<?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-31781930</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:49:23.579-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Breves Fragmentos de Sonho   Short Dream Fragments</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-3458483444797169326</id><published>2010-03-21T19:27:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T20:01:15.462-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hotel Los Angeles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/S6adtwXamQI/AAAAAAAAAgs/VYdibOFQtEg/s1600-h/viagem+sul+dez+2009+082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/S6adtwXamQI/AAAAAAAAAgs/VYdibOFQtEg/s320/viagem+sul+dez+2009+082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451217808381352194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Hotel Los Angeles, não havia anjos. Apenas cafetões, drogados e ninfetas prostituídas. No dia do meu leilão, me joguei da sacada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were no angels at Hotel Los Angeles. Only pimps, drugged people and perverted nymphs. On the day of my auction, I threw myself from the balcony.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-3458483444797169326?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/3458483444797169326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=3458483444797169326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3458483444797169326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3458483444797169326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2010/03/no-hotel-los-angeles-nao-havia-anjos.html' title='Hotel Los Angeles'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/S6adtwXamQI/AAAAAAAAAgs/VYdibOFQtEg/s72-c/viagem+sul+dez+2009+082.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-5601149789639989573</id><published>2010-01-08T01:29:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T01:55:31.432-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudades do mar / Missing the sea</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/S0apByP2iAI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/jgs_pxHkjak/s1600-h/praia+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/S0apByP2iAI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/jgs_pxHkjak/s400/praia+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424208649347565570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lembrou de quando não tinha pernas, apenas cauda. Depois de um tempo, ia dar um jeito de criar asas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She remembered the time she had no legs, only a tail. In the future, she would find a way to have wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-5601149789639989573?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/5601149789639989573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=5601149789639989573' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5601149789639989573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5601149789639989573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2010/01/saudades-do-mar-missing-sea.html' title='Saudades do mar / Missing the sea'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/S0apByP2iAI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/jgs_pxHkjak/s72-c/praia+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-1703085714371133134</id><published>2009-07-21T23:54:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T20:00:00.070-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A garota da loja de música  / The girl from the music store</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/SmZ_utA9-QI/AAAAAAAAAKE/JgLxuBN-jqM/s1600-h/Imagem+044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/SmZ_utA9-QI/AAAAAAAAAKE/JgLxuBN-jqM/s400/Imagem+044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361112846765521154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ela ouvia música e cantava. Depois, dançava.  De repente, me tomou pelas mãos e me fez dançar com ela. Eu que não sabia dançar. Antes de ir, falou baixinho, como se fosse um segredo: "Dance a vida!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She listened to the music and sang. Then, she danced. Suddenly she took me by the hand and made me dance with her. Me who didn't know how to dance. Before leaving, she said me in a whisper as if it were a secret: "Dance your life!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-1703085714371133134?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/1703085714371133134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=1703085714371133134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/1703085714371133134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/1703085714371133134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/07/garota-da-loja-de-musica-girl-from.html' title='A garota da loja de música  / The girl from the music store'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/SmZ_utA9-QI/AAAAAAAAAKE/JgLxuBN-jqM/s72-c/Imagem+044.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-720026136213045043</id><published>2009-05-17T14:11:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:13:07.894-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Caminho para a luz / A way to the light</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBFW7u6Y1I/AAAAAAAAABk/pOZZlNP3t10/s1600-h/escadaria.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBFW7u6Y1I/AAAAAAAAABk/pOZZlNP3t10/s400/escadaria.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336841818727932754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouvi um chamado e, sem saber se a voz era interna ou externa, fui seguindo as orientações. Não havia ninguém na rua, embora fosse segunda (terça? quarta? de manhã). Eu sentia o ar gélido penetrar minha blusa de lã. Por que não peguei o cachecol antes de sair de casa? “Entre no túnel”, corri para entrar em um túnel pouco iluminado, o guarda estava quase fechando o portão. No fim do túnel, uma escada enorme, e uma luz muito intensa lá em cima. Comecei a subir e, quando olhei para baixo... o nada. Os degraus sumiam assim que eu pisava o degrau seguinte. Não havia escolha, eu precisava alcançar a luz. Borboleta sem asas em torno de uma luz. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Cansaço e curiosidade. O que viria depois? Ao chegar lá, só brancas nuvens de algodão, tudo branco, tudo asséptico. Ao lado direito, um homem barbudo. Pediu meu RG, mas eu só tinha a carteirinha da Blockbuster, ele disse que servia. Dei alguns passos e, quando olhei para trás, o homem já não estava mais lá. Me deparei com uma porta branca; ao abri-la, caí em um tubo transparente muito escorregadio e, enquanto eu deslizava para baixo, desenhos caleidoscópicos eram projetados na parte externa. O tubo terminava numa calçada e desapareceu assim que saí dele. Olhei para o relógio e corri para o ponto de ônibus mais próximo. Eu estava atrasada para o trabalho de novo! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;*** &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I heard a call. I didn’t know if the voice was internal or external, but started following the orientations. There was no one in the streets, even if it was Monday (Tuesday? Wednesday? morning). I felt the cold air entering my wool sweater. Why haven’t I taken the scarf before leaving home? “Enter the tunnel”, I ran to enter the bad illuminated tunnel, the guard was about to close the gate. In the end of the tunnel, long stairs and a very intense light from the top. I started going up and when I looked down… the nothing. The steps disappeared as soon as I treaded on the next step. There was no choice, I needed to reach the light. A butterfly with no wings around a light source. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Tiredness and curiosity. What would come next? Arriving there, only white cotton clouds, everything white, everything aseptic. On the right side, a bearded man. He asked for my ID, but I just had my Blockbuster ID card, he said it was ok. I walked some steps and when I looked back, the man wasn’t there anymore. Then I faced a white door; when I opened it, I fell into a very slippery transparent tube and while gliding down, caleidoscopic pictures were projected outside. The tube terminated in a sidewalk and disappeared just when I quitted it. I looked to the watch and ran to the nearest bus stop. I was late for work again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(Postado originalmente em 18/05/2007 16:33 / Originally posted on May 18th, 2007 4:33 pm)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-720026136213045043?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/720026136213045043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=720026136213045043' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/720026136213045043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/720026136213045043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/caminho-para-luz-way-to-light.html' title='Caminho para a luz / A way to the light'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBFW7u6Y1I/AAAAAAAAABk/pOZZlNP3t10/s72-c/escadaria.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-5846767110037773188</id><published>2009-05-17T14:08:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:13:41.005-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragmentos de mim / Fragments of me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBEyTXQo4I/AAAAAAAAABc/51fkV4XP_Nc/s1600-h/mon+and+daughter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBEyTXQo4I/AAAAAAAAABc/51fkV4XP_Nc/s400/mon+and+daughter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336841189416018818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Eu estava andando pelo shopping, de mãos dadas com uma menininha. Ao passar em frente a uma confeitaria, ela me pediu bolachas. Expliquei que ali não vendiam bolacha, mas que poderíamos ir ao supermercado comprar. Não satisfeita, ela insistiu que queria entrar na confeitaria. Peguei-a no colo para que ela escolhesse um dos doces expostos na vitrine - ela quis um sonho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Coloquei-a de volta ao chão, para que eu pudesse pegar minha carteira e pagar. Com o sonho em mãos, fui até ela, que estava sentada em uma cadeira, as perninhas no ar. Quis chamá-la, e só então me dei conta de que eu não sabia o seu nome. Chamei-a pelo meu próprio nome e, ao pegá-la no colo novamente, era a mim mesma que eu tinha nos braços.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I was walking in the mall, hand in hand with a little girl. When we were passing in front of a sweet shop, she asked me for cookies. I explained her they didn’t sell cookies there, but we could buy some at the supermarket. Not satisfied, she insisted she wanted to get in the sweet shop. I took her in my arms for her to choose one of the pastries exposed in the glass showcase – she wanted a beignet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I put her down so that I could take my wallet and pay for that. With the beignet in hands, I walked to her - she was sat down on a chair, little legs in the air. I wanted to call her, so I realized I didn’t know her name. I called her by my own name and back to my arms, it was myself I held.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Postado originalmente em 29/01/2006 5:57 / Originally posted on January 29th, 2006 5:57 am)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-5846767110037773188?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/5846767110037773188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=5846767110037773188' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5846767110037773188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5846767110037773188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/fragmentos-de-mim-fragments-of-me.html' title='Fragmentos de mim / Fragments of me'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBEyTXQo4I/AAAAAAAAABc/51fkV4XP_Nc/s72-c/mon+and+daughter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-767986665246051798</id><published>2009-05-17T14:05:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:14:04.098-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Na lavanderia / At the laundry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBEKzx7roI/AAAAAAAAABU/_ezAMZ3Bxak/s1600-h/laundry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 374px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBEKzx7roI/AAAAAAAAABU/_ezAMZ3Bxak/s400/laundry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336840510923058818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;Na lavanderia, a máquina de lavar estava quebrada. Alguém me ajudou a entrar nela para ver o que estava acontecendo. Lá dentro era muito mais espaçoso do que eu imaginava e mais sombrio também. Eu estava de pé sobre uma poça, mas meu tênis não estava molhado. Escuridão. Quando olhei para frente, vislumbrei um corredor e fui em direção a ele... luz, clarão, o nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;At the laundry, the washing machine was broken. Someone helped me to enter it for me to see what was going on. Its inside was much roomier than I thought and darker, too. I was standing on a pond but my sneakers weren’t wet. Darkness. When I looked ahead, I glanced a corridor and walked toward it… light, brightness, the nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(Foto cedida pela Marina / Picture granted by Marina :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Postado originalmente em 04/10/2005 2:49 / Originally posted on October 4th, 2005 2:49 am)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-767986665246051798?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/767986665246051798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=767986665246051798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/767986665246051798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/767986665246051798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/na-lavanderia-at-laundry.html' title='Na lavanderia / At the laundry'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBEKzx7roI/AAAAAAAAABU/_ezAMZ3Bxak/s72-c/laundry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-3462475642128390079</id><published>2009-05-17T14:01:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:19:19.782-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Palabras</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBDP07erHI/AAAAAAAAABM/5venXxrC6kw/s1600-h/palabras.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBDP07erHI/AAAAAAAAABM/5venXxrC6kw/s400/palabras.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336839497619254386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;giu,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span&gt;De onde vem as palavras? Quanto tempo levam para nascer? Para onde vão depois que morrem? Por que inundam a minha mente e me levam para mundos estranhos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;São pecinhas coloridas de Lego. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Monto. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Des-mon-to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;©®¡☺. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Desvario.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Where do words come from? How long do they take to be born? Where do they go after they die? Why do they flood my mind and take me to strange worlds?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;They’re colored little Lego pieces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Iputthemtogether.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ta-ke-them-a-part. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;©®℮@†€.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Madness outbreak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Accross The Universe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(J. Lennon / P.McCartney)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Possessing and caressing me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Jai guru deva om&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Nothing's gonna change my world,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Nothing's gonna change my world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;That call me on and on across the universe,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Tumble blindly as they make their way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Across the universe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Jai guru deva om&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Nothing's gonna change my world,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Nothing's gonna change my world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sounds of laughter shades of earth are ringing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Through my open views inviting and inciting me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Limitless undying love which shines around me like a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;million suns, it calls me on and on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Across the universe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Jai guru deva om&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Nothing's gonna change my world,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Nothing's gonna change my world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(Postado originalmente em 29/06/2005 15:19 / Originally posted on June 29th, 2005)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-3462475642128390079?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/3462475642128390079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=3462475642128390079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3462475642128390079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3462475642128390079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/palabras.html' title='Palabras'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBDP07erHI/AAAAAAAAABM/5venXxrC6kw/s72-c/palabras.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-4448306552076604141</id><published>2009-05-17T14:00:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:19:00.948-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Última metade / Last half</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBCx-jjBhI/AAAAAAAAABE/ESfl3QwR0ME/s1600-h/papeles+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBCx-jjBhI/AAAAAAAAABE/ESfl3QwR0ME/s400/papeles+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336838984807155218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;No segundo seguinte, compreendi que a minha personagem havia se libertado da tela e dos papéis e fora viver sua própria vida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Eu, demiurga da vida por si mesma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;On the following second I understood my character had escaped from the screen and paper sheets and had gone to live her own life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I, demiurge of life itself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(Postado originalmente em 27/06/2005 17:27 / Originally posted on June 27th, 2005 5:27 pm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-4448306552076604141?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/4448306552076604141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=4448306552076604141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/4448306552076604141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/4448306552076604141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/ultima-metade-last-half.html' title='Última metade / Last half'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBCx-jjBhI/AAAAAAAAABE/ESfl3QwR0ME/s72-c/papeles+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-192694157119165696</id><published>2009-05-17T13:58:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:18:45.887-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Primeira metade / Fist half</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBCeNJ65gI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B2R3hPbuYPI/s1600-h/papeles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBCeNJ65gI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B2R3hPbuYPI/s400/papeles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336838645128816130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;Andei pelo corredor até chegar ao escritório. Um mar de papéis. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Na tela, apenas uma palavra: “Adeus”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;                              ***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I walked through the corridor until getting to the office. A sea of paper sheets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;On the screen, a single word: “Goodbye”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Postado originalmente em 27/06/2005 17:25 / Originally posted on June 27, 2005 5:25 pm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-192694157119165696?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/192694157119165696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=192694157119165696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/192694157119165696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/192694157119165696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/primeira-metade-fist-half.html' title='Primeira metade / Fist half'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBCeNJ65gI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B2R3hPbuYPI/s72-c/papeles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-44733410418932766</id><published>2009-05-17T13:50:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:17:37.790-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Máquinas e luzes / Machines and lights</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBBz0iLPXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/VcbDoCTEH4U/s1600-h/bingo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBBz0iLPXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/VcbDoCTEH4U/s400/bingo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336837916965158258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;Eu andava por um labirinto de máquinas e luzes. Não tinha noção do tempo. Ali o tempo parecia não passar. Algumas pessoas jogavam nas máquinas, outras, nas mesas. Era forte o cheiro de cigarro e números eram anunciados por uma voz melodiosa, quase inumana. De repente, "bingo!", e uma garota de patins se aproxima de mim para entregar várias pilhas de notas de R$ 100. Ela sorri, então entendo que tudo aquilo é meu. Pego o dinheiro, que mal cabe em minhas mãos, e assim que a garota de patins desaparece, o que tenho em mãos é um coelho muito branco, macio e quente que me observa em silêncio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I walked though a labyrinth of machines and lights. I had no notion of time. There, time seemed not to pass. Some people played on the machines and other, on tables. Cigar smell was strong and numbers were announced by a melodious, almost inhuman voice. Suddenly, “bingo!”, and a girl on roller skates comes closer to give me several piles of R$ 100 notes. She smiles, then I understand all that is mine. I get the money, that even fits in my hands and as soon as the girl on roller skates disappears, what I have in my hands is a very white, soft and hot rabbit that watches me in silence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Postado originalmente em 19/06/2006 17:06 / Originally posted on June 19th, 2005 5:06 pm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-44733410418932766?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/44733410418932766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=44733410418932766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/44733410418932766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/44733410418932766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/maquinas-e-luzes-machines-and-lights.html' title='Máquinas e luzes / Machines and lights'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBBz0iLPXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/VcbDoCTEH4U/s72-c/bingo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-4403295185851468115</id><published>2009-05-17T13:47:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:27:05.652-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O caminho / The way</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBI2yTmb0I/AAAAAAAAAB8/ESkMou8MNds/s1600-h/the+way.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBI2yTmb0I/AAAAAAAAAB8/ESkMou8MNds/s400/the+way.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336845664488156994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O caminho era longo e a estrada era deserta. Ia demorar para chegar. Na verdade, eu nem sabia se queria chegar em algum lugar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Long was the way and empty was the road. It would take a long time for me to get there. In fact, I even knew if I really wanted to get somewhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Postado originalmente em 31/05/2005 23:00 / Originally posted on May 31st, 2005 11:00 pm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-4403295185851468115?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/4403295185851468115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=4403295185851468115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/4403295185851468115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/4403295185851468115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-caminho-way.html' title='O caminho / The way'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShBI2yTmb0I/AAAAAAAAAB8/ESkMou8MNds/s72-c/the+way.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-3464950425808798129</id><published>2009-05-17T13:45:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:17:05.485-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pais e filhos / Parents and children</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA_X3Cjk1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/EcVucIcvWf8/s1600-h/desenho+na+geladeira.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA_X3Cjk1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/EcVucIcvWf8/s400/desenho+na+geladeira.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336835237578249042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Olhava para a porta da geladeira, observando os traços do desenho. “Essa sou eu, esse é o seu carro, essa é a fada madrinha... e essa é a nuvem que chove bala... aí as balas brotam e crescem e viram árvores de bala...” – lembrou de sua voz infantil. Aquele fora o último desenho que ela lhe dera. Mas ele estava cansado de ser pai e havia acabado de abandoná-la em um orfanato.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;He was looking at the fridge door, watching the drawing traits. “This is me, this is your car, this is the blue fairy… and this is the cloud that rains candies… then the candies spring up and grow and become candies trees…” – he remembered her childish voice. That was the last drawing she had given him. But he was tired of being father and had just left her in an orphanage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Postado originalmente em 24/04/2005 20:50 / Originally posted on April 24th, 2005 8:50 pm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-3464950425808798129?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/3464950425808798129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=3464950425808798129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3464950425808798129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3464950425808798129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/pais-e-filhos-parents-and-children.html' title='Pais e filhos / Parents and children'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA_X3Cjk1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/EcVucIcvWf8/s72-c/desenho+na+geladeira.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-5208722615452023654</id><published>2009-05-17T13:41:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:16:41.498-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Felicidade / Happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA-ikZ8W7I/AAAAAAAAAAc/y1RN0bZmqC8/s1600-h/daruma+and+lucy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA-ikZ8W7I/AAAAAAAAAAc/y1RN0bZmqC8/s400/daruma+and+lucy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336834322043001778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy: Quero te dar um olho de presente, quer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: Não... não posso aceitar. Só a pessoa que me deu este olho verde pode me dar  outro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy, pensativa: E o que você tem que fazer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: Realizar o pedido que ela me fez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy: E o pedido é muito difícil?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: Demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy: ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: A menina quer ser feliz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy: I wanna  give you an eye as a gift, do you want it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: No… I can’t accept it. Only the person who gave me this green eye can give me another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy, thoughtful: And what do you have to do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: To make her dream come true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy: Is her wish a very hard one?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: Too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Lucy: ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Daruma: The girl wanna be happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(Postado originalmente em 09/04/2005 21:59 / Originally posted on April 9th, 2005 9:59 pm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-5208722615452023654?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/5208722615452023654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=5208722615452023654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5208722615452023654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5208722615452023654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/felicidade-happiness.html' title='Felicidade / Happiness'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA-ikZ8W7I/AAAAAAAAAAc/y1RN0bZmqC8/s72-c/daruma+and+lucy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-227003849522511922</id><published>2009-05-17T13:38:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:16:21.335-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Anjo / Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA97jVKIWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/8gukSCN9q-w/s1600-h/anjo+no+cemit%C3%A9rio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA97jVKIWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/8gukSCN9q-w/s400/anjo+no+cemit%C3%A9rio.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336833651739599202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;“Em vida, nunca me viste, mas sempre estive contigo. Segurei tua mão tão pequenina quando quiseste pular o berço e quase caíste e também quando, anos mais tarde, te bateram injustamente sem que eu pudesse intervir – antes de perder a consciência, conseguiste me ver? No meio de tanta dor, acho que sorriste para mim. Gostavas daquela menina de cabelos cacheados que morava na esquina e por ela serias capaz de fazer tudo, até roubar dinheiro da tua mãe para comprar flores e doces para ela. Teus anseios, teus medos, teus pecados, tuas dúvidas, tuas alegrias, eu sempre soube de tudo. Porque sou teu anjo da guarda e hoje vou te levar nas minhas asas.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;*** &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;“You didn’t see me while alive, but I’ve always been with you. I held your hand so small, when you wanted to jump the cradle and almost fell down and also when, years later, they unfairly beat you and I was not able to do anything – before losing your conscience, were you able to see me? In the middle of so much pain, I think you smiled to me. You loved that girl with curly hair who lived in the corner and for whom you’d be able to do anything, even stealing money from your mother to buy flowers and candies for her. Your anxieties, your fears, your sins, your doubts, your joy, I always knew everything. Because I’m your guardian angel and today I’ll take you in my wings.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(Postado originalmente em 02/04/2005 18:54 / Originally posted on April 2nd, 2005 6:54 pm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-227003849522511922?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/227003849522511922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=227003849522511922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/227003849522511922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/227003849522511922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/anjo-angel.html' title='Anjo / Angel'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA97jVKIWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/8gukSCN9q-w/s72-c/anjo+no+cemit%C3%A9rio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-3203272672022083404</id><published>2009-05-17T13:32:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:14:41.687-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Nas nuvens / On the clouds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA8wgqH8ZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8xZ6VnOStwA/s1600-h/Banhado+-+S%C3%A3o+Jos%C3%A9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA8wgqH8ZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8xZ6VnOStwA/s400/Banhado+-+S%C3%A3o+Jos%C3%A9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336832362532041106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;— ... e a princesa morava em São José dos Campos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— Mamãe, a princesa da história pode ser eu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— ... e então a princesa Sara pediu para ter asas porque queria ver tudo lá do alto...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— Mas, mamãe, nós já estamos aqui no alto...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Era verdade. Estavam sentadas na beira de uma nuvem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— ... and the princess lived in São José dos Campos…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— Mom, the princess could be me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— … then, princess Sara asked for wings, ‘cause she wanted to see everything from high…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;— But, mom, we’re already up here…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;It was true. They were sitting on the edge of a cloud.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;(Postado originalmente em 01/04/2005 15:15 / Originally posted on April 1st, 2005)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-3203272672022083404?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/3203272672022083404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=3203272672022083404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3203272672022083404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/3203272672022083404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title='Nas nuvens / On the clouds'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShA8wgqH8ZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8xZ6VnOStwA/s72-c/Banhado+-+S%C3%A3o+Jos%C3%A9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31781930.post-5590870398163948576</id><published>2009-05-17T12:45:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:28:36.156-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's try again... =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Estou reativando a conta deste blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou migrar os posts do antigo flog que eu tinha no Terra, pois como o contrato com eles será cancelado, provavelmente perderia tudo que fiz com carinho entre abril de 2005 e maio de 2007 &lt;a href="http://fotolog.terra.com.br/brevesfragmentosdesonho"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31781930-5590870398163948576?l=brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/feeds/5590870398163948576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31781930&amp;postID=5590870398163948576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5590870398163948576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31781930/posts/default/5590870398163948576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brevesfragmentosdesonho.blogspot.com/2009/05/estou-reativando-conta-deste-blog.html' title='Let&apos;s try again... =)'/><author><name>aline naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02953945495333633786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MJa7Gco7SMk/ShNmZ9oCG0I/AAAAAAAAACs/Eqx9ElJwoRI/S220/aline+naomi.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
