<?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-6998425598634306996</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:16:24.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vitória</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Branca de Neve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13776838192762262467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbP4fdGNzkI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Msi9rmcuLk0/S220/GetAttachment3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998425598634306996.post-4669113282591485321</id><published>2009-03-12T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T11:53:59.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Imaginar*</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SblaLVcx6rI/AAAAAAAAABI/TTYEqPjJQHA/s1600-h/Untitled+87.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312376386243127986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SblaLVcx6rI/AAAAAAAAABI/TTYEqPjJQHA/s320/Untitled+87.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SblZUcvIFbI/AAAAAAAAABA/pZRIOq4HGxo/s1600-h/DSC00361.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Um dia sonhei que viajava de nuvem em nuvem à procura do tesouro dos duendes irlandeses. Que me soltava perante um arco-iris e que era salva das garras de uma bruxa má por um principe encantado. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Quero voltar a pegar nos lápis de cor e dizer vou pintar este céu de cor-de-rosa e este mar de amarelo, tudo pintado com cores vivas, pois um dia alguém me disse que a vida era um pote de cores vivas e que só a tinhamos de colorir com as cores certas. As cores certas, são aquelas que permanecem na nossa imaginção. Imaginar é sentir, é descobrir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Imagina, sente, sê criança.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6998425598634306996-4669113282591485321?l=vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/feeds/4669113282591485321/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/imaginar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/4669113282591485321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/4669113282591485321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/imaginar.html' title='Imaginar*'/><author><name>Branca de Neve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13776838192762262467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbP4fdGNzkI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Msi9rmcuLk0/S220/GetAttachment3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SblaLVcx6rI/AAAAAAAAABI/TTYEqPjJQHA/s72-c/Untitled+87.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998425598634306996.post-5657042482634548361</id><published>2009-03-09T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T14:31:21.229-07:00</updated><title type='text'>V, de Vida &lt;3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbWKgpynKPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/9bgu_1zX2F4/s1600-h/8AEigD288514-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311303629131950322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbWKgpynKPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/9bgu_1zX2F4/s320/8AEigD288514-02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Eram memórias antigas, nunca antes vistas, fotografias a preto e branco, mas momentos a cores, pessoas reais, sentimentimentos sentidos, lugares percorridos. Eram elas, aquelas pessoas que me fazem ter motivo para sorrir, que me fazem sentir orgulho, que me fazem sentir amor, são as minhas meninas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;O que seria de mim sem vocês? Aquelas manhãs, aquelas tardes, aquelas noites, tudo vivido com paixão, cada dia que passa vocês são mais importantes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Obrigada, meus amores *.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6998425598634306996-5657042482634548361?l=vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/feeds/5657042482634548361/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/eram-memorias-antigas-nunca-antes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/5657042482634548361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/5657042482634548361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/eram-memorias-antigas-nunca-antes.html' title='V, de Vida &lt;3'/><author><name>Branca de Neve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13776838192762262467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbP4fdGNzkI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Msi9rmcuLk0/S220/GetAttachment3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbWKgpynKPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/9bgu_1zX2F4/s72-c/8AEigD288514-02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998425598634306996.post-7910970375721354715</id><published>2009-03-09T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T13:59:22.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recortes de Jornal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6998425598634306996-7910970375721354715?l=vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/feeds/7910970375721354715/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/recortes-de-jornal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/7910970375721354715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/7910970375721354715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/recortes-de-jornal.html' title='Recortes de Jornal'/><author><name>Branca de Neve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13776838192762262467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbP4fdGNzkI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Msi9rmcuLk0/S220/GetAttachment3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998425598634306996.post-3436280591894646927</id><published>2009-03-08T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T09:04:33.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Presente, o mais importante.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbPsX-gXlpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dYamWDkd2AQ/s1600-h/GetAttachment9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310848282259854994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbPsX-gXlpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dYamWDkd2AQ/s320/GetAttachment9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;É um processo lento, com tristezas, alegrias, arrogancias, estupidezes, parvoices... Mas tudo com um significado. O universo tem significado, o mundo tem significado, a terra tem significado, a vida tem significado. Também tem tudo uma explicação? Será? Já tive menos duvidas. Nem tudo tem explicação aquilo que eu sinto não tem explicação, não tem limites, muito menos significado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Esperei por momentos que nunca aconteceram, por memórias nunca recordadas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Para mim tem significado as pequenas coisas,tem significado um sorriso, uma gargalhada, uma lágrima, um grito, uma carícia, apesar disso sinto-me presa por correntes de aço douradas, que apertam o meu coração até fazer ferida, mas isso, isso era antes. Agora não me sinto presa, não me sinto magoada, não me sinto frágil, sinto-me viva, com mais forças que nunca, para continuar a lutar, por aquilo que eu sei que existiu, existe e existirá. Neste momento interessa-me o presente, o momento, não quero pensar no passado nem divagar no futuro, porque estou a viver os melhores momentos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;da minha vida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6998425598634306996-3436280591894646927?l=vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/feeds/3436280591894646927/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/presente-o-mais-importante.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/3436280591894646927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6998425598634306996/posts/default/3436280591894646927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitoriamaral8.blogspot.com/2009/03/presente-o-mais-importante.html' title='Presente, o mais importante.'/><author><name>Branca de Neve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13776838192762262467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbP4fdGNzkI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Msi9rmcuLk0/S220/GetAttachment3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nZ7r6J2xmRk/SbPsX-gXlpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dYamWDkd2AQ/s72-c/GetAttachment9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
