto que me escrevas, também, mas as &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;melhores cartas&lt;/span&gt; que li foram aquelas &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;escritas pelo toque do teu corpo no meu&lt;/span&gt;, pelo calor da tua voz no meu umbigo, pela bola de cristal que são teus olhos siderados nos meus, pelo veludo dos teus lábios nos meus pés, a seda com que os teus braços me enlaçam...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Amo-te&lt;/span&gt;, Amo-te muito! E, cada gesto meu é a dança deste sentimento que continua a crescer por ti...&lt;br /&gt;Em ti, gosto de tudo. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Gosto muito&lt;/span&gt; de me afogar no mar de &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;emoções&lt;/span&gt; que me proporcionas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Fazes-me sonhar&lt;/span&gt;, sabes?&lt;br /&gt;Mas, melhor que isso, tornaste a minha vida num sonho desde que chegaste. E a minha realidade pintaste-a de gestos encantadores, apaixonados, ternos, tranquilizantes e preencheste-a com a melhor banda sonora de sempre.&lt;br /&gt;Quero-te, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;quero-te sempre&lt;/span&gt;. E se a vida nos proporcionar isso, para sempre também...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170943972239033858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LiJVrBRgI/AAAAAAAAAwo/FBNbTxzQIM0/s320/beijo_by_Luhsampaio.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ccffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Um poema da Ana Gonçalves&lt;/strong&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;em que quase &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;chorei&lt;/span&gt; e&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; ri&lt;/span&gt; de &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;emoção&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;como naquele dia em que...),&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ccffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dedicado a ti:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ccffff;"&gt;"…coisa boa da vida…&lt;br /&gt;És o lado bom de uma história infantil…&lt;br /&gt;De todas quantas li&lt;br /&gt;De todas quantas quis que tivessem sido verdade&lt;br /&gt;Chegaste no tempo&lt;br /&gt;em que a idade me dá malmequeres para desfolhar&lt;br /&gt;Num tempo, em que os teus olhos me bastam&lt;br /&gt;Ofereço-te…todos os meus abraços&lt;br /&gt;Porque quero tocar-te.&lt;br /&gt;És a risonha malícia&lt;br /&gt;Tens tudo o que tem uma etiqueta de roupa nova&lt;br /&gt;… mas em grego.&lt;br /&gt;És lindo …&lt;br /&gt;E não vale a pena quererem que sejas&lt;br /&gt;És agora um e logo outro&lt;br /&gt;De tantos lados…que dodecaedro em ti não combina&lt;br /&gt;Estás e foges&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não te peço nada e tenho-te&lt;br /&gt;São instantes…&lt;br /&gt;Vives num álbum meu…&lt;br /&gt;A preto e branco tal como eu gosto&lt;br /&gt;És feito do que pouco me importa&lt;br /&gt;Mas importa que estejas&lt;br /&gt;De uma sublime loucura são estes momentos&lt;br /&gt;Não jogamos conversa fora,&lt;br /&gt;entrelaçamos as nossas palavras&lt;br /&gt;E falamos tanto calados&lt;br /&gt;Conheço o teu cheiro&lt;br /&gt;E amo-te tanto assim.&lt;br /&gt;Acende-me velas ao almoço&lt;br /&gt;Pouco importa quem passa lá fora&lt;br /&gt;Se 'o' dia vier…&lt;br /&gt;Se jogarmos xadrez , vou acabar nua!&lt;br /&gt;E sei que vou rir!&lt;br /&gt;Gosto de te ver chegar!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic1 by_rxandy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic2 by_Luhsampaio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8328135425364947241?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8328135425364947241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8328135425364947241&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8328135425364947241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8328135425364947241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/reach-out.html' title='Reach Out'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R8LdBVrBReI/AAAAAAAAAwY/IHgU1xKZTiw/s72-c/Reach_Out_by_rxandy.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7688809794885140379</id><published>2008-02-22T10:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:52.544+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><title type='text'>Prisoner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R76pn1rBRZI/AAAAAAAAAvw/chHYX1hU4ms/s1600-h/10542c05cce482b4.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169755924155418002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R76pn1rBRZI/AAAAAAAAAvw/chHYX1hU4ms/s320/10542c05cce482b4.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deviam-te emitir uma &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ordem&lt;/span&gt; de &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;captura&lt;/span&gt; quando me olhas&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;dessa&lt;/span&gt; forma. E nesse documento deveria aparecer a letras&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; grandes&lt;/span&gt; e &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;gordas&lt;/span&gt; que a tua pena para este delito seria ficares &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;preso&lt;/span&gt; – por tempo indefinido – aos &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;meus braços&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic by_Death-Chicks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7688809794885140379?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7688809794885140379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7688809794885140379&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7688809794885140379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7688809794885140379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/prisoner.html' title='Prisoner'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R76pn1rBRZI/AAAAAAAAAvw/chHYX1hU4ms/s72-c/10542c05cce482b4.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1124299043862814711</id><published>2008-02-20T13:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:52.656+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Never ending movie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7wevVrBRUI/AAAAAAAAAvI/PIbF9sgR9Zw/s1600-h/___Foot____by_BFMVgirl.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7wdH1rBRTI/AAAAAAAAAvA/mFlEjiGbS2s/s1600-h/_never_ending_movie_by_xxchange.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169038492818294066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7wdH1rBRTI/AAAAAAAAAvA/mFlEjiGbS2s/s320/_never_ending_movie_by_xxchange.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não importam os caminhos que me levaram até ti, nem os roseirais repletos de espinhos que encontrei pelo caminho.&lt;br /&gt;Tu, nunca me deixaste de beber sempre que chegava, aos teus braços, com sede de ti.&lt;br /&gt;Eu, nunca te deixei de aquecer sempre que chegavas, ao meu colo, com frio de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Houve tempos em que nos perdemos do mundo, em que nos perdemos de nós.&lt;br /&gt;Mas, agora, o que me importa apenas é o campo de papoilas soltas ao vento onde, juntos, nos encontrámos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Pic_by_xxchange&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1124299043862814711?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1124299043862814711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1124299043862814711&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1124299043862814711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1124299043862814711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/never-ending-movie.html' title='Never ending movie'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7wdH1rBRTI/AAAAAAAAAvA/mFlEjiGbS2s/s72-c/_never_ending_movie_by_xxchange.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4535851131119808310</id><published>2008-02-18T15:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:52.809+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>(Your) Umbrella girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7mZYFrBRSI/AAAAAAAAAu4/2Om8qOUQK0g/s1600-h/umbrella_girl_by_Nela1812.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168330686502880546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7mZYFrBRSI/AAAAAAAAAu4/2Om8qOUQK0g/s320/umbrella_girl_by_Nela1812.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O inverno não se fez notar muito por aqui, no entanto hoje chove na rua. Quero correr debaixo de todas as gotas de chuva, pisar todos os charcos de água, colar o cabelo húmido ao corpo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, então, eu saltito de poça em poça de água com as minhas botas de borracha. Tu sorris e delicias-te com o meu riso frenético de menina.&lt;br /&gt;Olhas-me, apaixonadamente, e sinto que amas esse meu espírito de menina mulher...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abro os braços, abraço a chuva, beijo-te, afasto-te o cabelo molhado e, com a minha voz quente, digo-te:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Siempre que&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; llueva&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;en tu corazón&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;yo &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;seré tu paraguas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ou:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Whenever it &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;rains&lt;/span&gt; in your&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i will be&lt;/span&gt; your&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;umbrella!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rain - Beatles&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"If the rain comes they run and hide their heads.&lt;br /&gt;They might as well be dead,&lt;br /&gt;If the rain comes, if the rain comes.&lt;br /&gt;When the sun shines they slip into the shade,&lt;br /&gt;And sip their lemonade,&lt;br /&gt;When the sun shines, when the sun shines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain, I don't mind,&lt;br /&gt;Shine, the weather's fine.&lt;br /&gt;I can show you that when it starts to rain,&lt;br /&gt;Everything's the same,&lt;br /&gt;I can show you,&lt;br /&gt;I can show you.&lt;br /&gt;Rain, I don't mind,&lt;br /&gt;Shine, the weather's fine.&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear me that &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;when it rains and shines&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's just a state of mind&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear me, can you hear me?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic by_Nela1812&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4535851131119808310?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4535851131119808310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4535851131119808310&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4535851131119808310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4535851131119808310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/your-umbrella-girl.html' title='(Your) Umbrella girl'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7mZYFrBRSI/AAAAAAAAAu4/2Om8qOUQK0g/s72-c/umbrella_girl_by_Nela1812.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2657020805773797042</id><published>2008-02-15T11:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:52.976+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Strung Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7V9elrBRRI/AAAAAAAAAuw/LuZBLSSXKHk/s1600-h/Strung_Out_by_xxchange.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167174111939609874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7V9elrBRRI/AAAAAAAAAuw/LuZBLSSXKHk/s320/Strung_Out_by_xxchange.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quando me cantas,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;falas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sussurras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ao ouvido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;toda essa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;melodia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;percorre&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E, embalada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;por esse magnífico som&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;faço &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;abdominais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;na tua &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;voz&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pic by_xxchange&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2657020805773797042?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2657020805773797042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2657020805773797042&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2657020805773797042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2657020805773797042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/strung-out.html' title='Strung Out'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7V9elrBRRI/AAAAAAAAAuw/LuZBLSSXKHk/s72-c/Strung_Out_by_xxchange.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4828807310812578387</id><published>2008-02-14T17:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:53.235+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hoje a página do Google encontra-se assim:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7RsK1rBRQI/AAAAAAAAAuo/zjbYNub33iM/s1600-h/valentine08.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166873605962810626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7RsK1rBRQI/AAAAAAAAAuo/zjbYNub33iM/s320/valentine08.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esquecendo todo o mercantilismo que o dia de hoje representa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;verdadeiro &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; é mesmo assim, dura &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;toda&lt;/span&gt; uma &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;vida&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4828807310812578387?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4828807310812578387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4828807310812578387&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4828807310812578387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4828807310812578387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/hoje-pgina-do-google-encontra-se-assim.html' title=''/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7RsK1rBRQI/AAAAAAAAAuo/zjbYNub33iM/s72-c/valentine08.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1184299406179580766</id><published>2008-02-14T12:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:53.946+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>S. Valentine´s Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7Qn7lrBRJI/AAAAAAAAAtw/K--hPMKUZys/s1600-h/www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt4.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166798577179116690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7Qn7lrBRJI/AAAAAAAAAtw/K--hPMKUZys/s320/www.lyden.biz%2B_jonas_ranum_brandt4.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Porque&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; todos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; os dias&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;são&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;nossos&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166798864941925538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7QoMVrBRKI/AAAAAAAAAt4/4ctYCgSum8Q/s320/www.lyden.biz%2B_jonas_ranum_brandt3.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;todos&lt;/span&gt; os dias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;celebramos&lt;/span&gt; o que se celebra hoje.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166799453352445106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7QoulrBRLI/AAAAAAAAAuA/gGU5w7FCEzg/s320/www.lyden.biz%2B_jonas_ranum_brandt.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Feliz&lt;/span&gt; dia!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166800320935838914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7QphFrBRMI/AAAAAAAAAuI/IGII_0Aowas/s320/www.lyden.biz%2Bjonas_ranum_brandt.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amo-te!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hoje &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;mais&lt;/span&gt; do que&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; ontem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;e &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;amanhã&lt;/span&gt; sempre mais&lt;/span&gt; do que &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;hoje&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166802799131968722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7QrxVrBRNI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/l-axsWmEXKc/s320/www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt1.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt4/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt4/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt3/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt3/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.lyden.biz+_jonas_ranum_brandt/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyden.biz+jonas_ranum_brandt/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;www.lyden.biz+jonas_ranum_brandt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt1/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;www.lyden.biz_jonas_ranum_brandt1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1184299406179580766?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1184299406179580766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1184299406179580766&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1184299406179580766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1184299406179580766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/s-valentines-day.html' title='S. Valentine´s Day'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7Qn7lrBRJI/AAAAAAAAAtw/K--hPMKUZys/s72-c/www.lyden.biz%2B_jonas_ranum_brandt4.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5132313595896342023</id><published>2008-02-12T18:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:54.426+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Smile'/><title type='text'>Embrace to smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7HIrlrBRFI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/d_JfUametqI/s1600-h/embrace_to_smile_by_yellowcoffee.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166130898743149650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7HIrlrBRFI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/d_JfUametqI/s320/embrace_to_smile_by_yellowcoffee.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Fazes-me rir&lt;/span&gt; logo &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;pela manhã&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166509169397810274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7Mgt1rBRGI/AAAAAAAAAtY/t7LyYi_q4y4/s320/Pled___smile_by_zaparolenoe.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Anda lá, anda lá, anda lá...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166509680498918514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7MhLlrBRHI/AAAAAAAAAtg/iNIOA9KzOIM/s320/julie_by_hellycopter.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Como é que consegues ser&lt;/span&gt; assim, maravilhosamente &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;tu&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic1 by_yellowcoffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic2 by_zaparolenoe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic3 by_hellycopter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5132313595896342023?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5132313595896342023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5132313595896342023&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5132313595896342023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5132313595896342023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/fazes-me-rir-logo-pela-manh-como-que.html' title='Embrace to smile'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R7HIrlrBRFI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/d_JfUametqI/s72-c/embrace_to_smile_by_yellowcoffee.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6313451995502934761</id><published>2008-02-07T19:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:54.534+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Leap of Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6dFGH7wetI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/LSI8BKG-tJE/s1600-h/Leap_of_Joy_by_MBoy535.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163171469314783954" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6dFGH7wetI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/LSI8BKG-tJE/s320/Leap_of_Joy_by_MBoy535.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Fazes-me&lt;/span&gt; sorrir&lt;/span&gt; como uma tonta &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;todo o dia&lt;/span&gt;. E, para isso basta existires (ao meu lado). Quando acordo, pela manhã, tenho sempre aqueles minutos de negação em que digo: &lt;em&gt;'Não! Hoje não vou trabalhar, ninguém me consegue arrancar dos teus braços. E colo-me a ti como uma lapa.'&lt;/em&gt; Depois abro um olho, devagarinho, cheiro-te o pescoço, olho-te adormecido e vibro, vibro, vibro de felicidade por te ter ali(aqui, fazendo parte da minha vida). Guardo a imagem do teu rosto dourado, da forma sublime dos teus olhos, do acetinado dos teus lábios, e daquele sinal pequenino que tens acima deles, do veludo da tua pele, do teu toque, (ai) das tuas mãos, dos teus pés bem enroscados nos meus, das nossas pernas entrançadas, dos nossos corpos num movimento &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;uníssono&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Essa é a imagem que trago comigo ao longo do dia, e vou fazendo pausas para respirar um pouco dela. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;É(s)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;o meu&lt;/span&gt; elixir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;! Nem todos os dias são bons, desde que decidimos partilhar a mesma cama, mas vivê-los contigo é maravilhoso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ao final da tarde começo a olhar o relógio impaciente, a apressar-me no trabalho. Chega a hora de sair e às vezes tenho que ficar mais um pouco... No entanto, a reacção revela-se sempre a mesma: Despeço-me dos companheiros. Saio quase a correr. Carrego no botão do elevador. Despeço-me das caras familiares que encontro e dos recepcionistas sempre sorridentes. Perco o fôlego até apanhar o metro. Atravesso uns quantos sinais. Rio-me olhando as escadas, pensando como será o dia em que tropeçarei e cairei (com tanta pressa). Apanho o metro, cruzo-me com mais umas quantas pessoas e transporto o meu sorriso tolo na cara. Na saída sorrio ao acordeonista que me acompanha nas entradas e saídas da estação do metro &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;todos os dias&lt;/span&gt; da semana. Saio. Atravesso. Coloco a chave na porta. O botão do elevador (bolas, está outra vez lá em cima???). A porta de casa. A música que me convida a dançar. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Tu&lt;/span&gt;. Finalmente chego... aos teus braços.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pic by_MBoy535&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6313451995502934761?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6313451995502934761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6313451995502934761&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6313451995502934761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6313451995502934761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/leap-of-joy.html' title='Leap of Joy'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6dFGH7wetI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/LSI8BKG-tJE/s72-c/Leap_of_Joy_by_MBoy535.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4109438094333044653</id><published>2008-02-06T18:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:54.769+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>(In)Existência</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6nn137wexI/AAAAAAAAAsw/PJ68Q3kbjAY/s1600-h/la_distancia_by_sextoprepa.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163913360490658578" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6nn137wexI/AAAAAAAAAsw/PJ68Q3kbjAY/s320/la_distancia_by_sextoprepa.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não existem folhas suficientes para descrever o seu beijo,&lt;br /&gt;o sabor da sua pele.&lt;br /&gt;Não existem pincéis divinamente precisos que desenhem as suas formas sublimes.&lt;br /&gt;Não existem músicas suficientemente belas que o cantem a si.&lt;br /&gt;Não existe um perfume tão doce&lt;br /&gt;como o cheiro do seu corpo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;não existe nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;que se lhe possa comparar.&lt;br /&gt;Pois só uma coisa existe&lt;br /&gt;que o supere:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Ele&lt;/span&gt;, que, &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;existe&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_sextoprepa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4109438094333044653?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4109438094333044653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4109438094333044653&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4109438094333044653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4109438094333044653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/inexistncia.html' title='(In)Existência'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6nn137wexI/AAAAAAAAAsw/PJ68Q3kbjAY/s72-c/la_distancia_by_sextoprepa.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6211204980324093440</id><published>2008-02-05T16:43:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:54.986+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>Your heart makes me feel...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6iYfX7wewI/AAAAAAAAAso/abiztk2FpIY/s1600-h/your_heart_makes_me_feel_by_popsongs.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163544637548296962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6iYfX7wewI/AAAAAAAAAso/abiztk2FpIY/s320/your_heart_makes_me_feel_by_popsongs.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6iFCH7wevI/AAAAAAAAAsg/nO_Vx1i3NR4/s1600-h/dar_amor.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Eu:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Humpf!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Pensei que era uma &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;carta de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;amor&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Ele:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Essas escrevo-as &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;todas as noites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;com &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;os meus braços &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;à tua volta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;(Sim, mesmo com o passar do tempo, continuo a corar quando me soltas frases e cartas destas.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic by_popsongs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6211204980324093440?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6211204980324093440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6211204980324093440&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6211204980324093440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6211204980324093440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/your-heart-makes-me-feel.html' title='Your heart makes me feel...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6iYfX7wewI/AAAAAAAAAso/abiztk2FpIY/s72-c/your_heart_makes_me_feel_by_popsongs.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5948548452014867005</id><published>2008-02-01T16:52:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:55.089+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>D(V)esp(t)e-me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6dErn7wesI/AAAAAAAAAsI/oXLybTH6ROc/s1600-h/Over_just_a_Little____by_KillaFrosty.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163171014048250562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6dErn7wesI/AAAAAAAAAsI/oXLybTH6ROc/s320/Over_just_a_Little____by_KillaFrosty.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6NBBn7wepI/AAAAAAAAArs/ysNCWGoD5tw/s1600-h/Over_just_a_Little____by_KillaFrosty.jpeg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anda cá.&lt;br /&gt;Mais,&lt;br /&gt;mais perto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tira-me a roupa engomada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já é fim-de-semana!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durante dois dias&lt;br /&gt;a única peça que quero vestir&lt;br /&gt;é aquela que me envolve&lt;br /&gt;todas as noites:&lt;br /&gt;- A tua pele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pic by_KillaFrosty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5948548452014867005?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5948548452014867005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5948548452014867005&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5948548452014867005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5948548452014867005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/dvespte-me.html' title='D(V)esp(t)e-me'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6dErn7wesI/AAAAAAAAAsI/oXLybTH6ROc/s72-c/Over_just_a_Little____by_KillaFrosty.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6236992880165919779</id><published>2008-01-31T12:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:55.215+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desejos'/><title type='text'>Queres?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6Mz7X7weoI/AAAAAAAAArk/RrglEBfoAeo/s1600-h/A_mujer_desnuda_cuento_mi_propio_cuento.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162026693026675330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6Mz7X7weoI/AAAAAAAAArk/RrglEBfoAeo/s320/A_mujer_desnuda_cuento_mi_propio_cuento.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6Mz7X7weoI/AAAAAAAAArk/RrglEBfoAeo/s1600-h/A_mujer_desnuda_cuento_mi_propio_cuento.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;"Queres partilhar as tuas madrugadas comigo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Partilhá-las ou sê-las?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Recriá-las, sê-las;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;reconhecer no outro a premência de cada madrugada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quero as tuas madrugadas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;os céus hesitantes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;os instantes prementes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;os momentos decisivos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Diz-me a noite com a ponta da língua,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;escreve-a a saliva nos meus lábios vaginais,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;deixa-me vê-la pelo terceiro olho do meu corpo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É precisamente a apologia do hedonismo que escrevo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;E é novamente a apologia do hedonismo que me devolves,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;enquanto te contorces, molhada,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;a cada palavra que os meus lábios&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;desenham no meio das tuas pernas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;A forma como abres o teu corpo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;como o magnetizas para que eu caia dentro de ti,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;torna-te herética no mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;e imbuída de divindade no espaço sagrado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;do movimento do meu corpo no teu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;E o movimento das tuas ancas,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;quando te abandonas à cegueira líquida da minha saliva,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;reescreve cada ponto,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;cada vírgula,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;cada traço de desejo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;de exaustão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;e sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;de recomeço...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;O interior da palavra é uma vulva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;que cospe quando lhe tocas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Adoro a forma como tocas as palavras...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;faz-me pensar nas tuas mãos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;na forma como tocam &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;na tua boca,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;na forma como toca,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;na forma como a tua saliva se estende pelo corpo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;E, uma vez mais, a imagem de quando abres as pernas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;e há uma história de prazer, luxúria e hedonismo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;que a minha boca escreve no meio de ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Quero-te! Nua, contra uma parede.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Meter-me dentro de ti. Ter-te."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Texto original de gastriv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6236992880165919779?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6236992880165919779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6236992880165919779&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6236992880165919779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6236992880165919779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/02/queres.html' title='Queres?'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6Mz7X7weoI/AAAAAAAAArk/RrglEBfoAeo/s72-c/A_mujer_desnuda_cuento_mi_propio_cuento.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5039971301317343097</id><published>2008-01-30T16:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:55.383+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Momentos'/><title type='text'>I Can ('t) See</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6CblH7wekI/AAAAAAAAArA/vSOewUN7BVM/s1600-h/I_CAN_SEE_by_ilovexueling.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161296235053742658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6CblH7wekI/AAAAAAAAArA/vSOewUN7BVM/s320/I_CAN_SEE_by_ilovexueling.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Am I blind?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If you’re not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?&lt;br /&gt;If you’re not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?&lt;br /&gt;If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call?&lt;br /&gt;If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand at all ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never know what the future brings&lt;br /&gt;But I know you are here with me now&lt;br /&gt;We’ll make it through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hope you are the one&lt;br /&gt;I share my life with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want to run away but&lt;br /&gt;I can’t take it,&lt;br /&gt;I don’t understand…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I’m not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?&lt;br /&gt;Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?&lt;br /&gt;If I don’t need you then why am I crying on my bed?&lt;br /&gt;If I don’t need you then why does your name resound in my head? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(…) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know why you’re so far away&lt;br /&gt;But I know that this much is true&lt;br /&gt;We’ll make it through &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(…).”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Music: Daniel Bedingfield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pic by_ilovexueling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5039971301317343097?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5039971301317343097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5039971301317343097&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5039971301317343097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5039971301317343097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-can-t-see.html' title='I Can (&apos;t) See'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R6CblH7wekI/AAAAAAAAArA/vSOewUN7BVM/s72-c/I_CAN_SEE_by_ilovexueling.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2149522842161305453</id><published>2008-01-28T16:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:55.642+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Togetherness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R53-EH7wejI/AAAAAAAAAq4/Ds_NJj7RYqQ/s1600-h/Togetherness_by_Milui_Lhunhen.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160560094839077426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R53-EH7wejI/AAAAAAAAAq4/Ds_NJj7RYqQ/s320/Togetherness_by_Milui_Lhunhen.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quando me ENVOLVES o corpo dessa forma tentaculosa&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que sinto, vivo, respiro é pura MAGIA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O teu peito quente colado ao meu&lt;br /&gt;Provoca-me arrepios na espinha dorsal,&lt;br /&gt;ESTREMEÇO, sorrio, agarro-te com mais força.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penteias-me o cabelo com os dedos,&lt;br /&gt;Em gestos suaves e delicados.&lt;br /&gt;A minha cabeça encaixa na cova do teu ombro,&lt;br /&gt;Tal como todos os nossos membros se encaixam na PERFEIÇÃO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspiro, expiro, suspiro...&lt;br /&gt;Observo-te...&lt;br /&gt;com um olhar EMBEVECIDO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fecho os olhos...&lt;br /&gt;Abro-os...&lt;br /&gt;Fecho...&lt;br /&gt;Abro-os mais lentamente...&lt;br /&gt;Cerram-se.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... E...&lt;br /&gt;Chego ao paraíso,&lt;br /&gt;adormecida nos TEUS braços.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic by_Milui_Lhunhen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2149522842161305453?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2149522842161305453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2149522842161305453&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2149522842161305453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2149522842161305453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/togetherness.html' title='Togetherness'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R53-EH7wejI/AAAAAAAAAq4/Ds_NJj7RYqQ/s72-c/Togetherness_by_Milui_Lhunhen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4122178091406144438</id><published>2008-01-25T11:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:55.730+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Questões'/><title type='text'>Exhale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5m5cn7weeI/AAAAAAAAAqM/qpyamvk0Nrw/s1600-h/Exhale_____by_Ursylla.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159358749536713186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5m5cn7weeI/AAAAAAAAAqM/qpyamvk0Nrw/s320/Exhale_____by_Ursylla.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O que é sonho ou realidade?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breathe out...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Expire...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breathe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pic by_Ursylla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4122178091406144438?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4122178091406144438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4122178091406144438&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4122178091406144438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4122178091406144438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/exhale.html' title='Exhale'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5m5cn7weeI/AAAAAAAAAqM/qpyamvk0Nrw/s72-c/Exhale_____by_Ursylla.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7059336534131929351</id><published>2008-01-24T16:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:55.859+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amour'/><title type='text'>ONE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5iyDX7wecI/AAAAAAAAAp8/0N8kZlBBEug/s1600-h/_one_by_stillempathy.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159069144186911170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5iyDX7wecI/AAAAAAAAAp8/0N8kZlBBEug/s320/_one_by_stillempathy.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;You’re my best&lt;/span&gt; breakfast,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;cuando abro mis ojos&lt;br /&gt;por la mañana&lt;br /&gt;y te miro adormecido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Man,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;you’re&lt;/span&gt; really &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;the ONE&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_stillempathy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7059336534131929351?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7059336534131929351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7059336534131929351&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7059336534131929351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7059336534131929351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/one.html' title='ONE'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5iyDX7wecI/AAAAAAAAAp8/0N8kZlBBEug/s72-c/_one_by_stillempathy.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4075373068394388946</id><published>2008-01-23T14:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:56.059+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>(dois) 1 + 1 = 1 (uno)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5c7gn7weVI/AAAAAAAAApE/swPRI3pbxyY/s1600-h/9bd03742c2f4d778.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158657329837668690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5c7gn7weVI/AAAAAAAAApE/swPRI3pbxyY/s320/9bd03742c2f4d778.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando me dizes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amo-te!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toda e qualquer&lt;br /&gt;parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;estremece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soam músicas sublimes nos meus ouvidos,&lt;br /&gt;e sinto o eco da tua voz  penetrante aquecer-me&lt;br /&gt;e esse calor a tocar-me, a entrar dentro de mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto as tuas mãos de mágico&lt;br /&gt;puxarem-me contra o teu peito&lt;br /&gt;e esse toque a beijar-me&lt;br /&gt;com a doçura exótica dos teus lábios.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Numa dança frenética sinto essa melodia percorrer-me.&lt;br /&gt;Cada pedaço do meu corpo fica desconcertado;&lt;br /&gt;movimentos de hip-pop, rock, raggae, jazz, cha-cha-cha...&lt;br /&gt;explosões de fogo de artifício, serpentinas e estrelinhas brilhantes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acelera e acalma&lt;br /&gt;o meu peito&lt;br /&gt;em compassos alternados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abro os olhos que cerrei no teu peito,&lt;br /&gt;Solto-te o tronco que agarrava com força&lt;br /&gt;e, movo as mãos, abraço-te a cara,&lt;br /&gt;olho-te nos olhos, sorrio e digo-te:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Amo-te! Amo-te muito, também.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pic by_Ursylla&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4075373068394388946?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4075373068394388946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4075373068394388946&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4075373068394388946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4075373068394388946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/dois-1-1-1-uno.html' title='(dois) 1 + 1 = 1 (uno)'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5c7gn7weVI/AAAAAAAAApE/swPRI3pbxyY/s72-c/9bd03742c2f4d778.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-534395587016335575</id><published>2008-01-19T18:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:56.375+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><title type='text'>Literatura</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5d0Nn7webI/AAAAAAAAAp0/QZZijGesX7Y/s1600-h/escrever_carta-749929.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158719675582937522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5d0Nn7webI/AAAAAAAAAp0/QZZijGesX7Y/s320/escrever_carta-749929.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há livros que  escrevemos sem que sejam necessárias palavras para tal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_ anúncio publicitário "Post"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-534395587016335575?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/534395587016335575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=534395587016335575&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/534395587016335575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/534395587016335575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/literatura.html' title='Literatura'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5d0Nn7webI/AAAAAAAAAp0/QZZijGesX7Y/s72-c/escrever_carta-749929.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-6338160628601242077</id><published>2008-01-17T17:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:56.490+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5DU89zTGqI/AAAAAAAAAos/gb9PMNl9yXQ/s1600-h/amor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156855717186181794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5DU89zTGqI/AAAAAAAAAos/gb9PMNl9yXQ/s320/amor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não existe forma possível de quantificar o amor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;cada dia que passa te AMO mais&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A cada toque, gesto,sorriso,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cheiro novo que descubro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me derreto, me encanto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mais contigo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-6338160628601242077?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/6338160628601242077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=6338160628601242077&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6338160628601242077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/6338160628601242077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/amor.html' title='Amor'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R5DU89zTGqI/AAAAAAAAAos/gb9PMNl9yXQ/s72-c/amor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4605670843124823516</id><published>2008-01-15T15:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:56.598+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Páginas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4zFX9zTGmI/AAAAAAAAAoM/IUJFOZS1NBI/s1600-h/sem+tÃ&amp;shy;tulo..bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155712688949762658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4zFX9zTGmI/AAAAAAAAAoM/IUJFOZS1NBI/s320/sem+t%C3%ADtulo..bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4zDVtzTGlI/AAAAAAAAAoE/CUH6SP95c-E/s1600-h/sem+tÃ&amp;shy;tulo..bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Novembro. À beira-mar, sozinhos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tentou-nos o pecado: olhaste-me... e pecámos;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E o fim do Outono desfolhava os roseirais vizinhos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meu amor, na vez primeira em que nos abraçámos... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Veio o Inverno. Porém, sentada em teus joelhos,&lt;br /&gt;Envolvi-te os tornozelos com os pés e calor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nua, presos aos teus os meus lábios vermelhos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ardia a minha carne em flor... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Verão. As certezas que tinhas tornaram-se pedacinhos,&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto dourava o sol de Junho a areia dos caminhos.&lt;br /&gt;Tentaste arrumar os teus cacos e procuraste-me de peito aberto&lt;br /&gt;E, assim, plantámos a primeira flor nesse deserto. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Este Outubro, minha Primavera.&lt;br /&gt;Tornaste-te real, grande quimera.&lt;br /&gt;Um sorriso aberto em tudo, um aroma de rosmaninhos,&lt;br /&gt;Os ramos numa palpitação de flores e de ninhos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tantos dias, meses e estações&lt;br /&gt;Alguns anos, momentos, frio e calor.&lt;br /&gt;Tantas lágrimas, sorrisos e emoções&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tantos caminhos para te encontrar, meu amor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Texto adaptado a partir do poema: "Últimas páginas" de Olavo Bilac&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4605670843124823516?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4605670843124823516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4605670843124823516&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4605670843124823516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4605670843124823516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/novembro.html' title='Páginas'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4zFX9zTGmI/AAAAAAAAAoM/IUJFOZS1NBI/s72-c/sem+t%C3%ADtulo..bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8778975925216974790</id><published>2008-01-06T23:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:56.737+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Run Free</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4aOLtzTGdI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/w75H2iJRJrw/s1600-h/Run_Free_by_larafairie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4aOLtzTGdI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/w75H2iJRJrw/s400/Run_Free_by_larafairie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153963155496573394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem.&lt;br /&gt;Vamos colher sorrisos passados&lt;br /&gt;e semear novos.&lt;br /&gt;O caminho é por aqui!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_Larafairie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8778975925216974790?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8778975925216974790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8778975925216974790&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8778975925216974790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8778975925216974790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/run-free.html' title='Run Free'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4aOLtzTGdI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/w75H2iJRJrw/s72-c/Run_Free_by_larafairie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-9048536136662218174</id><published>2008-01-02T22:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:56.880+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ano Novo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4aLXdzTGcI/AAAAAAAAAmI/JGmYnz8U7Ps/s1600-h/Inquisition_by_scarlet_rouge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4aLXdzTGcI/AAAAAAAAAmI/JGmYnz8U7Ps/s400/Inquisition_by_scarlet_rouge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153960058825152962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No dia de Natal, em Portugal, costuma-se comer a roupa velha, e às vezes fica tão bem apurada que nos sabe melhor do que a ceia do dia anterior...&lt;br /&gt;Este ano,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;tenho uma prenda para ti...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ofereço-te o que de melhor ficou do ano passado&lt;br /&gt;e junto-lhe o tempero deste novo ano...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Procura-a nos teus lençóis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(sim, vim para ficar.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_Scarlett_Roug&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-9048536136662218174?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/9048536136662218174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=9048536136662218174&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/9048536136662218174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/9048536136662218174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2008/01/ano-novo.html' title='Ano Novo'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R4aLXdzTGcI/AAAAAAAAAmI/JGmYnz8U7Ps/s72-c/Inquisition_by_scarlet_rouge.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-9031363196248099005</id><published>2007-12-31T12:55:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.048+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3jjUtzTGZI/AAAAAAAAAlw/t7TcxkresGs/s1600-h/Flight+by_larafairie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3jjUtzTGZI/AAAAAAAAAlw/t7TcxkresGs/s400/Flight+by_larafairie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150116118929807762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há quem defenda que a nossa vida se vai dividindo em vários ciclos de anos. A minha teve um ciclo bastante marcante nos três últimos que passaram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2007 foi essencialmente um ano de mudança, para mim. Muitas das coisas que planeei, desde há alguns anos, consegui concretizá-las. E isso deixa-me feliz.&lt;br /&gt;Como forma de reflexão, creio que foi um dos anos mais intensos que vivi. Um ano com momentos muito fortes de sofrimento, perdas inesperadas que me rasgaram o peito, das quais tento guardar os momentos de alegria que partilhámos.&lt;br /&gt;Foi um ano em que mudei duas vezes de cidade, uma delas inclui também uma mudança de país e idioma. A nível laboral consegui embarcar num projecto há muito desejado, aqui, entre &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nuestros hermanos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um ano onde quase tinha desistido de lutar por um amor forte, que, por vezes, mais parecia uma utopia onde as forças se estavam a perder devido a diversas contrariedades e barreiras... Um ano onde esse laço, quase perdido pelo vento, viu uma mão forte agarrá-lo, e subitamente eram quatro mãos, dois peitos encostados.&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes penso numa personagem com a qual sonhei durante anos, apaixonei-me por essa personagem idílica e à parte do significado que outras relações tiveram na minha vida, coexistia esse meu amor secreto por essa personagem existente apenas nos meus sonhos... Até que conheci a pessoa que amo, com quem partilho a minha vida agora, e... Bummm! Tive um medo enorme de tudo o que me fazia sentir, ele era aquela personagem que me acompanhou durante anos, era com ele que sonhava... Bizarro.&lt;br /&gt;O mais curioso é que, com o passar do tempo, com o avançar do conhecimento o sentimento que tinha por ele ia crescendo, e do fascínio foi brotando o amor. Nele encontrei-me, e a cada dia que passa o amo mais. A cada dia que passa nos sentimos mais fortes e vivemos este novo caminho de mão dadas.&lt;br /&gt;De 2007 tento esquecer o sofrimento e guardo estas pedras preciosas que partilho com vocês.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_larafairie's&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-9031363196248099005?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/9031363196248099005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=9031363196248099005&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/9031363196248099005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/9031363196248099005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/12/goodbye-2007.html' title='Goodbye 2007'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3jjUtzTGZI/AAAAAAAAAlw/t7TcxkresGs/s72-c/Flight+by_larafairie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8191296249482909688</id><published>2007-12-23T15:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.249+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3j3GdzTGbI/AAAAAAAAAmA/wwVgZoqJv-8/s1600-h/rd14_by_randalldefined.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3j3GdzTGbI/AAAAAAAAAmA/wwVgZoqJv-8/s400/rd14_by_randalldefined.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150137864349227442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes o que vivemos é tão intenso que tenho um medo enorme de o perder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_Randalldefined&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8191296249482909688?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8191296249482909688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8191296249482909688&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8191296249482909688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8191296249482909688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/12/s-vezes-o-que-vivemos-to-intenso-que.html' title=''/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3j3GdzTGbI/AAAAAAAAAmA/wwVgZoqJv-8/s72-c/rd14_by_randalldefined.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4957112508308263706</id><published>2007-12-10T20:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.384+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Ray of Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3FUY9zTGWI/AAAAAAAAAlY/13cij631QKQ/s1600-h/Ray_of_Light_by_mirc3a2001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3FUY9zTGWI/AAAAAAAAAlY/13cij631QKQ/s400/Ray_of_Light_by_mirc3a2001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147988636944505186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há coisas que nem precisavam de ser verbalizadas,&lt;br /&gt;pois tu dizes-mas no silêncio das tuas palavras&lt;br /&gt;e na intensidade dos teus gestos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_mirc3a20&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4957112508308263706?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4957112508308263706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4957112508308263706&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4957112508308263706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4957112508308263706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/12/ray-of-light.html' title='Ray of Light'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R3FUY9zTGWI/AAAAAAAAAlY/13cij631QKQ/s72-c/Ray_of_Light_by_mirc3a2001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-503055425532286038</id><published>2007-12-03T13:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.576+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>My Love...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R1lBUmm_WEI/AAAAAAAAAk4/SyXU3Dw67Dw/s1600-h/pic+by_Dahlia666%27s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141212271837403202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R1lBUmm_WEI/AAAAAAAAAk4/SyXU3Dw67Dw/s400/pic+by_Dahlia666%27s.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Know that you're here,&lt;br /&gt;only with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pic by_Dahlia666's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-503055425532286038?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/503055425532286038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=503055425532286038&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/503055425532286038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/503055425532286038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-love.html' title='My Love...'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R1lBUmm_WEI/AAAAAAAAAk4/SyXU3Dw67Dw/s72-c/pic+by_Dahlia666%27s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7120635320842478094</id><published>2007-11-30T11:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.651+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Suffering'/><title type='text'>Love is also Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R1KL1Wm_WCI/AAAAAAAAAkc/DQYyWW8OEj0/s1600-R/Bare_Reality_II_by_funkyphotographer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139323873501599778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R1KL1Wm_WCI/AAAAAAAAAkc/SKLGQQuMTSU/s400/Bare_Reality_II_by_funkyphotographer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Pergunto-me até quando me deixarei consumir pelos fantasmas do passado...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho receio de perder a Felicidade que me oferece devido aos receios que me têm acompanhado desde que ele chegou às minhas noites.&lt;br /&gt;Quando sonhamos com algo que nos parece difícil de alcançar, sonhamos com esperança e agarramos com todas as forças cada migalha que nos revela o caminho para lá... Nunca julgando, no entanto, que chegaremos a essa morada idílica.&lt;br /&gt;Mas um dia atiram-nos um pedaço atado a uma fita vermelha, para que não restem dúvidas de que essa morada é para nós. E é aí, com a concretização de um sonho, que começamos a ter medo de um dia acordarmos e vermos que poderá não ser real. Às vezes tenho medo que tanta felicidade, como a que vivemos não tenha uma continuidade longa. Curioso... Ao longo destes anos, desde que o conheci, queria apenas tê-lo comigo. E, agora, que aqui estou, encontrada nos seus braços, o que sinto é tão mais forte ainda e tão verdadeiro que os medos que se criam atingem dimensões muito maiores.&lt;br /&gt;Pois... É quando se têm algumas certezas que vêm de novo todas as incertezas, medos e receios...&lt;br /&gt;Será mesmo o meu lugar aqui?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_funkyphotographer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7120635320842478094?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7120635320842478094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7120635320842478094&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7120635320842478094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7120635320842478094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/love-is-also-pain.html' title='Love is also Pain'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R1KL1Wm_WCI/AAAAAAAAAkc/SKLGQQuMTSU/s72-c/Bare_Reality_II_by_funkyphotographer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5944067422790170429</id><published>2007-11-27T00:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T10:57:53.395+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits - November</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param value="http://youtube.com/v/JeAP1KyPDzM" name="movie"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://youtube.com/v/JeAP1KyPDzM" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"No shadow no stars&lt;br /&gt;no moon no cars&lt;br /&gt;November&lt;br /&gt;it only believes&lt;br /&gt;in a pile of dead leaves&lt;br /&gt;and a moon&lt;br /&gt;that's the color of bone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No prayers for November&lt;br /&gt;to linger longer&lt;br /&gt;stick your spoon in the wall&lt;br /&gt;we'll slaughter them all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November has tied me&lt;br /&gt;to an old dead tree&lt;br /&gt;get word to April&lt;br /&gt;to rescue me&lt;br /&gt;November's cold chain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made of wet boots and rain&lt;br /&gt;and shiny black ravens&lt;br /&gt;on chimney smoke lanes&lt;br /&gt;November seems odd&lt;br /&gt;you're my firing squad&lt;br /&gt;November&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my hair slicked back&lt;br /&gt;with carrion shellac&lt;br /&gt;with the blood from a pheasant&lt;br /&gt;and the bone from a hare&lt;br /&gt;tied to the branches&lt;br /&gt;of a roebuck stag&lt;br /&gt;left to wave in the timber&lt;br /&gt;like a buck shot flag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go away you rainsnout&lt;br /&gt;go away blow your brains out&lt;br /&gt;November..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5944067422790170429?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5944067422790170429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5944067422790170429&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5944067422790170429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5944067422790170429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/tom-waits-november.html' title='Tom Waits - November'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-5780501542632788184</id><published>2007-11-26T01:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.801+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Suffering'/><title type='text'>Chagas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0oMvOErFrI/AAAAAAAAAjo/-EKUWyQUdaQ/s1600-h/Freedom__by_karlneo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0oMvOErFrI/AAAAAAAAAjo/-EKUWyQUdaQ/s400/Freedom__by_karlneo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136932330340554418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentimentos de revolta,&lt;br /&gt;agarrados ao corpo&lt;br /&gt;que nos consomem mais&lt;br /&gt;do que o gás dos isqueiros.&lt;br /&gt;Uma dor que se crava na pele,&lt;br /&gt;de dentro para fora.&lt;br /&gt;Uma explosão&lt;br /&gt;em fase de combustão.&lt;br /&gt;Queria despir-me da pele&lt;br /&gt;e despir-te a tua, também.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que nos crava o peito&lt;br /&gt;ficaria para trás,&lt;br /&gt;e juntos faríamos (re)nascer&lt;br /&gt;uma nova casca,&lt;br /&gt;repleta de emoções boas&lt;br /&gt;e com a frescura de uma nova vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_karlneo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-5780501542632788184?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/5780501542632788184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=5780501542632788184&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5780501542632788184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/5780501542632788184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/chagas.html' title='Chagas'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0oMvOErFrI/AAAAAAAAAjo/-EKUWyQUdaQ/s72-c/Freedom__by_karlneo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-1264334892955205614</id><published>2007-11-24T00:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:57.908+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Músicas e letras'/><title type='text'>Bésame Mucho</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/Ry-roAwthGI/AAAAAAAAAho/0LGmzCvcT3Q/s1600-h/A_Lily_Among_Thorns_II_by_epinephrine_eyes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129507204485710946" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/Ry-roAwthGI/AAAAAAAAAho/0LGmzCvcT3Q/s400/A_Lily_Among_Thorns_II_by_epinephrine_eyes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"Bésame, bésame mucho,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como si fuera esta noche&lt;/div&gt;La última vez&lt;br /&gt;Bésame mucho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que tengo miedo&lt;/div&gt;Perderte, perderte otra vez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quiero tenerte muy cerca,&lt;/div&gt;Mirarme en tus ojos,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Verte junto a mí,&lt;/div&gt;Piensa que tal vez mañana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ya estaré lejos,&lt;/div&gt;Muy lejos de ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame, bésame mucho,&lt;/div&gt;Como si fuera esta noche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;La última vez,&lt;/div&gt;Bésame mucho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que tengo miedo&lt;/div&gt;Perderte, perderte otra vez. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Consuelo Velázquez&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pic by_epinephrine_eyes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-1264334892955205614?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/1264334892955205614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=1264334892955205614&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1264334892955205614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/1264334892955205614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/bsame-mucho.html' title='Bésame Mucho'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/Ry-roAwthGI/AAAAAAAAAho/0LGmzCvcT3Q/s72-c/A_Lily_Among_Thorns_II_by_epinephrine_eyes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-563683255611611128</id><published>2007-11-23T21:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:58.021+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Suffering'/><title type='text'>Vazio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0c0HOErFnI/AAAAAAAAAjA/KSJ9P_Uob3U/s1600-h/Fake_reality_by_pinkarol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0c0HOErFnI/AAAAAAAAAjA/KSJ9P_Uob3U/s400/Fake_reality_by_pinkarol.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136131198680766066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só queria que o tempo voltasse atrás...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E conseguisse apagar as acções que provocam este vazio, esta dor, esta revolta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_Pinkarol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-563683255611611128?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/563683255611611128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=563683255611611128&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/563683255611611128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/563683255611611128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/s-queria-que-o-tempo-voltasse-atrs.html' title='Vazio'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0c0HOErFnI/AAAAAAAAAjA/KSJ9P_Uob3U/s72-c/Fake_reality_by_pinkarol.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8274691207331310185</id><published>2007-11-23T19:58:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T19:58:01.747+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Blind Zero - The Downset Is Tonight (Official Videoclip)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/WWCp37AkVok' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/WWCp37AkVok'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Secrecy&lt;br /&gt;Life on the wire&lt;br /&gt;Joy in my weakest hour&lt;br /&gt;A gas lit scent on the garden of haze&lt;br /&gt;The excitement from the dawning is leading the way, tonight&lt;br /&gt;I wish to crash, so fire would give me wings&lt;br /&gt;Time flies with me&lt;br /&gt;Mist stardust joins the lust&lt;br /&gt;The down set is tonight&lt;br /&gt;Blow me away&lt;br /&gt;I might undercover my downfall delight&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I'm blowing away&lt;br /&gt;Picture yourself lying on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Licking wounds on glass&lt;br /&gt;I'll be, tonight&lt;br /&gt;On the egde of the blade&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I die where safe-standing lives&lt;br /&gt;The down set is tonight&lt;br /&gt;Blow me away&lt;br /&gt;I might undercover my downfall delight&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I'm blowing away&lt;br /&gt;I keep driving&lt;br /&gt;The down set is tonight&lt;br /&gt;To my delight&lt;br /&gt;To blow away tonight"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8274691207331310185?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8274691207331310185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8274691207331310185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8274691207331310185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8274691207331310185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/blind-zero-downset-is-tonight-official.html' title='Blind Zero - The Downset Is Tonight (Official Videoclip)'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-4316450729966024981</id><published>2007-11-21T17:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:58.338+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Suffering'/><title type='text'>The Reaper</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0Rc0eErFlI/AAAAAAAAAiw/obLDw6MPWT0/s1600-h/Kayuki_the_Reaper_3_by_Kaedin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135331531604825682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0Rc0eErFlI/AAAAAAAAAiw/obLDw6MPWT0/s400/Kayuki_the_Reaper_3_by_Kaedin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pic by_Kaedin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0RcjuErFkI/AAAAAAAAAio/B6xhEPbqYpU/s1600-h/Pain_by_Pritography.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135331243842016834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0RcjuErFkI/AAAAAAAAAio/B6xhEPbqYpU/s400/Pain_by_Pritography.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pain_by_Pritography&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0RcHeErFjI/AAAAAAAAAig/PRbVaowgx74/s1600-h/The_pupil_of_the_Death_by_Ka_ren.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135330758510712370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0RcHeErFjI/AAAAAAAAAig/PRbVaowgx74/s400/The_pupil_of_the_Death_by_Ka_ren.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pic_by_Ka_ren&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ceifeira de sorrisos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cobiça os nossos momentos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;efémeros de felicidade,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;esconde-se em cada canto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e prepara armadilhas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um dia chega,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cheia de forças armazenadas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e leva-nos as nossas jóias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mais preciosas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como oferenda&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;deixa-nos apenas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as recordações&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;desses momentos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uma saudade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que quase nos faz rebentar o peito.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-4316450729966024981?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/4316450729966024981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=4316450729966024981&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4316450729966024981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/4316450729966024981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/reaper.html' title='The Reaper'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/R0Rc0eErFlI/AAAAAAAAAiw/obLDw6MPWT0/s72-c/Kayuki_the_Reaper_3_by_Kaedin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-2722797402698927252</id><published>2007-11-08T23:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:58.445+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Touch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RzOJZkzPpFI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Ag6ARQG4cR0/s1600-h/touch_by_akne5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130595472973472850" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RzOJZkzPpFI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Ag6ARQG4cR0/s400/touch_by_akne5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O céu não é azul,&lt;br /&gt;é da cor dos teus olhos.&lt;br /&gt;Verdes, com um toque de mel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_akne5&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-2722797402698927252?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/2722797402698927252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=2722797402698927252&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2722797402698927252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/2722797402698927252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/11/touch.html' title='Touch'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RzOJZkzPpFI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Ag6ARQG4cR0/s72-c/touch_by_akne5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7832358278160929360</id><published>2007-10-21T17:55:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T17:55:05.743+02:00</updated><title type='text'>PJ Harvey - This is love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/er5w5MGJSCk' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/er5w5MGJSCk'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I can't believe that life's so complex&lt;br /&gt;When I just want to sit here and watch you undress&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that life's so complex&lt;br /&gt;When I just want to sit here and watch you undress&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it have to be a life full of dread&lt;br /&gt;I wanna chase you round the table, I wanna touch your head&lt;br /&gt;Does it have to be a life full of dread&lt;br /&gt;I wanna chase you round the table, I wanna touch your head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that the axis turns on suffering&lt;br /&gt;When you taste so good&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that the axis turns on suffering&lt;br /&gt;When my head burns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, love, love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, love, love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even in the summer&lt;br /&gt;Even in the spring&lt;br /&gt;You can never get too much of&lt;br /&gt;A wonderful thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the only story that I never told&lt;br /&gt;You're my dirty little secret, wanna keep you so&lt;br /&gt;You're the only story that never been told&lt;br /&gt;You're my dirty little secret, wanna keep you so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on out, come on over, help me forget&lt;br /&gt;Keep the walls from falling as they're tumbling in&lt;br /&gt;Come on out, come on over, help me forget&lt;br /&gt;Keep the walls from falling on me, tumbling in&lt;br /&gt;Keep the walls from falling as they're tumbling in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, this is love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling&lt;br /&gt;This is love, love, love&lt;br /&gt;That I'm feeling."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7832358278160929360?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7832358278160929360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7832358278160929360&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7832358278160929360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7832358278160929360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/10/pj-harvey-this-is-love.html' title='PJ Harvey - This is love'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7629895792223171967</id><published>2007-10-16T20:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:58.632+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>Minder</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RxT_gWMGZxI/AAAAAAAAAgA/chLP8bPFDrw/s1600-h/Minder_by_Stefano83.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121999607404324626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RxT_gWMGZxI/AAAAAAAAAgA/chLP8bPFDrw/s400/Minder_by_Stefano83.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abro o peito&lt;br /&gt;como pétalas&lt;br /&gt;de uma flor a desabrochar&lt;br /&gt;nos primeiros dias de Primavera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os braços estico-os&lt;br /&gt;com mais flexibilidade&lt;br /&gt;que a dos de um polvo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os meus pensamentos&lt;br /&gt;e os teus&lt;br /&gt;juntam-se nesta aula de aeróbica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, ensinas-me&lt;br /&gt;novos sons&lt;br /&gt;e eu ensino-te&lt;br /&gt;novos passos de dança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;És a música&lt;br /&gt;que brota de mim&lt;br /&gt;e eu sou&lt;br /&gt;a dança se move em ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pintor das minhas pautas,&lt;br /&gt;sou a bailarina do teu corpo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pic by_Stefano83&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7629895792223171967?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7629895792223171967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7629895792223171967&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7629895792223171967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7629895792223171967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/10/minder.html' title='Minder'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RxT_gWMGZxI/AAAAAAAAAgA/chLP8bPFDrw/s72-c/Minder_by_Stefano83.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-380631668391717216</id><published>2007-10-08T17:42:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:58.839+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bésame</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RwpRTjroYTI/AAAAAAAAAfw/EocU683h5Eo/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118993322897596722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RwpRTjroYTI/AAAAAAAAAfw/EocU683h5Eo/s400/images.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Bésame la boca con tu lagrima de risa,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame la luna y tapa el sol con el pulgar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Y bésame el espacio de mi cuerpo y tu silueta,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;El mar mas profundo besare en tu humedad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame el susurro que me hiciste en el oído&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa el recorrido de mis manos a tu altar,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Con agua bendita de tu fuente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame toda la frente que me bautiza y me bendice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;De esa manera de besar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mis campos y mis flores en tus gotitas de colores&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa la lluvia que resbala la ventana&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mi vida y mi ceniza y me dirás que voy deprisa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame y llega con un grito que lo logre,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa el torrente de ilusiones bésame todas las pasiones&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mi río hasta su desembocadura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mi vida y mi ceniza, me dirás que voy deprisa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mis días y mis noches mis diluvios y mi cielo a pleno sol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame los ojos aún dormido en la mañana&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame la piel con el caudal de tu estrechez&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Con agua bendita de tu fuente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame toda la frente que me bautiza&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Y me bendice de esa manera de besar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mis campos y mis flores con tus gotitas de colores&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa la lluvia que resbala la ventana&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mi vida y mi ceniza y me dirás que voy deprisa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bésame y llega con un grito que lo logre,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa el torrente de ilusiones bésame todas las pasiones&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mi río hasta su desembocadura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mi vida y mi ceniza y me dirás que voy deprisa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besa mis días y mis noches mis diluvios y mi cielo a pleno sol y mi cielo a pleno sol."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ricardo Montaner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-380631668391717216?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/380631668391717216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=380631668391717216&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/380631668391717216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/380631668391717216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/10/bsame.html' title='Bésame'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/RwpRTjroYTI/AAAAAAAAAfw/EocU683h5Eo/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-7252529845345363084</id><published>2007-09-28T01:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:27:58.962+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fall in'/><title type='text'>New dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/Rvw2ajroYQI/AAAAAAAAAfY/4narz2eoWkY/s1600-h/new_dreams_by_Wicked_Games.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115023106668781826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/Rvw2ajroYQI/AAAAAAAAAfY/4narz2eoWkY/s400/new_dreams_by_Wicked_Games.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Noites frias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mesmo no verão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorrisos quentes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;em invernos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;em que conheci teu rosto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sonhos e quase utopias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;realidades que nasceram sem se esperar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dizem-me que sou lutadora,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mesmo quando sinto os pulsos fracos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e a respiração a falhar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Segurei o cordão umbilical que nos unia,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas quando chegaste decidimos cortá-lo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e fazer nascer uma nova vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Às vezes de Noite...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;O teu toque torna-se num sonho com tacto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pic by_Wicked_Games&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-7252529845345363084?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/7252529845345363084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=7252529845345363084&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7252529845345363084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/7252529845345363084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/09/new-dreams.html' title='New dreams'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/Rvw2ajroYQI/AAAAAAAAAfY/4narz2eoWkY/s72-c/new_dreams_by_Wicked_Games.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35463002.post-8503301775963334607</id><published>2007-09-18T01:20:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T01:20:56.915+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Olá</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/15whBHP0o4A' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/15whBHP0o4A'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Olá!&lt;br /&gt;Sempre apanhaste o tal comboio?&lt;br /&gt;Eu já perdi dois ou três&lt;br /&gt;entre o ócio e as esquinas&lt;br /&gt;ganhei o vício da estrada&lt;br /&gt;nesta outra encruzilhada&lt;br /&gt;talvez agora a coisa dê&lt;br /&gt;o passado foi à história&lt;br /&gt;cá estamos nós outra vez&lt;br /&gt;Conheço a tua cara, mas não sei o teu nome&lt;br /&gt;eu escrevo já aqui, não sei o quê, arroba-ponto-com&lt;br /&gt;vou-te reencontrar noutro bar de estação&lt;br /&gt;ou talvez quando perder mais um avião&lt;br /&gt;o barco vai de saída, tu estás tão bronzeada&lt;br /&gt;é tão bom ver-te assim, ardente&lt;br /&gt;tão queimada&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero reencontrar-te noutra esquina qualquer&lt;br /&gt;sem saber o teu nome ou se ainda és mulher&lt;br /&gt;quero reconhecer-te e beber um café&lt;br /&gt;dizer-te de onde venho e perguntar-te porquê&lt;br /&gt;sorrir-te cá do fundo, subir os degraus&lt;br /&gt;eu quero dar-te um beijo&lt;br /&gt;a cinquenta e tal graus&lt;br /&gt;Sempre apanhaste o tal comboio?&lt;br /&gt;Eu já perdi dois ou três&lt;br /&gt;entre o ócio e as esquinas&lt;br /&gt;ganhei o vício da estrada&lt;br /&gt;nesta outra encruzilhada&lt;br /&gt;talvez agora a coisa dê&lt;br /&gt;o passado foi à história&lt;br /&gt;cá estamos nós outra vez&lt;br /&gt;cá estamos nós outra vez..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jorge Palma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, sim, rumo à nossa estrada, com o passado lá atrás... Cá estamos nós outra vez. Olá!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35463002-8503301775963334607?l=belovsky.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/feeds/8503301775963334607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35463002&amp;postID=8503301775963334607&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8503301775963334607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35463002/posts/default/8503301775963334607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://belovsky.blogspot.com/2007/09/ol.html' title='Olá'/><author><name>nOgS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17883968018392884144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k9nwLStsoiw/S0WYL_wSrQI/AAAAAAAAGGg/TLvLHjCLW1Q/S220/Be_Pure_by_MusaViola.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
