<?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-29068816</id><updated>2011-04-21T23:11:03.151+01:00</updated><title type='text'>memórias residuais</title><subtitle type='html'>um local de descargas fotográficas, efluentes poéticos e lamas de estados de espírito...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>93</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116068189733849639</id><published>2007-12-31T02:38:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-01-05T19:44:55.425Z</updated><title type='text'>'Every end is a new beginning.' (Yehuda)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R3hOVwl-OnI/AAAAAAAAAI8/h7OvKHNH7r8/s1600-h/100_9971.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149952309626550898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R3hOVwl-OnI/AAAAAAAAAI8/h7OvKHNH7r8/s320/100_9971.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Recomeça…&lt;br /&gt;Se puderes,&lt;br /&gt;Sem angústia e sem pressa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;E os passos que deres,&lt;br /&gt;Nesse caminho duro&lt;br /&gt;Do futuro,&lt;br /&gt;Dá-os em liberdade.&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto não alcances&lt;br /&gt;Não descanses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;De nenhum fruto queiras só metade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E, nunca saciado,&lt;br /&gt;Vai colhendo&lt;br /&gt;Ilusões sucessivas no pomar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;E vendo&lt;br /&gt;Acordado,&lt;br /&gt;O logro da aventura.&lt;br /&gt;És homem, não te esqueças!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Só é tua a loucura&lt;br /&gt;Onde, com lucidez, te reconheças.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Diário XIII, Miguel Torga)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Este blog acaba aqui [e recomeça &lt;a href="http://memoriasresiduaisii.blogspot.com"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;!].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Votos de um feliz ano a todos os que por aqui passaram.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116068189733849639?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116068189733849639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116068189733849639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/fruto-metade.html' title='&apos;Every end is a new beginning.&apos; (Yehuda)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R3hOVwl-OnI/AAAAAAAAAI8/h7OvKHNH7r8/s72-c/100_9971.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-6054071915549735121</id><published>2007-12-15T01:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-15T01:48:32.480Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R2MwoQl-OmI/AAAAAAAAAI0/EptxBaGV_wE/s1600-h/IMG_3930.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144008667594373730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R2MwoQl-OmI/AAAAAAAAAI0/EptxBaGV_wE/s320/IMG_3930.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Once there was a day &lt;div&gt;We were together all the way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;An endless path unbroken&lt;br /&gt;But now there is a time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A torture less sublime&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our souls are locked and frozen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me go...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried but could not bring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The best of everything&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Too breathless then to wonder&lt;br /&gt;I died a thousand times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Found guilty of no crime&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now everything is thunder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once we were years ahead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but now those thoughts are dead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me go&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All hopeless fantasies are making fools of me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me go&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I walk alone and yet I never say goodbye&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me go&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A change of heart a change of mind and heaven fell that night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me go&lt;br /&gt;The best years of our lives&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hope of it survives&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The facts of life unspoken&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a name="b12"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let me go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, Heaven 17)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-6054071915549735121?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/6054071915549735121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/6054071915549735121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/12/once-there-was-day-we-were-together-all.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R2MwoQl-OmI/AAAAAAAAAI0/EptxBaGV_wE/s72-c/IMG_3930.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-200424321001904679</id><published>2007-12-09T03:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-09T04:05:13.852Z</updated><title type='text'>Ojos de brujo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R1to6GwGxHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/flTHuI-Mof8/s1600-h/IMG_3629blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141818747027637362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="187" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R1to6GwGxHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/flTHuI-Mof8/s320/IMG_3629blog.jpg" width="304" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mis ojos, sin tus ojos, no son ojos,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;que son dos hormigueros solitarios&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;y son mis manos sin las tuyas varios&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;intratables espinos a manojos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No me encuentro los labios sin tus rojos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que me llenan de dulces campanarios,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sin ti mis pensamientos son calvarios&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;criando cardos y agostando hinojos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No sé qué es de mi oreja sin tu acento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ni hacia qué polo yerro sin tu estrella,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;y mi voz sin tu trato se afemina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Los olores persigo de tu viento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Y la olvidada imagen de tu huella&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que en ti principia, amor, y en mí termina.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Miguel Hernández)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-200424321001904679?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/200424321001904679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/200424321001904679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/12/ojos-de-brujo.html' title='Ojos de brujo'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R1to6GwGxHI/AAAAAAAAAIs/flTHuI-Mof8/s72-c/IMG_3629blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-5895109276834345179</id><published>2007-11-19T02:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-19T02:35:11.061Z</updated><title type='text'>Sinking...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R0D1L1jdohI/AAAAAAAAAIk/hACNVoQ8g3A/s1600-h/100_9439.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134373158905553426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R0D1L1jdohI/AAAAAAAAAIk/hACNVoQ8g3A/s320/100_9439.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;I'm sick and I'm tired &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of reasoning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just want to break out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kick off this skin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't escape myself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seems like my shadow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marks every strike&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cannot learn to live with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What stuck inside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't escape myself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So many feelings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;End up in here&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Left alone I'm with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, an atmoshere&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a name="b11"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I Can't Escape Myself&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, The Sounds)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-5895109276834345179?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/5895109276834345179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/5895109276834345179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-sick-and-im-tired-of-reasoning-just.html' title='Sinking...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/R0D1L1jdohI/AAAAAAAAAIk/hACNVoQ8g3A/s72-c/100_9439.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-19738594766979598</id><published>2007-11-17T01:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-17T01:40:53.157Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyZs-1BgGuI/AAAAAAAAAHo/hhBjyqJ8_es/s1600-h/100_9921.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126905052448955106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyZs-1BgGuI/AAAAAAAAAHo/hhBjyqJ8_es/s400/100_9921.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As nossas vidas são todas diferentes e igualmente irreparáveis. Ninguém tem razão para ser mais lastimado que o outro. Cada um tem direito de ser lastimado e de lastimar o outro. Mas não o fazemos. Temos todos um ar corajoso e a nossa presença não passa despercebida em nenhum ambiente. (…)&lt;br /&gt;Sentados à volta da mesa de café, move-nos uma fúria em esgotar o tempo com palavras. Em silêncio extinguimo-nos. É a única certeza. Sofremos por saber como cada um precisa de ajuda urgente e somos incapazes de o ajudar no que quer que seja. (…)&lt;br /&gt;Nem há ninguém que nos acuda se não suportamos ninguém. &lt;strong&gt;Sim,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;incansavelmente escavamos túneis dentro de nós para aí nos perdermos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Amigos, Pedro Paixão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-19738594766979598?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/19738594766979598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/19738594766979598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/11/as-nossas-vidas-so-todas-diferentes-e.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyZs-1BgGuI/AAAAAAAAAHo/hhBjyqJ8_es/s72-c/100_9921.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-684061656652452626</id><published>2007-11-14T01:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-17T01:37:55.915Z</updated><title type='text'>Bons feelings para recordar... e repetir!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RzpMyeTPC6I/AAAAAAAAAIc/Dz0jBjF8_eY/s1600-h/100_0231.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132499155353013154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RzpMyeTPC6I/AAAAAAAAAIc/Dz0jBjF8_eY/s320/100_0231.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Deixa de complicação,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deixa de confusão,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Liberta a alma dessa prisão,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deixa-te guiar pelo coração.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dá-me um bom feeling dentro de ti,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que eu dou-te um bom feeling dentro de mim,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bom feeling para voar,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bom feeling para motivar!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bom feeling dentro de ti,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que eu dou-te um bom feeling dentro de mim,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bom feeling para levar,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bom feeling para nos fazer sorrir.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Bom feeling, Sara Tavares)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-684061656652452626?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/684061656652452626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/684061656652452626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/11/bons-feelings-para-recordar-e-repetir.html' title='Bons feelings para recordar... e repetir!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RzpMyeTPC6I/AAAAAAAAAIc/Dz0jBjF8_eY/s72-c/100_0231.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-1821908396501682501</id><published>2007-11-01T22:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-01T22:14:26.519Z</updated><title type='text'>"Soy una droga. ¡Tómame!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RypPpFBgGzI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/q3vGpNWw9hI/s1600-h/100_9927c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127998692856437554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RypPpFBgGzI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/q3vGpNWw9hI/s320/100_9927c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hay días en que creo que voy a morir de una sobredosis de satisfacción.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Salvador Dali)&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/29068816-1821908396501682501?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/1821908396501682501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/1821908396501682501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/11/soy-una-droga-tmame.html' title='&quot;Soy una droga. ¡Tómame!&quot;'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RypPpFBgGzI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/q3vGpNWw9hI/s72-c/100_9927c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116068172329090436</id><published>2007-10-29T23:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-29T23:57:48.427Z</updated><title type='text'>Inconstant moods...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyZza1BgGxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/mHzJgrlXvAk/s1600-h/100_7683c.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126912130555058962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyZza1BgGxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/mHzJgrlXvAk/s320/100_7683c.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Coitado! que em um tempo choro e rio;&lt;br /&gt;Espero e temo, quero e aborreço;&lt;br /&gt;Juntamente me alegro e entristeço;&lt;br /&gt;Du~a cousa confio e desconfio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voo sem asas; estou cego e guio;&lt;br /&gt;E no que valho mais menos mereço.&lt;br /&gt;Calo e dou vozes, falo e emudeço,&lt;br /&gt;Nada me contradiz, e eu aporfio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria, se ser pudesse, o impossível;&lt;br /&gt;Queria poder mudar-me e estar quedo;&lt;br /&gt;Usar de liberdade e estar cativo;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria que visto fosse e invisível;&lt;br /&gt;Queira desenredar-me e mais me enredo:&lt;br /&gt;Tais os extremos em que triste vivo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Coitado! que em um tempo choro e rio, Luís de Camões)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116068172329090436?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116068172329090436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116068172329090436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/coitado-que-em-um-tempo-choro-e-rio.html' title='Inconstant moods...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyZza1BgGxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/mHzJgrlXvAk/s72-c/100_7683c.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-289361151952724117</id><published>2007-10-26T00:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T01:32:19.095+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyErGFBgGsI/AAAAAAAAAHU/xCI5fvfnKY8/s1600-h/100_9313+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125425234352020162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyErGFBgGsI/AAAAAAAAAHU/xCI5fvfnKY8/s320/100_9313+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fico Para ti&lt;/strong&gt; Como sou &lt;strong&gt;Aqui &lt;/strong&gt;espero &lt;strong&gt;Desespero&lt;/strong&gt; Como era &lt;strong&gt;Sou quem era&lt;/strong&gt; Foi assim &lt;strong&gt;Foi no tempo que passou&lt;/strong&gt; Foi sentir &lt;strong&gt;O teu olhar &lt;/strong&gt;Por mim fica quem já me chamou &lt;strong&gt;Assim&lt;/strong&gt; Era Para ti &lt;strong&gt;Como sou&lt;/strong&gt; É o tempo &lt;strong&gt;Que lamento&lt;/strong&gt; Vou esperar &lt;strong&gt;Não vou esquecer&lt;/strong&gt; Foi assim Que o tempo parou &lt;strong&gt;Num lugar em mim&lt;/strong&gt; Que p´ra ti ficou &lt;strong&gt;Estou aqui&lt;/strong&gt; No desejo Do que vi Do que vejo &lt;strong&gt;Quero saber de ti&lt;/strong&gt; P´ra voltar a ver em mim o que vi &lt;strong&gt;E não vou esquecer&lt;/strong&gt; Estou aqui &lt;strong&gt;No desejo Do que vi&lt;/strong&gt; Do que vejo &lt;strong&gt;Fico Para ti&lt;/strong&gt; Como sou&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Carta para ti, José Peixoto)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-289361151952724117?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/289361151952724117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/289361151952724117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/10/fico-para-ti-como-sou-aqui-espero_26.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RyErGFBgGsI/AAAAAAAAAHU/xCI5fvfnKY8/s72-c/100_9313+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-2693922516170475871</id><published>2007-10-17T00:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T00:24:14.043+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Impossível resistir...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RxVHl1jhBEI/AAAAAAAAAHI/BRGrwTkpII0/s1600-h/100_9846.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122078866560582722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RxVHl1jhBEI/AAAAAAAAAHI/BRGrwTkpII0/s400/100_9846.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dizem que um dia alguém cantou…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que por amores Lisboa se perdeu,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por amores se perde quem lá voltou&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por amores se perde quem lá nasceu.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dizem que um dia alguém contou…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que uma moira cativa no Tejo desceu…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por amor, Lisboa, a moira libertou,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;De amores por Lisboa a moira morreu&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Juntaram-se os telhados enfeitiçados&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apertadinhos os dois e entrelaçados&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Num fado castiço numa rua de Alfama&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o Tejo que é velho beija a Cidade…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Morre-se de amores em qualquer idade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Perde-se por Lisboa quem muito a ama!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Amo-te Lisboa Virada ao Tejo, Rogério Martins Simões)&lt;/em&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/29068816-2693922516170475871?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/2693922516170475871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/2693922516170475871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/10/impossvel-resistir.html' title='Impossível resistir...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RxVHl1jhBEI/AAAAAAAAAHI/BRGrwTkpII0/s72-c/100_9846.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-4194142302601942047</id><published>2007-10-07T02:16:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T03:41:13.929+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"(...) We always want to see what is hidden by what we see." (Magritte)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RwhGaVjhA-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/mhrz9nn8zfc/s1600-h/100_9666.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118418394783220706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RwhGaVjhA-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/mhrz9nn8zfc/s320/100_9666.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Show me your interior&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I'll share my visions&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we drink the sweet tea of truth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You'll get back to reality&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As soon as that incense stick burns out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lungs ahead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You'll spit the smoke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To make a clutter on my head&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can solve it on the way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To the bottom of my soul&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're welcome at anytime&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Blue Mood, Blasted Mechanism)&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-4194142302601942047?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/4194142302601942047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/4194142302601942047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/10/we-always-want-to-see-what-is-hidden-by.html' title='&quot;(...) We always want to see what is hidden by what we see.&quot; (Magritte)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RwhGaVjhA-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/mhrz9nn8zfc/s72-c/100_9666.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-3456208453208610162</id><published>2007-10-02T01:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T01:19:09.774+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ironies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RwGNoVjhA8I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nFBazW79q1s/s1600-h/100_9246.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116526375789986754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RwGNoVjhA8I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nFBazW79q1s/s320/100_9246.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-3456208453208610162?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/3456208453208610162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/3456208453208610162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/10/ironies.html' title='Ironies'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RwGNoVjhA8I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nFBazW79q1s/s72-c/100_9246.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-7045108597066571757</id><published>2007-09-27T02:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T02:48:34.405+01:00</updated><title type='text'>time to go home...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RvsL0VjhA4I/AAAAAAAAADQ/SBkw3lr3O5E/s1600-h/100_9390.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114694795576542082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RvsL0VjhA4I/AAAAAAAAADQ/SBkw3lr3O5E/s320/100_9390.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every day there's a boy in the mirror asking me... What are you doing here?&lt;br /&gt;Finding all my previous motives growing increasingly unclear.&lt;br /&gt;I've traveled far and I've burned all the bridges&lt;br /&gt;I believed as soon as I hit land&lt;br /&gt;all the other options held before me, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;would wither in the light of my plan.&lt;br /&gt;So I'll lose some sales and my boss won't be happy,&lt;br /&gt;but there's only one thing on my mind&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;searching boxes underneath the counter,&lt;br /&gt;on a chance that on a tape I'd find a song&lt;br /&gt;for someone who needs somewhere to long for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homesick.&lt;br /&gt;Because I no longer know where home is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Homesick, Kings of Convenience)&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/29068816-7045108597066571757?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7045108597066571757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7045108597066571757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/09/time-to-go-home.html' title='time to go home...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RvsL0VjhA4I/AAAAAAAAADQ/SBkw3lr3O5E/s72-c/100_9390.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-7764045988524548854</id><published>2007-09-20T02:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T02:53:27.066+01:00</updated><title type='text'>mood reflections...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RvsND1jhA5I/AAAAAAAAADY/ZKntvrSaamc/s1600-h/100_9164.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114696161376142226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RvsND1jhA5I/AAAAAAAAADY/ZKntvrSaamc/s320/100_9164.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/29068816-7764045988524548854?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7764045988524548854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7764045988524548854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/09/mood-reflections.html' title='mood reflections...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RvsND1jhA5I/AAAAAAAAADY/ZKntvrSaamc/s72-c/100_9164.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-372362300944409960</id><published>2007-09-10T19:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T23:52:52.960+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Em dia de bodas de papoila (saltitante)...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RuWMvAImF_I/AAAAAAAAACo/DnaBo-BLvrU/s1600-h/100_0844.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108644091439486962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RuWMvAImF_I/AAAAAAAAACo/DnaBo-BLvrU/s320/100_0844.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tenho na alma uma chama imensa :)&lt;br /&gt;Que dizer...? I believe in miracles!&lt;br /&gt;Feliz dia, you sexy thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-372362300944409960?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/372362300944409960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/372362300944409960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/09/em-dia-de-bodas-de-papoila.html' title='Em dia de bodas de papoila (saltitante)...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RuWMvAImF_I/AAAAAAAAACo/DnaBo-BLvrU/s72-c/100_0844.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-7328934900290827858</id><published>2007-08-29T23:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T23:33:10.673+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RtXzUAImF-I/AAAAAAAAACg/lsG1UQqTaS8/s1600-h/100_8550.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104253277653309410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RtXzUAImF-I/AAAAAAAAACg/lsG1UQqTaS8/s320/100_8550.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;'Chega de Saudade' is considered the first Bossa Nova song. Composed by Antonio Carlos Jobim (music) and Vinícius de Moraes (lyrics) it became popular in the interpretation by João Gilberto. (…)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The title can be translated roughly as 'enough longing', though the Portuguese word 'saudade' carries with it a far more complex meaning. The word implies intensity of heartfelt connection that is yearned for passionately; not unlike feeling withdrawal symptoms from a drug that makes one feel good. Another good analogy might be an intense homesickness. 'Chega', in this case, means no more, enough. (…)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Chega de Saudade, Wikipedia)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-7328934900290827858?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7328934900290827858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7328934900290827858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/08/enough.html' title='Enough...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RtXzUAImF-I/AAAAAAAAACg/lsG1UQqTaS8/s72-c/100_8550.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-4782329152372198451</id><published>2007-08-18T00:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T01:19:20.128+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RsYu1AImF8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/DuB6w1W9QNY/s1600-h/100_3641+Wegsteingarten.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099815116147660738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="180" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RsYu1AImF8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/DuB6w1W9QNY/s320/100_3641+Wegsteingarten.jpg" width="300" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;Summer has come and passed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The innocent can never last&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;seven years has gone so fast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;here comes the rain again &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;falling from the stars&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;drenched in my pain &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;again becoming who we are&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wake me up when september ends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Wake me up when September ends, Greenday)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-4782329152372198451?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/4782329152372198451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/4782329152372198451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/08/summer-has-come-and-passed-innocent-can.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RsYu1AImF8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/DuB6w1W9QNY/s72-c/100_3641+Wegsteingarten.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-7196025931798113439</id><published>2007-08-14T00:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T00:40:37.836+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Metaphor...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RsDrJT0kT0I/AAAAAAAAACI/f0CQji4Grys/s1600-h/100_8681+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098333323355508546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RsDrJT0kT0I/AAAAAAAAACI/f0CQji4Grys/s320/100_8681+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We never change, do we? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We never learn, do we?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(We never change, Coldplay)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-7196025931798113439?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7196025931798113439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7196025931798113439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/08/metaphor.html' title='Metaphor...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RsDrJT0kT0I/AAAAAAAAACI/f0CQji4Grys/s72-c/100_8681+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-3000515227784083486</id><published>2007-08-09T23:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T00:34:55.765+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RruXmz0kTzI/AAAAAAAAACA/62zlUum3SjY/s1600-h/100_8436+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096834096301362994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RruXmz0kTzI/AAAAAAAAACA/62zlUum3SjY/s320/100_8436+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posso ter defeitos, viver ansioso e ficar irritado algumas vezes, &lt;div&gt;mas não esqueço de que minha vida é a maior empresa do mundo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E que posso evitar que ela vá à falência.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ser feliz é reconhecer que vale a pena viver, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;apesar de todos os desafios, incompreensões e períodos de crise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ser feliz é deixar de ser vítima dos problemas &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e se tornar um autor da própria história.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É atravessar desertos fora de si,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mas ser capaz de encontrar um oásis no recôndito da sua alma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É agradecer a Deus a cada manhã pelo milagre da vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ser feliz é não ter medo dos próprios sentimentos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É saber falar de si mesmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É ter segurança para receber uma crítica, mesmo que injusta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pedras no caminho? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Guardo todas, um dia vou construir um castelo...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Ser feliz, Fernando Pessoa) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-3000515227784083486?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/3000515227784083486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/3000515227784083486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/08/posso-ter-defeitos-viver-ansioso-e.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RruXmz0kTzI/AAAAAAAAACA/62zlUum3SjY/s72-c/100_8436+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-8947237732146105736</id><published>2007-08-04T23:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T23:23:31.558+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RrT7pxCfHqI/AAAAAAAAAB4/R7neDoOfseI/s1600-h/100_7730.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094973773419847330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RrT7pxCfHqI/AAAAAAAAAB4/R7neDoOfseI/s320/100_7730.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O Universo é feito essencialmente de coisa nenhuma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Intervalos, distâncias, buracos, porosidade etérea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Espaço vazio, em suma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O resto, é a matéria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Daí, que&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;este arrepio,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;este chamá-lo e tê-lo,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;erguê-lo e defrontá-lo,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;esta fresta de nada aberta no vazio,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;deve ser um intervalo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Máquina do Tempo, António Gedeão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-8947237732146105736?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/8947237732146105736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/8947237732146105736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/08/o-universo-feito-essencialmente-de.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RrT7pxCfHqI/AAAAAAAAAB4/R7neDoOfseI/s72-c/100_7730.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-906899867104261205</id><published>2007-07-24T21:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T21:20:27.050+01:00</updated><title type='text'>It depends on YOU</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RqZe8RCfHpI/AAAAAAAAABw/KltH4o_h5K8/s1600-h/100_7564.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090860818247917202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="213" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RqZe8RCfHpI/AAAAAAAAABw/KltH4o_h5K8/s320/100_7564.JPG" width="311" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;There's an African proverb that says, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;we need to go far... quickly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Al Gore)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-906899867104261205?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/906899867104261205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/906899867104261205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/07/it-depends-on-you.html' title='It depends on YOU'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RqZe8RCfHpI/AAAAAAAAABw/KltH4o_h5K8/s72-c/100_7564.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-4984592309805323280</id><published>2007-07-16T23:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T23:39:11.834+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Em Avis fui muito feliiiiiiiiizzzz!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/Rpvxnn5VGGI/AAAAAAAAABo/0-pbRdFxUvg/s1600-h/blasted+mechanism+avis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087925867071740002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/Rpvxnn5VGGI/AAAAAAAAABo/0-pbRdFxUvg/s320/blasted+mechanism+avis.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So let's invite everybody... to bring all the joy to the party!&lt;br /&gt;Yes, step by step we're providing... &lt;strong&gt;the fuel to get it ignited&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The end of space is near,&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;step into the sound and hear!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Battle of Tribes, Blasted Mechanism)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-4984592309805323280?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/4984592309805323280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/4984592309805323280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/07/em-avis-fui-muito-feliiiiiiiiizzzz.html' title='Em Avis fui muito feliiiiiiiiizzzz!!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/Rpvxnn5VGGI/AAAAAAAAABo/0-pbRdFxUvg/s72-c/blasted+mechanism+avis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-934769600152751575</id><published>2007-07-13T00:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T00:05:53.119+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Em escuta...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RpazfX5VGFI/AAAAAAAAABg/PyIe1zTgfLs/s1600-h/100_6620.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086450180733343826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="128" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RpazfX5VGFI/AAAAAAAAABg/PyIe1zTgfLs/s320/100_6620.jpg" width="279" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i've got our love to remember&lt;br /&gt;that will never change&lt;br /&gt;i have you in my head&lt;br /&gt;and no, i'll never hold you&lt;br /&gt;and i'm still asking why&lt;br /&gt;i guess that this is goodbye&lt;br /&gt;my dreams suddenly seem so empty&lt;br /&gt;i could go on my own, but i feel like playin' dead&lt;br /&gt;and for what feels like the first time&lt;br /&gt;i don't know where you are tonight&lt;br /&gt;i guess that this is goodbye&lt;br /&gt;we lived half our lives together&lt;br /&gt;a hundred years is a lot of weight to bear&lt;br /&gt;and the sun, it may be shining&lt;br /&gt;there's an ocean in my eyes&lt;br /&gt;cause i know that this is goodbye&lt;br /&gt;cause i know that this.. is goodbye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Goodbye, Eddie Vedder)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-934769600152751575?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/934769600152751575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/934769600152751575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/07/em-escuta.html' title='Em escuta...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RpazfX5VGFI/AAAAAAAAABg/PyIe1zTgfLs/s72-c/100_6620.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-6256371873404417494</id><published>2007-07-03T01:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T23:54:55.252+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RorTUJrz2nI/AAAAAAAAABY/V1gEJHDI9d0/s1600-h/100_6630.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083107472591542898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RorTUJrz2nI/AAAAAAAAABY/V1gEJHDI9d0/s320/100_6630.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et si tu n'existais pas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dis-moi pourquoi j'existerais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pour traîner dans un monde sans toi,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sans espoir et sans regrets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et si tu n'existais pas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;J'essaierais d'inventer l'amour,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Comme un peintre qui voit sous ses doigts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Naître les couleurs du jour.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et qui n'en revient pas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et si tu n'existais pas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dis-moi pour qui j'existerais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Des passantes endormies dans mes bras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que je n'aimerais jamais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et si tu n'existais pas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Je ne serais qu'un point de plus&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dans ce monde qui vient et qui va,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Je me sentirais perdu,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;J'aurais besoin de toi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et si tu n'existais pas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dis-moi comment j'existerais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Je pourrais faire semblant d'être moi,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mais je ne serais pas vrai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et si tu n'existais pas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Je crois que je l'aurais trouvé,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Le secret de la vie, le pourquoi,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Simplement pour te créer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Et pour te regarder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Et si tu n'existais pas, Joe Dassin)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-6256371873404417494?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/6256371873404417494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/6256371873404417494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/07/et-si-tu-nexistais-pas-dis-moi-pourquoi.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RorTUJrz2nI/AAAAAAAAABY/V1gEJHDI9d0/s72-c/100_6630.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-911685187526734923</id><published>2007-05-01T16:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T17:24:05.549+01:00</updated><title type='text'>À procura do caminho certo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RjdpNzxKRlI/AAAAAAAAABQ/y6dk-TLNRDo/s1600-h/100_5802.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059628392329659986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="195" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RjdpNzxKRlI/AAAAAAAAABQ/y6dk-TLNRDo/s320/100_5802.jpg" width="285" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A verdade é esta: o impossível é de facto possível, o possível é que não é possível, e fica pior, muito pior depois do impossível se ter tornado possível uma vez, uma única vez que seja, porque já não restam dúvidas e sem dúvidas não há esperança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Vida de Adulto, Pedro Paixão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-911685187526734923?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/911685187526734923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/911685187526734923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/05/verdade-esta-o-impossvel-de-facto.html' title='À procura do caminho certo...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RjdpNzxKRlI/AAAAAAAAABQ/y6dk-TLNRDo/s72-c/100_5802.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115385116672513734</id><published>2007-03-21T20:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-21T20:18:44.680Z</updated><title type='text'>Feliz Dia Mundial da Poesia!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RgGS2SEXmdI/AAAAAAAAABE/dW2t-uzcPXA/s1600-h/100_2300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044474518892419538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RgGS2SEXmdI/AAAAAAAAABE/dW2t-uzcPXA/s320/100_2300.jpg" width="304" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Todo o tempo é de poesia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desde a névoa da manhã&lt;br /&gt;à névoa do outro dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desde a quentura do ventre&lt;br /&gt;à frigidez da agonia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todo o tempo é de poesia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre bombas que deflagram.&lt;br /&gt;Corolas que se desdobram.&lt;br /&gt;Corpos que em sangue soçobram.&lt;br /&gt;Vidas que a amar se consagram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sob a cúpula sombria&lt;br /&gt;das mãos que pedem vingança.&lt;br /&gt;Sob o arco da aliança&lt;br /&gt;da celeste alegoria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Todo o tempo é de poesia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desde a arrumação ao caos&lt;br /&gt;à confusão da harmonia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Tempo de Poesia, António Gedeão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115385116672513734?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115385116672513734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115385116672513734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/todo-o-tempo.html' title='Feliz Dia Mundial da Poesia!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RgGS2SEXmdI/AAAAAAAAABE/dW2t-uzcPXA/s72-c/100_2300.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-8602758306113591923</id><published>2007-03-18T16:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-18T16:20:35.648Z</updated><title type='text'>Let them come!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/Rf1keFPJ5BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YtxDSW3kCH4/s1600-h/100_6079+blasted.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043297625689416722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/Rf1keFPJ5BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YtxDSW3kCH4/s200/100_6079+blasted.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Now I know the meaning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I am ready!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;This is the finest I can be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I am ready!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I trade now my crown for your kiss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Are you ready?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Let's put a record on, and dance the world &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I am ready! I am ready for you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Are you ready? Are you ready for me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;We are ready! We are ready for love!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Are you ready? &lt;strong&gt;Are you ready for it?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;(Are You Ready, Blasted Mechanism)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-8602758306113591923?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/8602758306113591923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/8602758306113591923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/03/blog-post.html' title='Let them come!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/Rf1keFPJ5BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YtxDSW3kCH4/s72-c/100_6079+blasted.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-7792156320334961265</id><published>2007-03-15T19:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-15T19:41:01.356Z</updated><title type='text'>Or in the Moon...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RfmhC1PJ4_I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ySLgDixfgHE/s1600-h/100_4901+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042238327840433138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="146" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RfmhC1PJ4_I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ySLgDixfgHE/s200/100_4901+copy.jpg" width="194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quantas vezes o coração&lt;br /&gt;Não consegue compreender&lt;br /&gt;O que a mente não faz questão&lt;br /&gt;Nem tem forças pra obedecer&lt;br /&gt;Quantos sonhos já destrui&lt;br /&gt;E deixei escapar das mãos&lt;br /&gt;Se o futuro é se permitir&lt;br /&gt;Não pretendo viver em vão&lt;br /&gt;Meu amor, não estamos sós&lt;br /&gt;Tem um mundo a esperar por nós&lt;br /&gt;No infinito do céu azul&lt;br /&gt;Pode ter vida em Marte &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então, vem cá me dá a sua língua&lt;br /&gt;Então vem, eu quero abraçar você&lt;br /&gt;Seu poder vem do sol&lt;br /&gt;Minha medida&lt;br /&gt;Então vem, vamos viver a vida&lt;br /&gt;Então vem, senão eu vou perder quem sou &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vou querer me mudar para uma life on mars...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Life on Mars, Seu Jorge/David Bowie)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-7792156320334961265?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7792156320334961265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7792156320334961265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/03/or-in-moon.html' title='Or in the Moon...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RfmhC1PJ4_I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ySLgDixfgHE/s72-c/100_4901+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-210566148581645106</id><published>2007-03-08T23:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-10T23:51:45.957Z</updated><title type='text'>Yann Tiersen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RfNEClPJ4-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/rnwQH-f0mxY/s1600-h/yann.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040447219103818722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 181px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="170" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RfNEClPJ4-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/rnwQH-f0mxY/s200/yann.jpg" width="190" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alucinante, perturbante, contagiante, intimista e surreal… Um misto de estados de espíritos e sonoridades. Uma orgia auditiva delirante. Foi assim. Numa palavra: &lt;strong&gt;FANTASTIQUE&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-210566148581645106?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/210566148581645106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/210566148581645106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/03/yann-tiersen.html' title='Yann Tiersen'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RfNEClPJ4-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/rnwQH-f0mxY/s72-c/yann.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-7716656658062288883</id><published>2007-03-05T17:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-05T17:44:53.646Z</updated><title type='text'>Where to...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RexTBiEWWfI/AAAAAAAAAAY/az-jkxYsej0/s1600-h/100_5962.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038493368910764530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="131" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RexTBiEWWfI/AAAAAAAAAAY/az-jkxYsej0/s200/100_5962.jpg" width="179" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I awake to find no peace of mind,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I said, how do you live as a fugitive? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Down here where I cannot see so clear. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I said, what do I know? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Show me the right way to go...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I awake to see that no one is free, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We're all fugitives,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Look at the way with it. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Down here, I cannot sleep from fear no. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I said, which way do I turn? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I forget everything I learn...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Spies, Coldplay)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-7716656658062288883?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7716656658062288883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/7716656658062288883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/03/where-to.html' title='Where to...?'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/RexTBiEWWfI/AAAAAAAAAAY/az-jkxYsej0/s72-c/100_5962.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-6688099866724953098</id><published>2007-02-24T20:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-25T20:59:02.122Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/ReH2cAIL9zI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RbnaWp6526E/s1600-h/100_5704blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035576819308033842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/ReH2cAIL9zI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RbnaWp6526E/s200/100_5704blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Qual o teu melhor? O que fazes melhor? Quem leva a melhor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pergunta-me, pede-me e posso mostrar-te não o mais forte, o maior, o mais isto ou mais aquilo, mas sim o melhor. Tu ou eu? &lt;strong&gt;Seria melhor nós.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Podemos pensar: existo eu e existem os outros. E por que não pensar: ou melhor, &lt;strong&gt;eu existo transformado num noutro&lt;/strong&gt;. E se o outro já cá não estiver, &lt;strong&gt;resta-nos o jogo da ausência.&lt;/strong&gt; O que é o mesmo que dizer: &lt;strong&gt;resta-nos o jogo da memória&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(best of (o melhor), Victor Hugo Pontes)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-6688099866724953098?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/6688099866724953098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/6688099866724953098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/02/qual-o-teu-melhor-o-que-fazes-melhor.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_697d3CU9XMQ/ReH2cAIL9zI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RbnaWp6526E/s72-c/100_5704blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-117095781560468552</id><published>2007-02-08T17:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-25T20:59:45.096Z</updated><title type='text'>Lindo!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/217331/100_4761.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/707762/100_4761.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Creio no racional, mas também no amor à primeira vista. &lt;strong&gt;Creio numa lógica de ferro, mas também no alógico, no ilógico, no sensorial, no subjectivo, no subliminal.&lt;/strong&gt; Meu lema é “&lt;strong&gt;tem de tudo&lt;/strong&gt;”. São precisos muitos tiques e muitos toques para fazer um mundo.&lt;br /&gt;No escuro não enxergo, não entendo do que não sei, &lt;strong&gt;paro onde me detenho, vou e volto cheio de saudades&lt;/strong&gt;. Pois, &lt;strong&gt;se fico, anseio pelo desconhecido. Se parto, rói-me a separação&lt;/strong&gt;. Sou hesitante, tenho, muitas vezes, o temor de desagradar, nem sempre sinto coragem de dizer exactamente o que penso ou tudo o que penso, emprego palavras mais suaves do que o criticado mereceria, ou perco a cabeça e uso um padrão de julgamento agressivo e injusto. &lt;strong&gt;Sou, em suma, como todo o mundo&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Pif-Paf, Millôr Fernandes)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-117095781560468552?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117095781560468552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117095781560468552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/02/lindo.html' title='Lindo!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-117096254748162131</id><published>2007-02-07T18:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-25T20:59:25.329Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/997458/100_4623.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/200/522972/100_4623.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; If the doors of perception were cleansed,&lt;br /&gt;everything would appear to man as it is:&lt;br /&gt;infinite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Dead Man, 1995)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-117096254748162131?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117096254748162131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117096254748162131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/02/if-doors-of-perception-were-cleansed.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-117069024271781563</id><published>2007-02-05T15:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-25T21:00:37.833Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/906846/100_4087%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" height="286" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/614341/100_4087%20copy.jpg" width="145" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the world change you...&lt;br /&gt;and you can change the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Diarios de motocicleta, 2004) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-117069024271781563?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117069024271781563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117069024271781563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/02/let-world-change-you.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-117035967796221972</id><published>2007-02-01T19:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-01T19:54:37.963Z</updated><title type='text'>Muito mais... =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/504108/100_4758%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/200/483724/100_4758%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que é bonito neste mundo, e anima,&lt;br /&gt;É ver que na vindima&lt;br /&gt;De cada sonho&lt;br /&gt;Fica a cepa a sonhar outra aventura…&lt;br /&gt;E que a doçura&lt;br /&gt;Que se não prova&lt;br /&gt;Se transfigura&lt;br /&gt;Numa doçura&lt;br /&gt;Muito mais pura&lt;br /&gt;E muito mais nova…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Confiança, Miguel Torga)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-117035967796221972?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117035967796221972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/117035967796221972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/02/muito-mais_01.html' title='Muito mais... =)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116128049709252752</id><published>2007-01-18T20:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-18T20:15:31.200Z</updated><title type='text'>Ai, Jesuze...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/357958/100_4991.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/935668/100_4991.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não durmo, nem espero dormir. &lt;br /&gt;Nem na morte espero dormir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espera-me uma insónia da largura dos astros, &lt;br /&gt;E um bocejo inútil do comprimento do mundo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não durmo; não posso ler quando acordo de noite, &lt;br /&gt;Não posso escrever quando acordo de noite, &lt;br /&gt;Não posso pensar quando acordo de noite — &lt;br /&gt;Meu Deus, nem posso sonhar quando acordo de noite! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, o ópio de ser outra pessoa qualquer! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não durmo, jazo, cadáver acordado, sentindo, &lt;br /&gt;E o meu sentimento é um pensamento vazio. &lt;br /&gt;Passam por mim, transtornadas, coisas que me sucederam &lt;br /&gt;— Todas aquelas de que me arrependo e me culpo;&lt;br /&gt;Passam por mim, transtornadas, coisas que me não sucederam &lt;br /&gt;— Todas aquelas de que me arrependo e me culpo;&lt;br /&gt;Passam por mim, transtornadas, coisas que não são nada, &lt;br /&gt;E até dessas me arrependo, me culpo, e não durmo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho força para ter energia para acender um cigarro. &lt;br /&gt;Fito a parede fronteira do quarto como se fosse o universo. &lt;br /&gt;Lá fora há o silêncio dessa coisa toda. &lt;br /&gt;Um grande silêncio apavorante noutra ocasião qualquer, &lt;br /&gt;Noutra ocasião qualquer em que eu pudesse sentir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou escrevendo versos realmente simpáticos — &lt;br /&gt;Versos a dizer que não tenho nada que dizer, &lt;br /&gt;Versos a teimar em dizer isso, &lt;br /&gt;Versos, versos, versos, versos, versos... &lt;br /&gt;Tantos versos... &lt;br /&gt;E a verdade toda, e a vida toda fora deles e de mim! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho sono, não durmo, sinto e não sei em que sentir.&lt;br /&gt;Sou uma sensação sem pessoa correspondente,&lt;br /&gt;Uma abstração de autoconsciência sem de quê, &lt;br /&gt;Salvo o necessário para sentir consciência, &lt;br /&gt;Salvo — sei lá salvo o quê... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não durmo. Não durmo. Não durmo. &lt;br /&gt;Que grande sono em toda a cabeça e em cima dos olhos e na alma! &lt;br /&gt;Que grande sono em tudo excepto no poder dormir! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ó madrugada, tardas tanto... Vem... &lt;br /&gt;Vem, inutilmente, &lt;br /&gt;Trazer-me outro dia igual a este, a ser seguido por outra noite igual a esta... &lt;br /&gt;Vem trazer-me a alegria dessa esperança triste, &lt;br /&gt;Porque sempre és alegre, e sempre trazes esperança, &lt;br /&gt;Segundo a velha literatura das sensações. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem, traz a esperança, vem, traz a esperança. &lt;br /&gt;O meu cansaço entra pelo colchão dentro. &lt;br /&gt;Doem-me as costas de não estar deitado de lado. &lt;br /&gt;Se estivesse deitado de lado doíam-me as costas de estar deitado de lado. &lt;br /&gt;Vem, madrugada, chega! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que horas são? Não sei. &lt;br /&gt;Não tenho energia para estender uma mão para o relógio, &lt;br /&gt;Não tenho energia para nada, para mais nada...&lt;br /&gt;Só para estes versos, escritos no dia seguinte. &lt;br /&gt;Sim, escritos no dia seguinte.&lt;br /&gt;Todos os versos são sempre escritos no dia seguinte. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noite absoluta, sossego absoluto, lá fora. &lt;br /&gt;Paz em toda a Natureza.&lt;br /&gt;A Humanidade repousa e esquece as suas amarguras. &lt;br /&gt;Exactamente. &lt;br /&gt;A Humanidade esquece as suas alegrias e amarguras. &lt;br /&gt;Costuma dizer-se isto. &lt;br /&gt;A Humanidade esquece, sim, a Humanidade esquece, &lt;br /&gt;Mas mesmo acordada a Humanidade esquece. &lt;br /&gt;Exactamente. Mas não durmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Insónias, Álvaro de Campos)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116128049709252752?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116128049709252752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116128049709252752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/01/ai-jesuze_18.html' title='Ai, Jesuze...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116854201021069677</id><published>2007-01-11T18:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-11T19:00:10.223Z</updated><title type='text'>Então não...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/105839/100_0399.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/364067/100_0399.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há dias, sabes, em que gostava de ser como o gato e que me tocasses sem desejar encontrar quaisquer sentimentos a não ser o que se exprime num espreguiçar muito lento – um vago agradecimento? – e que depois me deixasses deitado no sofá sem que nada pudesses levar da minha alma, pois nem saberias o que dela roubar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Viver todos os dias cansa, Pedro Paixão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116854201021069677?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116854201021069677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116854201021069677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/01/ento-no.html' title='Então não...?'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116827679849254711</id><published>2007-01-08T17:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-08T17:23:23.526Z</updated><title type='text'>Hidden message...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/878555/100_5324.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/166541/100_5324.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waking skies - at sunrise&lt;br /&gt;Every sunset too&lt;br /&gt;Seems to be - bringing me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;M&lt;/strong&gt;emories of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here and there - every where&lt;br /&gt;Scenes that we once knew&lt;br /&gt;And they all - just recall&lt;br /&gt;Memor&lt;strong&gt;i&lt;/strong&gt;es of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your face beams - in my dream&lt;strong&gt;s&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in spite of all that I do&lt;br /&gt;and everything - seem&lt;strong&gt;s&lt;/strong&gt; to bring&lt;br /&gt;Memories of &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Memories of you, Louis Armstrong)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116827679849254711?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116827679849254711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116827679849254711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/01/hidden-message.html' title='Hidden message...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116785256230989257</id><published>2007-01-03T19:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-03T19:29:22.323Z</updated><title type='text'>A todos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/956560/100_1403.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/198236/100_1403.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UM FANTÁSTICO 2007, repleto de alegria, poesia e momentos kodak! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116785256230989257?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116785256230989257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116785256230989257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2007/01/todos.html' title='A todos...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116647593782053846</id><published>2006-12-18T20:43:00.001Z</published><updated>2006-12-18T21:08:40.096Z</updated><title type='text'>Foi demais!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/535776/j.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/200/240501/j.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tira a mão do queixo, não penses mais nisso&lt;br /&gt;O que lá vai já deu o que tinha a dar&lt;br /&gt;Quem ganhou, ganhou e usou-se disso&lt;br /&gt;Quem perdeu há-de ter mais cartas para dar&lt;br /&gt;E enquanto alguns fazem figura&lt;br /&gt;Outros sucumbem à batota&lt;br /&gt;Chega aonde tu quiseres&lt;br /&gt;Mas goza bem a tua rota&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver estrada para andar&lt;br /&gt;A gente vai continuar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver estrada para andar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver ventos e mar&lt;br /&gt;A gente não vai parar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver ventos e mar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todos nós pagamos por tudo o que usamos&lt;br /&gt;O sistema é antigo e não poupa ninguém, não&lt;br /&gt;Somos todos escravos do que precisamos&lt;br /&gt;Reduz as necessidades se queres passar bem&lt;br /&gt;Que a dependência é uma besta&lt;br /&gt;Que dá cabo do desejo&lt;br /&gt;E a liberdade é uma maluca&lt;br /&gt;Que sabe quanto vale um beijo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enquanto houver estrada para andar&lt;br /&gt;A gente vai continuar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver estrada para andar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver ventos e mar&lt;br /&gt;A gente não vai parar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto houver ventos e mar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(A Gente Vai Continuar, Jorge Palma)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116647593782053846?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116647593782053846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116647593782053846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/12/foi-demais_18.html' title='Foi demais!!!!!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116480804131252733</id><published>2006-11-29T13:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-29T13:47:22.503Z</updated><title type='text'>Is it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/828988/100_4585.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/41157/100_4585.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's go drive 'till morning comes&lt;br /&gt;And watch the sunrise and fill our souls up&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;And here I'm dancing on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Am I right side up or upside down&lt;br /&gt;And is this real or am I dreaming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Crush, David Matthews)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116480804131252733?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116480804131252733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116480804131252733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/11/is-it.html' title='Is it?'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116465378959030008</id><published>2006-11-27T10:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-27T18:56:29.926Z</updated><title type='text'>Bom dia e boa semana! =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/1600/574859/homenag%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1391/1634/320/110670/homenag%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu tenho asas nos pés&lt;br /&gt;Só me apetece dançar&lt;br /&gt;Há tantas caras bonitas&lt;br /&gt;Tantas mãos a acenar&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou um balão colorido e mágico&lt;br /&gt;- Bom dia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ontem já passou&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã pode ser bom&lt;br /&gt;Mas hoje é o melhor dia que há&lt;br /&gt;Nem preciso de fé&lt;br /&gt;Eu felizmente não preciso de nada&lt;br /&gt;- Bom dia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu sou um homem contente&lt;br /&gt;Ao serviço do amor&lt;br /&gt;Sou o próprio sonho&lt;br /&gt;E desconheço a dor&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o vagabundo mais feliz que existe&lt;br /&gt;- Bom dia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu sou mais forte dos deuses&lt;br /&gt;Mais certeiro que a morte&lt;br /&gt;Estou por cima da queda&lt;br /&gt;Mais seguro que a sorte&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou o universo inteiro a sorrir&lt;br /&gt;- Bom dia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Bom dia, Jorge Palma)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116465378959030008?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116465378959030008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116465378959030008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/11/bom-dia-e-boa-semana.html' title='Bom dia e boa semana! =)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116343505242691787</id><published>2006-11-13T16:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-13T16:24:12.473Z</updated><title type='text'>Breaking....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_4371%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_4371%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've this creeping&lt;br /&gt;Suspicion that things are not as they seem&lt;br /&gt;Reassure me&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel as if I'm in too deep&lt;br /&gt;(…)&lt;br /&gt;If I leave now I might get away&lt;br /&gt;This weighs on me&lt;br /&gt;As heavy as stone and as blue as I go&lt;br /&gt;I was just wondering if you'd come along&lt;br /&gt;To hold up my head when my head won't hold on&lt;br /&gt;(…)&lt;br /&gt;I will run and I'll be ok&lt;br /&gt;I was just wondering if you'd come along&lt;br /&gt;To hold up my head when my head won't hold on&lt;br /&gt;To stay in your arms see you smile hold you close&lt;br /&gt;And it weighs on me&lt;br /&gt;As heavy as stone and a bone chilling cold&lt;br /&gt;I was just wondering if you'd come along&lt;br /&gt;Tell me you will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(The stone, Dave Matthews)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116343505242691787?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116343505242691787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116343505242691787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/11/breaking.html' title='Breaking....'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116233216899599320</id><published>2006-10-31T21:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-10-31T22:02:49.153Z</updated><title type='text'>O Pensamento a dar entrada no Neurónio nº1 - com destino à Insanidade Total - não pára em nenhuma estação ou apeadeiro do Bom Senso</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_4336.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_4336.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos lá contar as armas&lt;br /&gt;tu e eu, de braço dado &lt;br /&gt;nesta estrada meio deserta&lt;br /&gt;não sabemos quanto tempo as tréguas vão durar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;há vitórias e derrotas &lt;br /&gt;apontadas em silêncio &lt;br /&gt;no diário imaginário &lt;br /&gt;onde empilhamos as razões para lutar! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Repreendo os meus fantasmas &lt;br /&gt;ao virar de cada esquina&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;por espantarem a inocência &lt;br /&gt;quantas vezes te odiei com medo de te amar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;Vamos enganar o tempo&lt;br /&gt;saltar para o primeiro combóio&lt;br /&gt;que arrancar da mais próxima estação!&lt;br /&gt;Para quê fazer projectos&lt;br /&gt;quando sai tudo ao contrário?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pode ser que, por milagre,&lt;br /&gt;troquemos as voltas aos deuses&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre o caos e o conflito&lt;br /&gt;a vontade e a desordem&lt;br /&gt;não podemos ver ao longe&lt;br /&gt;e corremos sempre o risco de ir longe demais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somos meros transeuntes&lt;br /&gt;no passeio dos prodígios&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;somos só sobreviventes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;com carimbos falsos nas credenciais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vamos enganar o tempo...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Passeio dos Prodígios, Jorge Palma) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116233216899599320?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116233216899599320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116233216899599320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/o-pensamento-dar-entrada-no-neurnio-n1.html' title='O Pensamento a dar entrada no Neurónio nº1 - com destino à Insanidade Total - não pára em nenhuma estação ou apeadeiro do Bom Senso'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116189300181132754</id><published>2006-10-26T21:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T21:35:37.910+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A vida é um carrocel, a minha cabeça a casa do terror ;)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_3491%20KunstHausWien%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_3491%20KunstHausWien%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No bairro do amor a vida é um carrossel&lt;br /&gt;Onde há sempre lugar para mais alguém&lt;br /&gt;O bairro do amor foi feito a lápis de cor&lt;br /&gt;Por gente que sofreu por não ter ninguém&lt;br /&gt;No bairro do amor o tempo morre devagar&lt;br /&gt;Num cachimbo a rodar de mão em mão&lt;br /&gt;No bairro do amor há quem pergunte a sorrir:&lt;br /&gt;Será que ainda cá estamos no fim do verão?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No bairro do amor a vida corre sempre igual&lt;br /&gt;De café em café , de bar em bar&lt;br /&gt;No bairro do amor o sol parece maior&lt;br /&gt;E há ondas de ternura em cada olhar&lt;br /&gt;O bairro do amor é uma zona marginal&lt;br /&gt;Onde não há prisões nem hospitais&lt;br /&gt;No bairro do amor cada um tem que tratar&lt;br /&gt;Das suas nódoas negras sentimentais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh , pá , deixa-me abrir contigo&lt;br /&gt;Desabafar contigo&lt;br /&gt;Falar-te da minha solidão&lt;br /&gt;Ah, é bom sorrir um pouco&lt;br /&gt;Descontrair um pouco&lt;br /&gt;Eu sei que tu compreendes bem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(O Bairro do Amor, Jorge Palma)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116189300181132754?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116189300181132754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116189300181132754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/vida-um-carrocel-minha-cabea-casa-do.html' title='A vida é um carrocel, a minha cabeça a casa do terror ;)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116128046513771474</id><published>2006-10-19T19:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T19:56:54.193+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_4291.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/100_4291.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço&lt;br /&gt;Não disto nem daquilo,&lt;br /&gt;Nem sequer de tudo ou de nada:&lt;br /&gt;Cansaço assim mesmo, ele mesmo,&lt;br /&gt;Cansaço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A subtileza das sensações inúteis,&lt;br /&gt;As paixões violentas por coisa nenhuma,&lt;br /&gt;Os amores intensos por o suposto alguém.&lt;br /&gt;Essas coisas todas -&lt;br /&gt;Essas e o que faz falta nelas eternamente;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo isso faz um cansaço,&lt;br /&gt;Este cansaço,&lt;br /&gt;Cansaço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há sem dúvida quem ame o infinito,&lt;br /&gt;Há sem dúvida quem deseje o impossível,&lt;br /&gt;Há sem dúvida quem não queira nada -&lt;br /&gt;Três tipos de idealistas, e eu nenhum deles:&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu amo infinitamente o finito,&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu desejo impossivelmente o possível,&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu quero tudo, ou um pouco mais, se puder ser,&lt;br /&gt;Ou até se não puder ser...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o resultado?&lt;br /&gt;Para eles a vida vivida ou sonhada,&lt;br /&gt;Para eles o sonho sonhado ou vivido,&lt;br /&gt;Para eles a média entre tudo e nada, isto é, isto...&lt;br /&gt;Para mim só um grande, um profundo,&lt;br /&gt;E, ah com que felicidade infecundo, cansaço,&lt;br /&gt;Um supremíssimo cansaço.&lt;br /&gt;Íssimo, íssimo. íssimo,&lt;br /&gt;Cansaço... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Cansaço, Álvaro de Campos)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116128046513771474?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116128046513771474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116128046513771474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/o-que-h-em-mim-sobretudo-cansao-no.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116108322990643487</id><published>2006-10-17T12:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T13:31:36.020+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Eternamente noutro espaço e tempo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_4332.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/100_4332.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O tempo não sabe nada, o tempo não tem razão&lt;br /&gt;O tempo nunca existiu, o tempo é nossa invenção&lt;br /&gt;Se abandonarmos as horas não nos sentimos sós&lt;br /&gt;Meu amor, o tempo somos nós&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O espaço tem o volume da imaginação&lt;br /&gt;Além do nosso horizonte existe outra dimensão&lt;br /&gt;O espaço foi construído sem princípio nem fim&lt;br /&gt;Meu amor, tu cabes dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O meu tesouro és tu&lt;br /&gt;Eternamente tu&lt;br /&gt;Não há passos divergentes para quem se quer&lt;br /&gt;Encontrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A nossa história começa na total escuridão&lt;br /&gt;Onde o mistério ultrapassa a nossa compreensão&lt;br /&gt;A nossa história é o esforço para alcançar a luz&lt;br /&gt;Meu amor, o impossível seduz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O meu tesouro és tu&lt;br /&gt;Eternamente tu&lt;br /&gt;Não há passos divergentes para quem se quer&lt;br /&gt;Encontrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O meu tesouro és tu&lt;br /&gt;Eternamente tu&lt;br /&gt;Eternamente tu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Eternamente Tu, Jorge Palma)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116108322990643487?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116108322990643487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116108322990643487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/eternamente-noutro-espao-e-tempo.html' title='Eternamente noutro espaço e tempo'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116081341869364477</id><published>2006-10-14T08:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-14T09:10:18.703+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ai, as palavras, as palavras...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_2080.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_2080.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;São como um cristal,&lt;br /&gt;as palavras.&lt;br /&gt;Algumas, um punhal,&lt;br /&gt;um incêndio.Outras,&lt;br /&gt;orvalho apenas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Secretas&lt;/strong&gt; vêm, cheias de memória.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Inseguras &lt;/strong&gt;navegam:&lt;br /&gt;barcos ou beijos,&lt;br /&gt;as águas &lt;strong&gt;estremecem&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desamparadas&lt;/strong&gt;, inocentes,&lt;br /&gt;leves.&lt;br /&gt;Tecidas são de luz&lt;br /&gt;e são a noite.&lt;br /&gt;E mesmo pálidas&lt;br /&gt;verdes paraísos lembram ainda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem as escuta? Quem&lt;br /&gt;as recolhe, assim,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cruéis, desfeitas&lt;/strong&gt;, nas suas conchas puras?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(As palavras, Eugénio de Andrade)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116081341869364477?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116081341869364477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116081341869364477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/ai-as-palavras-as-palavras.html' title='Ai, as palavras, as palavras...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116068124740770473</id><published>2006-10-12T20:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T21:08:27.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Burrices</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/burro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/burro.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu morrer batam em latas,&lt;br /&gt;Rompam aos saltos e aos pinotes,&lt;br /&gt;Façam estalar no ar chicotes,&lt;br /&gt;Chamem palhaços e acrobatas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que o meu caixão vá sobre um burro&lt;br /&gt;Ajaezado à andaluza…&lt;br /&gt;A um morto nada se recusa,&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero por força ir de burro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Fim, Mário de Sá Carneiro)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116068124740770473?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116068124740770473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116068124740770473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/burrices.html' title='Burrices'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-116016017131542411</id><published>2006-10-06T19:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T19:42:51.333+01:00</updated><title type='text'>E esta, hein?!?!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_4098%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_4098%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-116016017131542411?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116016017131542411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/116016017131542411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/e-esta-hein.html' title='E esta, hein?!?!?'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115974051956751954</id><published>2006-10-01T22:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T23:08:39.646+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Na placidez do horizonte</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_0828%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_0828%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contemplo o lago mudo &lt;br /&gt;Que uma brisa estremece. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sei se penso em tudo &lt;br /&gt;Ou se tudo me esquece. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O lago nada me diz, &lt;br /&gt;Não sinto a brisa mexê-lo &lt;br /&gt;Não sei se sou feliz &lt;br /&gt;Nem se desejo sê-lo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trémulos vincos risonhos &lt;br /&gt;Na água adormecida. &lt;br /&gt;Por que fiz eu dos sonhos &lt;br /&gt;A minha única vida? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Poesias, Fernando Pessoa)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115974051956751954?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115974051956751954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115974051956751954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/10/na-placidez-do-horizonte.html' title='Na placidez do horizonte'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115556614833700019</id><published>2006-09-29T20:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T20:47:07.526+01:00</updated><title type='text'>In flames</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/fire2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/fire2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us burn one from end to end,&lt;br /&gt;And pass it over to me my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Burn it long, but burn it slow,&lt;br /&gt;To light me up before I go.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My choice is what I choose to do,&lt;br /&gt;And if I'm causing no harm, it shouldn't bother you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your choice is who you choose to be,&lt;br /&gt;And if you're causin' no harm, then you're alright with me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Herb the gift from the earth,&lt;br /&gt;And what's from the earth is of the greatest worth.&lt;br /&gt;So before you knock it try it first,&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you'll see it's a blessing and it's not a curse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't like my fire, then don't come around,&lt;br /&gt;'cause I'm gonna burn one down.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm gonna burn one, oohhh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Burn One Down, Ben Harper)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115556614833700019?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115556614833700019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115556614833700019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/in-flames.html' title='In flames'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115878014115893421</id><published>2006-09-28T21:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T11:02:25.456+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sempre... o mesmo absurdo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre os mesmos gestos&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo olhar&lt;br /&gt;Sempre os mesmos passos&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo não estar&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo estado&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo perder&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo lado&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo dizer&lt;br /&gt;Sempre a mesma estrada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sempre o mesmo nada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo encontrar,pensar, deixar para trás&lt;br /&gt;Talvez amanhã, pense outra vez&lt;br /&gt;Sempre a mesma noite&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo estar-bem&lt;br /&gt;Sempre estar em grande&lt;br /&gt;Sempre o mesmo ninguém &lt;br /&gt;Sempre a mesma falta de cor e humor&lt;br /&gt;Para parar e gritar:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Fome demais, Toranja)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115878014115893421?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115878014115893421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115878014115893421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/sempre-o-mesmo-absurdo.html' title='Sempre... o mesmo absurdo'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115896275966925848</id><published>2006-09-22T22:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T12:21:08.160+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Often gone, late, hidden, crying and cold but not bent</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/Edimburgo%20Abr2005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/Edimburgo%20Abr2005.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a swan, I'd be gone.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a train, I'd be late.&lt;br /&gt;And if I were a good man, I'd talk with you more often than I do.&lt;br /&gt;If I were to sleep, I could dream.&lt;br /&gt;If I were afraid, I could hide.&lt;br /&gt;If I go insane, please don't put your wires in my brain.&lt;br /&gt;If I were the moon, I'd be cool.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a book, I would bend.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a good man, I'd understand the spaces between friends.&lt;br /&gt;If I were alone, I would cry.&lt;br /&gt;And if I were with you, I'd be home and dry.&lt;br /&gt;And if I go insane, will you still let me join in with the game?&lt;br /&gt;If I were a swan, I'd be gone.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a train, I'd be late again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If I were a good man, I'd talk to you more often than I do.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(If, Pink Floyd)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115896275966925848?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115896275966925848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115896275966925848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/often-gone-late-hidden-crying-and-cold.html' title='Often gone, late, hidden, crying and cold but not bent'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115875829910749931</id><published>2006-09-20T10:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T10:23:54.823+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Take this ride!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/Schloss%20Schonbrunn.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/Schloss%20Schonbrunn.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well we know where we're goin'&lt;br /&gt;but we don't know where we've been&lt;br /&gt;and we know what we're knowin'&lt;br /&gt;but we can't say what we've seen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and we're not little children&lt;br /&gt;and we know what we want&lt;br /&gt;and the future is certain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;give us time to work it out&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we're on a road to nowhere&lt;br /&gt;come on inside&lt;br /&gt;takin' that ride to nowhere&lt;br /&gt;we'll take that ride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i'm feelin' okay this mornin'&lt;br /&gt;and you know,&lt;br /&gt;we're on the road to paradise&lt;br /&gt;here we go, here we go&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Talking Heads, Road to Nowhere)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115875829910749931?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115875829910749931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115875829910749931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/take-this-ride.html' title='Take this ride!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115831564718028908</id><published>2006-09-15T00:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T11:20:47.200+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Praise the "Lord"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/pencilgrayliquify2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/pencilgrayliquify2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the wings stolen from an angel&lt;br /&gt;Like petals gone from a rose&lt;br /&gt;Like a dove caught in a storm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight [s]he's in the Lord's Arms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind it blew straight through us&lt;br /&gt;And whispered to me in tongues&lt;br /&gt;I was told I was wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight [s]he would be in the Lord's Arms&lt;br /&gt;Tonight [s]he is in the Lord's Arms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I drinked this wine to him&lt;br /&gt;With each glass of memory&lt;br /&gt;He left with his crown of thornes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight [s]he's in the Lord's Arms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(In The Lord's Arms, Ben Harper)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115831564718028908?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115831564718028908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115831564718028908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/praise-lord.html' title='Praise the &quot;Lord&quot;'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115797805247664555</id><published>2006-09-10T23:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T13:38:10.653+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Where it all started =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_3956.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/100_3956.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mesmo que a vida mude os nossos sentidos&lt;br /&gt;e o mundo nos leve pra longe de nós&lt;br /&gt;e que um dia o tempo pareça perdido&lt;br /&gt;e tudo se desfaça num gesto só&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou guardar cada lugar teu&lt;br /&gt;ancorado em cada lugar meu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e hoje apenas isso me faz acreditar&lt;br /&gt;que eu vou chegar contigo&lt;br /&gt;onde só chega quem não tem medo de naufragar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Cada lugar teu, Mafalda Veiga)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115797805247664555?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115797805247664555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115797805247664555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/where-it-all-started.html' title='Where it all started =)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115765585120325009</id><published>2006-09-07T19:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T20:16:29.883+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I saw the light =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/pearl%20jam%2005%20set%202006.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/pearl%20jam%2005%20set%202006.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With heavy breath, awakened regrets&lt;br /&gt;back pages and days alone &lt;br /&gt;that could have been spent... together&lt;br /&gt;but we were miles apart...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;every inch between us becomes light years now...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and wherever you've gone &lt;br /&gt;and wherever we might go&lt;br /&gt;it don't seem fair...today just disappeared&lt;br /&gt;your light's reflected now, reflected from afar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;we were but stones, your light made us stars&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Light Years, Pearl Jam)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115765585120325009?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115765585120325009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115765585120325009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-saw-light.html' title='I saw the light =)'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115738249280018079</id><published>2006-09-04T17:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T18:04:39.150+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Drifting...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_3409%20Nationalpark%20Donau-Auen2.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_3409%20Nationalpark%20Donau-Auen2.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daydream, delusion, limousine, eyelash&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby with your pretty face&lt;br /&gt;Drop a tear in my wineglass&lt;br /&gt;Look at those big eyes&lt;br /&gt;See what you mean to me&lt;br /&gt;Sweet-cakes and milkshakes&lt;br /&gt;I'm delusion angel&lt;br /&gt;I'm fantasy parade&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know what I think&lt;br /&gt;Don't want you to guess anymore&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea where I came from&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We have no idea where we're going&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Latched in life&lt;br /&gt;Like branches in a river&lt;br /&gt;Flowing downstream&lt;br /&gt;Caught in the current&lt;br /&gt;I'll carry you&lt;br /&gt;You'll carry me&lt;br /&gt;That's how it could be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Vienna's street poet, Before Sunrise)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115738249280018079?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115738249280018079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115738249280018079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/09/drifting.html' title='Drifting...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115694874840983965</id><published>2006-08-30T15:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T15:39:08.453+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_3156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_3156.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...santinho!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115694874840983965?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115694874840983965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115694874840983965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/blog-post_30.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115573132878687848</id><published>2006-08-16T13:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T13:28:48.803+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Inquietações</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/belem%20copy.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/belem%20copy.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nada me prende a nada. &lt;br /&gt;Quero cinquenta coisas ao mesmo tempo. &lt;br /&gt;Anseio com uma angústia de fome de carne &lt;br /&gt;O que não sei que seja - &lt;br /&gt;Definidamente pelo indefinido... &lt;br /&gt;Durmo irrequieto, e vivo num sonhar irrequieto &lt;br /&gt;De quem dorme irrequieto, metade a sonhar. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;Não sei que destino ou futuro compete à minha angústia sem leme; &lt;br /&gt;Não sei que ilhas do sul impossível aguardam-me naufrago; &lt;br /&gt;ou que palmares de literatura me darão ao menos um verso. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não, não sei isto, nem outra coisa, nem coisa nenhuma... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, no fundo do meu espírito, onde sonho o que sonhei, &lt;br /&gt;Nos campos últimos da alma, onde memoro sem causa &lt;br /&gt;(E o passado é uma névoa natural de lágrimas falsas), &lt;br /&gt;Nas estradas e atalhos das florestas longínquas &lt;br /&gt;Onde supus o meu ser, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fogem desmantelados, últimos restos &lt;br /&gt;Da ilusão final,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Os meus exércitos sonhados, derrotados sem ter sido, &lt;br /&gt;As minhas cortes por existir, esfaceladas em Deus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Outra vez te revejo, &lt;br /&gt;Cidade da minha infância pavorosamente perdida... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cidade triste e alegre, outra vez sonho aqui... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu? Mas sou eu o mesmo que aqui vivi, e aqui voltei, &lt;br /&gt;E aqui tornei a voltar, e a voltar. &lt;br /&gt;E aqui de novo tornei a voltar? &lt;br /&gt;Ou somos todos os Eu que estive aqui ou estiveram, &lt;br /&gt;Uma série de contas-entes ligados por um fio-memória, &lt;br /&gt;Uma série de sonhos de mim de alguém de fora de mim? &lt;br /&gt;Outra vez te revejo, &lt;br /&gt;Com o coração mais longínquo, a alma menos minha.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outra vez te revejo - Lisboa e Tejo e tudo -, &lt;br /&gt;Transeunte inútil de ti e de mim, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Estrangeiro aqui como em toda a parte, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Casual na vida como na alma, &lt;br /&gt;Fantasma a errar em salas de recordações, &lt;br /&gt;Ao ruído dos ratos e das tábuas que rangem &lt;br /&gt;No castelo maldito de ter que viver... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outra vez te revejo, &lt;br /&gt;Sombra que passa através das sombras, e brilha &lt;br /&gt;Um momento a uma luz fúnebre desconhecida, &lt;br /&gt;E entra na noite como um rastro de barco se perde &lt;br /&gt;Na água que deixa de se ouvir... &lt;br /&gt;Outra vez te revejo, &lt;br /&gt;Mas, ai, a mim não me revejo! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Partiu-se o espelho mágico em que me revia idêntico, &lt;br /&gt;E em cada fragmento fatídico vejo só um bocado de mim - &lt;br /&gt;Um bocado de ti e de mim!... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Lisbon Revisited, Álvaro de Campos)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115573132878687848?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115573132878687848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115573132878687848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/inquietaes.html' title='Inquietações'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115558741871152312</id><published>2006-08-14T21:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T13:33:10.480+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts on a sunny day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_2909b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_2909b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!&lt;br /&gt;The world forgetting, by the world forgot.&lt;br /&gt;Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!&lt;br /&gt;Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;&lt;br /&gt;"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;Far other dreams my erring soul employ,&lt;br /&gt;Far other raptures, of unholy joy:&lt;br /&gt;When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,&lt;br /&gt;Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,&lt;br /&gt;All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night!&lt;br /&gt;How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!&lt;br /&gt;Provoking Daemons all restraint remove,&lt;br /&gt;And stir within me every source of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,&lt;br /&gt;And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wake--no more I hear, no more I view,&lt;br /&gt;The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.&lt;br /&gt;I call aloud; it hears not what I say;&lt;br /&gt;I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To dream once more I close my willing eyes;&lt;br /&gt;Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;&lt;br /&gt;Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,&lt;br /&gt;And wake to all the griefs I left behind.&lt;/strong&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Eloisa to Abelard, Alexander Pope)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115558741871152312?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115558741871152312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115558741871152312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/random-thoughts-on-sunny-day.html' title='Random thoughts on a sunny day'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115531387031279444</id><published>2006-08-11T17:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T17:31:10.330+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Não, não vou por aí!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_1844.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_1844.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Vem por aqui" — dizem-me alguns com os olhos doces&lt;br /&gt;Estendendo-me os braços, e seguros&lt;br /&gt;De que seria bom que eu os ouvisse&lt;br /&gt;Quando me dizem: "vem por aqui!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu olho-os com olhos lassos,&lt;br /&gt;(Há, nos olhos meus, ironias e cansaços)&lt;br /&gt;E cruzo os braços,&lt;br /&gt;E nunca vou por ali...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A minha glória é esta:&lt;br /&gt;Criar desumanidades!&lt;br /&gt;Não acompanhar ninguém.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;— Que eu vivo com o mesmo sem-vontade&lt;br /&gt;Com que rasguei o ventre à minha mãe&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não, não vou por aí! Só vou por onde&lt;br /&gt;Me levam meus próprios passos...&lt;br /&gt;Se ao que busco saber nenhum de vós responde&lt;br /&gt;Por que me repetis: "vem por aqui!"?&lt;br /&gt;Prefiro escorregar nos becos lamacentos,&lt;br /&gt;Redemoinhar aos ventos,&lt;br /&gt;Como farrapos, arrastar os pés sangrentos,&lt;br /&gt;A ir por aí...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se vim ao mundo, foi&lt;br /&gt;Só para desflorar florestas virgens,&lt;br /&gt;E desenhar meus próprios pés na areia inexplorada!&lt;br /&gt;O mais que faço não vale nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como, pois, sereis vós&lt;br /&gt;Que me dareis impulsos, ferramentas e coragem&lt;br /&gt;Para eu derrubar os meus obstáculos?...&lt;br /&gt;Corre, nas vossas veias, sangue velho dos avós,&lt;br /&gt;E vós amais o que é fácil!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu amo o Longe e a Miragem,&lt;br /&gt;Amo os abismos, as torrentes, os desertos...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ide! Tendes estradas,&lt;br /&gt;Tendes jardins, tendes canteiros,&lt;br /&gt;Tendes pátria, tendes tetos,&lt;br /&gt;E tendes regras, e tratados, e filósofos, e sábios...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu tenho a minha Loucura !&lt;br /&gt;Levanto-a, como um facho, a arder na noite escura,&lt;br /&gt;E sinto espuma, e sangue, e cânticos nos lábios...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deus e o Diabo é que guiam, mais ninguém!&lt;br /&gt;Todos tiveram pai, todos tiveram mãe;&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu, que nunca principio nem acabo,&lt;br /&gt;Nasci do amor que há entre Deus e o Diabo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, que ninguém me dê piedosas intenções,&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém me peça definições!&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém me diga: "vem por aqui"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A minha vida é um vendaval que se soltou,&lt;br /&gt;É uma onda que se alevantou,&lt;br /&gt;É um átomo a mais que se animou...&lt;br /&gt;Não sei por onde vou,&lt;br /&gt;Não sei para onde vou&lt;br /&gt;Sei que não vou por aí!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Cântico Negro, José Régio)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115531387031279444?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115531387031279444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115531387031279444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/no-no-vou-por_11.html' title='Não, não vou por aí!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115522847345408361</id><published>2006-08-10T17:36:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T17:47:53.456+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/lua1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/lua1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Para ser grande, sê inteiro&lt;/strong&gt;: nada&lt;br /&gt;Teu exagera ou exclui.&lt;br /&gt;Sê todo em cada coisa. Põe quanto és&lt;br /&gt;No mínimo que fazes.&lt;br /&gt;Assim em cada lago a lua toda&lt;br /&gt;Brilha, porque alta vive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Odes, Ricardo Reis)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115522847345408361?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115522847345408361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115522847345408361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/para-ser-grande-s-inteiro-nada-teu_10.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115511888723253499</id><published>2006-08-09T10:56:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T11:32:32.680+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Souvenirs from a beautiful world</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/borboleta.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/borboleta.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/uagartixa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/uagartixa.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/ranita.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/ranita.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/maisuibeuinha.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/maisuibeuinha.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/uibeuinhaazuli.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/uibeuinhaazuli.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/uibeuinhacastanha.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/uibeuinhacastanha.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/uibeuinha.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/uibeuinha.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're sinking like stones, &lt;br /&gt;All that we fought for, &lt;br /&gt;All those places we've gone, &lt;br /&gt;All of us are done for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We live in a beautiful world, &lt;br /&gt;Yeah we do, yeah we do,&lt;br /&gt;We live in a beautiful world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, all that I know, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There's nothing here to run from, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And everybody here has got somebody to lean on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Don't Panic, Coldplay)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115511888723253499?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115511888723253499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115511888723253499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/souvenirs-from-beautiful-world_09.html' title='Souvenirs from a beautiful world'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115455085762988697</id><published>2006-08-02T21:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T21:39:14.836+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Não estou... fui dançar!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/andan%3F%3Fas%202006.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/andan%3F%3Fas%202006.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A minha aldeia &lt;br /&gt;Minha aldeia é todo o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Todo o mundo me pertence.&lt;br /&gt;Aqui me encontro e confundo&lt;br /&gt;com gente de todo o mundo&lt;br /&gt;que a todo o mundo pertence. &lt;br /&gt;                                                                              &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(A minha aldeia, António Gedeão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115455085762988697?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115455085762988697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115455085762988697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/08/no-estou-fui-danar_02.html' title='Não estou... fui dançar!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115411370996372155</id><published>2006-07-28T19:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T15:53:11.990+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Flutuando...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/grifo_amoura.0.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/400/grifo_amoura.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Largaram-me a mil metros do chão&lt;br /&gt;Reparo o sol que se afasta no ar&lt;br /&gt;Rasgo caminho onde o vento dormia&lt;br /&gt;Adormeço sentidos no meu furacão&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto sol anuncia o dia&lt;br /&gt;Sinto o meu corpo, desamparado, deslizar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto caía a terra rachou&lt;br /&gt;E eu via a queda ainda mais funda&lt;br /&gt;Ao meu lado passava tudo o que passei&lt;br /&gt;Comigo a miragem que nada mudou&lt;br /&gt;Do voo rasante que nem começou&lt;br /&gt;Do tempo apressado que nem reparei...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto os meus gestos flutuar, devagar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Lados Errados, Toranja)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115411370996372155?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115411370996372155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115411370996372155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/flutuando.html' title='Flutuando...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115394242518980801</id><published>2006-07-26T20:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-26T20:33:45.190+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Divagações</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_0384%20copy.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_0384%20copy.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem me pode explicar tudo isto? Eu não, certamente. Mas (e essa é uma das lacunas da democracia) ninguém me pode impedir de tentar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Boca do Inferno, Ricardo Araújo Pereira)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115394242518980801?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115394242518980801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115394242518980801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/divagaes_26.html' title='Divagações'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115385736818964537</id><published>2006-07-25T20:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T21:18:20.246+01:00</updated><title type='text'>In a crowded city...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/manofthehour_amoura.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/manofthehour_amoura.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The road &lt;br /&gt;The old man paved&lt;br /&gt;The broken seems along the way&lt;br /&gt;The rusted signs, left just for me&lt;br /&gt;He was guiding me, his own way&lt;br /&gt;Now the man of the hour is taking his final bow&lt;br /&gt;As the curtain comes down &lt;br /&gt;I feel that this is just g'bye for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Man Of The Hour, Pearl Jam)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115385736818964537?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115385736818964537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115385736818964537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/in-crowded-city.html' title='In a crowded city...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115348748929457681</id><published>2006-07-21T14:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T14:13:21.746+01:00</updated><title type='text'>À deriva...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/costa%20nova_amoura.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/costa%20nova_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por vezes é preciso &lt;strong&gt;esquecer para poder continuar&lt;/strong&gt;. Esquecer, ou pelo menos afastar para um lugar onde não andem à solta, fazendo estragos, provocando &lt;strong&gt;sentimentos à deriva&lt;/strong&gt;, experiências que nos fazem temer que não somos nós que temos mão sobre a vida, mas ela tem a sua mão sobre nós.&lt;br /&gt;(...) sabemos que é só uma pausa, que a inquietude dos dias vai regressar com as suas &lt;strong&gt;preocupações&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;dúvidas &lt;/strong&gt;e &lt;strong&gt;angústias &lt;/strong&gt;que nos mordem a nuca, o trabalho que nos salva e consome no tempo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(A cidade depois, Pedro Paixão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115348748929457681?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115348748929457681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115348748929457681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/deriva.html' title='À deriva...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115324857369271632</id><published>2006-07-18T19:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T19:51:44.386+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Milagres acontecem</title><content type='html'>Não há qualquer profundidade nas palavras de hoje, mas também já não há sinapse que funcione a esta hora…&lt;br /&gt;Depois de contornos de paciência, cedências de neurónios e inversão de arritmias, no meio de peões suicidas e condutores incautos, resta apenas dizer: HIP HIP URRA!&lt;br /&gt;Mal acredito… Será mesmo verdade? Pois, olha, parece que simmmm! Eheheheh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sou uma criatura encartada!!!!!!!!!!!!! &lt;/strong&gt;Iupiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Yehhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Uhuuuuuuuuuuu! Comboiinho!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115324857369271632?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115324857369271632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115324857369271632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/milagres-acontecem.html' title='Milagres acontecem'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115273282226413287</id><published>2006-07-12T20:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T20:33:42.266+01:00</updated><title type='text'>De noite...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/sobreiro_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/sobreiro_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De repente &lt;strong&gt;o vazio&lt;/strong&gt;. No momento preciso em que não estávamos à espera. O vazio. Sabes como é, claro. &lt;strong&gt;Quando se perde a direcção e o sentido &lt;/strong&gt;e o tempo é uma muralha levantada à nossa frente. O tempo, por vezes, até parece que somos nós que o fazemos, que somos nós que temos que o fazer. [...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fecho os olhos e vejo-te. Vens a mim quando não te quero. Há coisas que não se devem querer. Tu és uma delas, doce veneno. &lt;strong&gt;Corremos sem saber se vamos a tempo de saltar. &lt;/strong&gt;Se queremos. Nesta existência precipitada, imprevisível. De noite. Pequenos nadas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Nos teus braços morreríamos, Pedro Paixão)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115273282226413287?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115273282226413287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115273282226413287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/de-noite_12.html' title='De noite...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115264496864088536</id><published>2006-07-11T20:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T20:09:28.653+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tb quero!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/perna-longa_amoura%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/perna-longa_amoura%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apetecia-me estar assim... &lt;br /&gt;Perninhas dentro de águas...&lt;br /&gt;No worries, great bath...&lt;br /&gt;Verdadeira maravilha! =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115264496864088536?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115264496864088536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115264496864088536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/tb-quero.html' title='Tb quero!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115252092467053969</id><published>2006-07-10T09:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T09:42:04.680+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sou um guardador de rebanhos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_2087%20copy.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_2087%20copy.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu não tenho filosofia; tenho sentidos...&lt;br /&gt;Se falo na Natureza não é porque saiba o que ela é,&lt;br /&gt;Mas porque a amo, e amo-a por isso&lt;br /&gt;Porque quem ama nunca sabe o que ama&lt;br /&gt;Nem sabe por que ama, nem o que é amar... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amar é a eterna inocência,&lt;br /&gt;E a única inocência não pensar...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(O Guardador de Rebanhos, Alberto Caeiro)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115252092467053969?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115252092467053969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115252092467053969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/sou-um-guardador-de-rebanhos.html' title='Sou um guardador de rebanhos...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115229596416791348</id><published>2006-07-07T19:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T19:15:58.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'>twisted thoughts that spin round my head...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/black_amoura%20copy.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/black_amoura%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...&lt;br /&gt;All the love gone bad turned my world to black&lt;br /&gt;Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all that I'll be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Black, Pearl Jam)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115229596416791348?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115229596416791348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115229596416791348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/twisted-thoughts-that-spin-round-my.html' title='twisted thoughts that spin round my head...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115220172517923937</id><published>2006-07-06T16:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T22:04:48.060+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Somos os maiores!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/ementa_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/ementa_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que pena da ementa não constar &lt;strong&gt;galo depenado au champinhon&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Não obstante, o ORGULHO mantém-se e saímos de CABEÇA ERGUIDA!&lt;br /&gt;Terceiro ou quarto, pouco importa. Somos GRANDES e isso ninguém pode negar. Parabéns, pessoal! E... &lt;strong&gt;OBRIGADA!&lt;/strong&gt; =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115220172517923937?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115220172517923937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115220172517923937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/somos-os-maiores.html' title='Somos os maiores!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115209884510070363</id><published>2006-07-05T12:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T20:43:58.776+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quasimodo, quasicorridos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/quasimodo_amoura%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/quasimodo_amoura%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que maravilha!&lt;br /&gt;Até o Quasimodo - ele próprio franciú - virou as costas (mesmo marrecas) aos 'Croissants'! É assim mesmo!!!&lt;br /&gt;Vamos mandá-los para casa com une baguete dans le rabinho.&lt;br /&gt;Biba Portugali! =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115209884510070363?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115209884510070363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115209884510070363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/quasimodo-quasicorridos.html' title='Quasimodo, quasicorridos'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115203698051654216</id><published>2006-07-04T19:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-04T19:16:20.543+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Já pouco sobeja...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/ria_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/ria_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A principio é simples, anda-se sozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;passa-se nas ruas bem devagarinho&lt;br /&gt;está-se bem no silêncio e no burburinho&lt;br /&gt;bebe-se as certezas num copo de vinho&lt;br /&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;br /&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pouco a pouco o passo faz-se vagabundo&lt;br /&gt;dá-se a volta ao medo, dá-se a volta ao mundo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;diz-se do passado, que está moribundo&lt;br /&gt;bebe-se o alento num copo sem fundo&lt;br /&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;br /&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E é então que amigos nos oferecem leito&lt;br /&gt;entra-se cansado e sai-se refeito&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;luta-se por tudo o que se leva a peito&lt;br /&gt;bebe-se, come-se e alguém nos diz: bom proveito&lt;br /&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;br /&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Depois vêm cansaços e o corpo fraqueja&lt;br /&gt;olha-se para dentro e já pouco sobeja&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pede-se o descanso, por curto que seja&lt;br /&gt;apagam-se dúvidas num mar de cerveja&lt;br /&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;br /&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enfim duma escolha faz-se um desafio&lt;br /&gt;enfrenta-se a vida de fio a pavio&lt;br /&gt;navega-se sem mar, sem vela ou navio&lt;br /&gt;bebe-se a coragem até dum copo vazio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;br /&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E entretanto o tempo fez cinza da brasa&lt;br /&gt;e outra maré cheia virá da maré vazia&lt;br /&gt;nasce um novo dia e no braço outra asa&lt;br /&gt;brinda-se aos amores com o vinho da casa&lt;br /&gt;E VEM-NOS À MEMÓRIA UMA FRASE BATIDA&lt;br /&gt;HOJE É O PRIMEIRO DIA DO RESTO DA TUA VIDA.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Primeiro Dia, Sérgio Godinho)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque há situações, momentos, instantes que evoluem sem dar-mos conta... &lt;br /&gt;Porque o controlo foge-nos quando menos esperamos...&lt;br /&gt;Porque hoje estou assim... E tudo isto faz sentido...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115203698051654216?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115203698051654216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115203698051654216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/j-pouco-sobeja.html' title='Já pouco sobeja...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115193366987034025</id><published>2006-07-03T14:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T19:18:40.120+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Foi você que pediu?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/bifes%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/bifes%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Heróis do mar, nobre povo, &lt;br /&gt;Nação valente e imortal &lt;br /&gt;Levantai hoje de novo &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O esplendor de Portugal! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre as brumas da memória, &lt;br /&gt;Ó Pátria, sente-se a voz &lt;br /&gt;Dos teus egrégios avós &lt;br /&gt;Que &lt;strong&gt;há-de guiar-te à vitória! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Às armas, às armas! &lt;br /&gt;Sobre a terra, sobre o mar, &lt;br /&gt;Às armas, às armas! &lt;br /&gt;Pela Pátria lutar &lt;br /&gt;Contra os canhões marchar, marchar! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saudai o Sol que desponta &lt;br /&gt;Sobre um ridente porvir; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seja o eco de uma afronta &lt;br /&gt;O sinal de ressurgir. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raios dessa aurora forte &lt;br /&gt;São como beijos de mãe, &lt;br /&gt;Que nos guardam, nos sustêm, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Contra as injúrias da sorte. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Às armas, às armas! &lt;br /&gt;Sobre a terra, sobre o mar, &lt;br /&gt;Às armas, às armas! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pela Pátria lutar &lt;br /&gt;Contra os canhões marchar, marchar! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(A Portuguesa, Henrique Lopes de Mendonça)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115193366987034025?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115193366987034025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115193366987034025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/07/foi-voc-que-pediu.html' title='Foi você que pediu?'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115167388924762954</id><published>2006-06-30T14:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T14:24:49.266+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_1923%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_1923%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[...] custa-nos esperar calmamente por que passe. queremos que passe, ou que possamos descobrir um ponto qualquer de consenso sobre &lt;strong&gt;que diabo é isto e para onde vai&lt;/strong&gt;. aspiração ingrata, a de querer saber se somos autênticos ou apenas a elasticidade de propostas autênticas. que medo se formos não outros mas apenas os que estão depois dos outros. de não sermos suficientemente diferentes senão discretamente diferenciados. e queremos acreditar que esta semelhança seja só a incapacidade de vermos melhor onde estamos; que seja só a opacidade da nossa autonomia, que existirá, que se imporá, com o raio do tempo.&lt;br /&gt;[...] estamos à espera que alguém, talvez vitalmente, anuncie terra ou, quem sabe, céu para que a viagem seja maior que nunca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(a armadilha eficaz, valter hugo mãe)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115167388924762954?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115167388924762954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115167388924762954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115143587412114821</id><published>2006-06-27T20:15:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T20:33:36.330+01:00</updated><title type='text'>As palavras estão gastas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/lisboa_amoura.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/lisboa_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já gastámos as palavras pela rua, meu amor,&lt;br /&gt;e o que nos ficou não chega&lt;br /&gt;para afastar o frio de quatro paredes.&lt;br /&gt;Gastámos tudo menos o silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;Gastámos os olhos com o sal das lágrimas,&lt;br /&gt;gastámos as mãos à força de as apertarmos,&lt;br /&gt;gastámos o relógio e as pedras das esquinas&lt;br /&gt;em esperas inúteis.&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Adeus, Eugénio de Andrade)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115143587412114821?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115143587412114821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115143587412114821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/as-palavras-esto-gastas_27.html' title='As palavras estão gastas...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115106493757082724</id><published>2006-06-23T13:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T13:15:37.580+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Em vésperas de Son Joon...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_1745.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_1745.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115106493757082724?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115106493757082724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115106493757082724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/em-vsperas-de-son-joon.html' title='Em vésperas de Son Joon...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115091381010403264</id><published>2006-06-21T19:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T10:54:01.386+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/praia_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/praia_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neste infinito fim que nos alcançou &lt;br /&gt;guardo uma lágrima vinda do fundo &lt;br /&gt;guardo um sorriso virado para o mundo &lt;br /&gt;guardo um sonho que nunca chegou &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na minha casa de paredes caídas &lt;br /&gt;penduro espelhos cor de prata &lt;br /&gt;guardo reflexos do canto que mata &lt;br /&gt;guardo uma arca de rimas perdidas &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na praia deserta dos dias que passam &lt;br /&gt;Falo ao mar de coisas que vi &lt;br /&gt;Falo ao mar do que conheci... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No mundo onde tudo parece estar certo &lt;br /&gt;guardo os defeitos que me atam ao chão &lt;br /&gt;guardo muralhas feitas de cartão &lt;br /&gt;guardo um olhar que parecia tão perto &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para o país do esquecer o nunca nascido &lt;br /&gt;levo a espada e a armadura de ferro &lt;br /&gt;levo o escudo e o cavalo negro &lt;br /&gt;levo-te a ti... &lt;strong&gt;levo-te a ti para sempre comigo... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na praia deserta dos dias que passam &lt;br /&gt;Falo ao mar de coisas que senti &lt;br /&gt;Falo ao mar do que nunca perdi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Fim, Toranja)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115091381010403264?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115091381010403264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115091381010403264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/neste-infinito-fim-que-nos-alcanou.html' title=''/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115082484489726155</id><published>2006-06-20T18:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T19:19:15.990+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Viagem</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/marinheiro_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/marinheiro_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aparelhei o barco da ilusão&lt;br /&gt;E reforcei a fé de marinheiro.&lt;br /&gt;Era longe o meu sonho, e traiçoeiro&lt;br /&gt;O mar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Só nos é concedida&lt;br /&gt;Esta vida&lt;br /&gt;Que temos;&lt;br /&gt;E é nela que é preciso&lt;br /&gt;Procurar&lt;br /&gt;O velho paraíso&lt;br /&gt;Que perdemos).&lt;/strong&gt;Prestes, larguei a vela&lt;br /&gt;E disse adeus ao cais, à paz tolhida.&lt;br /&gt;Desmedida,&lt;br /&gt;A revolta imensidão&lt;br /&gt;Transforma dia a dia a embarcação&lt;br /&gt;Numa errante e alada sepultura...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas corto as ondas sem desanimar.&lt;br /&gt;Em qualquer aventura,&lt;br /&gt;O que importa é partir, não é chegar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Miguel Torga)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115082484489726155?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115082484489726155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115082484489726155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/viagem.html' title='Viagem'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115073878926698284</id><published>2006-06-19T18:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T18:42:51.273+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Oco dentro de mim...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/b%3F%3Fzio_amoura.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/b%3F%3Fzio_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei. Falta-me um sentido, um tacto &lt;br /&gt;Para a vida, para o amor, para a glória... &lt;br /&gt;Para que serve qualquer história, &lt;br /&gt;Ou qualquer facto ? &lt;br /&gt;Estou só, só como ninguém ainda esteve, &lt;br /&gt;Oco dentro de mim, sem depois nem antes. &lt;br /&gt;Parece que passam sem ver-me os instantes, &lt;br /&gt;Mas passam sem que o seu passo seja leve. &lt;br /&gt;Começo a ler, mas cansa-me o que ainda não li. &lt;br /&gt;Quero pensar, mas dói-me o que irei concluir. &lt;br /&gt;O sonho pesa-me antes de o ter. Sentir &lt;br /&gt;É tudo uma coisa como qualquer coisa que já vi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Álvaro de Campos)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115073878926698284?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115073878926698284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115073878926698284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/oco-dentro-de-mim.html' title='Oco dentro de mim...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115072923472203041</id><published>2006-06-19T15:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T09:53:35.646+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sons e Ruralidades 28, 29 e 30 de Julho, Vimioso</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/sonsruralissimos2_300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/sonsruralissimos2_300.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&lt;É já no próximo dia 28 de Julho que começam as actividades do festival Sons e Ruralidades. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em três dias de actividades pretende-se alcançar a fusão entre a Natureza e a Ruralidade através da expressão artística conferida pela Música Tradicional, inserida no contexto etnográfico e ambiental que a vai criando e inovando ao longo dos tempos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No decorrer do evento serão realizadas oficinas de construção de instrumentos musicais direccionadas para crianças, oficinas de danças tradicionais portuguesas, europeias e "lhaços" de pauliteiros assim como a aprendizagem e interpretação de alguns instrumentos musicais tradicionais do Nordeste Transmontano. Igualmente serão desenvolvidas palestras e tertúlias sobre etnografia e antropologia relacionadas com a música tradicional, evidênciando as suas origens, evolução, contextos e especificidades regionais. Para complementar estas actividades, serão proporcionados arraiais tradicionais, concertos musicais com os Dazkarieh e os franceses Dite 34. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A autoria do projecto pertence às Associações ALDEIA e AEPGA e é realizado com o apoio da Câmara Municipal de Vimioso, Instituto das Artes, Ministério da Cultura da Região Norte entre outras instituições da região que se uniram à organização para tornar possível o evento. Para mais informações: www.aepga.pt / www.aldeia.org &gt;&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115072923472203041?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115072923472203041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115072923472203041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/sons-e-ruralidades-28-29-e-30-de-julho.html' title='Sons e Ruralidades 28, 29 e 30 de Julho, Vimioso'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115040024625092651</id><published>2006-06-15T20:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T20:42:51.593+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mind gushing memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/lua_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/lua_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is moving to the song I hear,&lt;br /&gt;Who's that singing, wind is rushing in my ear,&lt;br /&gt;Mind gushing memories almost lost everything &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moonlight illuminate my night and my days sunray make the people say&lt;br /&gt;And a vision something's missing so they're screaming out loud&lt;br /&gt;Keep my feet on ground and my head in the clouds.&lt;br /&gt;I'm the arrow, you're my bow, shoot me forth and I will go&lt;br /&gt;And I know and I go and I go get up and go&lt;br /&gt;Make me feel its for real tell me what you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Time Of Your Song, Matisyahu)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115040024625092651?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115040024625092651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115040024625092651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/mind-gushing-memories.html' title='Mind gushing memories'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-115036747398180055</id><published>2006-06-15T11:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T13:29:57.716+01:00</updated><title type='text'>You really are much more...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/cegonha_amoura.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/cegonha_amoura.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now look into my eyes &lt;br /&gt;now look deep into my eyes &lt;br /&gt;and tell me what do you see &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't see you cry &lt;br /&gt;well just leave it behind &lt;br /&gt;I think you deserve much more than this &lt;br /&gt;you really are much more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Sun Goes Down, Blasted Mechanism)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-115036747398180055?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115036747398180055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/115036747398180055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/you-really-are-much-more.html' title='You really are much more...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-114960658893399953</id><published>2006-06-06T16:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T13:31:37.953+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Perhaps this final act was meant...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/p%3F%3Fr-do-sol_m.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/p%3F%3Fr-do-sol_m.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If blood will flow when fresh and steel are one&lt;br /&gt;Drying in the colour of the evening sun&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrows rain will wash the stains away&lt;br /&gt;But something in our minds will always stay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Fragile, Sting)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-114960658893399953?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114960658893399953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114960658893399953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/perhaps-this-final-act-was-meant.html' title='Perhaps this final act was meant...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-114926650753796590</id><published>2006-06-02T17:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T18:30:40.413+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Lisboetas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/poster.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/200/poster.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incómodo, intenso, comovente, obrigatório... Porque é necessário despertar as consciências, deitar abaixo os preconceitos e ver a realidade como ela é. "Lisboetas", de Sérgio Tréfaut, mostra-nos uma cidade diferente. Revela-nos uma realidade vista pelo olhar dos imigrantes em Portugal e leva-nos a mergulhar nas suas vidas, nas suas dificuldades, no seu dia-a-dia... Porque os vêmos como uma ameaça, ignorando que, muitas vezes, a ameaça somos nós... &lt;br /&gt;Prémio Melhor Filme Português no festival IndieLisboa 2004.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-114926650753796590?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114926650753796590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114926650753796590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/lisboetas.html' title='Lisboetas'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-114915633531353495</id><published>2006-06-01T10:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T17:20:10.676+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Janelas...</title><content type='html'>um fascínio... a alma de um local... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/janela_amoura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/janela_amoura.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-114915633531353495?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114915633531353495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114915633531353495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/06/janelas.html' title='Janelas...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-114911032687982844</id><published>2006-05-31T22:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T15:26:43.976+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Já nasceu!</title><content type='html'>Foi doloroso. Após muita choradeira, baba, ranho, cabelos arrancados e pestanas queimadas (literalmente...), eis que este blog nasceu. &lt;br /&gt;E com o orgulho a que toda a progenitora tem direito, tenho a dizer apenas isto: valeu a pena! =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/1600/100_1501.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1391/1634/320/100_1501.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-114911032687982844?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114911032687982844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114911032687982844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/05/j-nasceu.html' title='Já nasceu!'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29068816.post-114910861636298371</id><published>2006-05-31T21:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T21:50:16.363+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Um, dois, experiência...</title><content type='html'>Será desta...?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29068816-114910861636298371?l=memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114910861636298371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29068816/posts/default/114910861636298371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriasresiduais.blogspot.com/2006/05/um-dois-experincia.html' title='Um, dois, experiência...'/><author><name>atm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
