<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIMRX08cCp7ImA9WhRWF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485</id><updated>2012-01-05T05:29:44.378-02:00</updated><category term="glamour" /><category term="vermelho fechado" /><category term="havaianas" /><category term="emmanuelle" /><category term="4x4" /><category term="melancolia" /><category term="champagne" /><category term="ladeira" /><category term="mar" /><category term="concha" /><category term="gin" /><category term="monstro" /><category term="silhueta" /><category term="hemácias" /><category term="pratas" /><category term="fogão ferro" /><category term="fotografia" /><category term="rua" /><category term="sonho lucido" /><category term="corpo" /><category term="martine" /><category term="guarda chuva" /><category term="navio" /><category term="palpitação" /><category term="orelha" /><category term="enrijecer" /><category term="pulôver" /><category term="eleições rio" /><category term="história" /><category term="aniversário" /><category term="bossa nova" /><category term="madame" /><category term="taça" /><category term="febre" /><category term="gotejar" /><category term="cigarro" /><category term="zaire" /><category term="acordes" /><category term="pato" /><category term="memória" /><category term="completude" /><category term="jesus" /><category term="marido" /><category term="maresia" /><category term="gabeira" /><category term="viagem" /><category term="Dias nublados" /><category term="infinito" /><category term="absinto" /><category term="lentidão  feitiço" /><category term="picolé" /><category term="casamento" /><category term="libidinoso" /><category term="diálogo" /><category term="afinado" /><category term="roupa verde" /><category term="vodca" /><category term="acre" /><category term="cintura" /><category term="cortázar" /><category term="escaldante" /><category term="seios" /><category term="poça" /><category term="gêlo" /><category term="tilintar" /><category term="menstruação" /><category term="cinema" /><category term="espasmo" /><category term="madonna" /><category term="ovos" /><category term="vida pernas" /><category term="universo" /><category term="freela" /><category term="chimarrão" /><category term="pipa" /><category term="chave" /><category term="guampa" /><category term="rede" /><category term="massagem" /><title>Contos Interditos</title><subtitle type="html">Homo, demasiado homo</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>184</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ContosInterditos" /><feedburner:info uri="contosinterditos" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEHQ3sycCp7ImA9WhRTEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-4072111625987411510</id><published>2011-11-02T10:51:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T10:57:12.598-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-02T10:57:12.598-02:00</app:edited><title>Uma longa história: última chance</title><summary>Pois se o prenúncio era anunciado, nada como me preparar nesse momento de aceitação. Não sem antes uma segunda tentativa nada digna, fiz a cena completa, comecei falando que isso não era jeito de fazer as coisas tomando a decisão e só depois me avisando, e com todas as novidades culturais e dificuldades que encontraria por lá cercada por deusas negras altíssimas carregando seus pertences na </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/4072111625987411510/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=4072111625987411510&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4072111625987411510?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4072111625987411510?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2011/11/uma-longa-historia-ultima-chance.html" title="Uma longa história: última chance" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcBQXc4eSp7ImA9WhdbFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-5501397899352183641</id><published>2011-10-12T14:02:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T15:27:30.931-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-12T15:27:30.931-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="emmanuelle" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="champagne" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="zaire" /><title>Uma longa história: o jantar</title><summary>Se soubesse que ela iria se atrasar tanto para o jantar, poderia bem ter assistido um filme na mostra de cinema nesse meio tempo, havia um novo filme lésbico cooperação reino unido e frança que prometia, afinal as francesas tem sempre um jeitinho meio sapa que confunde a cabeça de todo mundo, deve ser a tradição de Emmanuelle no cinema. Tocou a campainha, a porta estava novamente travada por </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/5501397899352183641/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=5501397899352183641&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5501397899352183641?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5501397899352183641?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2011/10/uma-longa-historia-o-jantar.html" title="Uma longa história: o jantar" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cHQXo4cCp7ImA9WhdUGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-5237667368362087522</id><published>2011-09-29T22:15:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-06T09:43:50.438-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-06T09:43:50.438-03:00</app:edited><title>Uma longa história: primeira tentativa</title><summary>Seriam duas incansáveis semanas para mostrar a ela como era bom morar na cidade que dizem por aí é maravilhosa, que nem é tão quente como o Zaire. O ser humano é pego pelo estômago e nada como um jantar a luz de velas em casa, só nós duas, de surpresa. Aproveitei o sábado, que ela trabalharia, para aprender a cozinhar num curso rápido na internet: cozinhando com o google. Tinha exatamente duas </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/5237667368362087522/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=5237667368362087522&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5237667368362087522?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5237667368362087522?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2011/09/uma-longa-historia-primeira-tentativa.html" title="Uma longa história: primeira tentativa" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cBQHY7fCp7ImA9WhdUGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-764655140322811730</id><published>2011-09-26T13:01:00.010-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-06T09:44:11.804-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-06T09:44:11.804-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="acre" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="zaire" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="viagem" /><title>Uma longa história: a notícia</title><summary>Depois de dois anos dividindo a mesma cama, ela  me olhou e disse que dali há duas semanas ia para o Zaire. O Zaire,  isso mesmo, aqui do lado não é?Foi difícil responder a algo tão  inesperado, perguntei se ela não podia escolher ir para Belo Horizonte,  até o Acre era mais perto. Não, a decisão estava tomada, ou fazia isso  agora ou talvez nunca mais tivesse a oportunidade de aderir a uma  </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/764655140322811730/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=764655140322811730&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/764655140322811730?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/764655140322811730?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2011/09/noticia-inesperada.html" title="Uma longa história: a notícia" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkANRHYzeyp7ImA9WhZSEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-8636572123904374895</id><published>2011-03-27T11:04:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T11:06:35.883-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-27T11:06:35.883-03:00</app:edited><title>Na piscina</title><summary>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;     Normal   0   21         false   false   false                             MicrosoftInternetExplorer4   &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;     &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt;   /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Tabela normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0cm</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/8636572123904374895/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=8636572123904374895&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/8636572123904374895?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/8636572123904374895?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2011/03/na-piscina.html" title="Na piscina" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcCSH0_fyp7ImA9Wx5aE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-6871346330064912416</id><published>2010-11-09T19:56:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T20:01:09.347-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-09T20:01:09.347-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="aniversário" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diálogo" /><title>Diálogo Direto</title><summary>- Hoje comemoramos quatro anos de namoro!- Posso participar?</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/6871346330064912416/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=6871346330064912416&amp;isPopup=true" title="9 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/6871346330064912416?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/6871346330064912416?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/11/dialogo-direto.html" title="Diálogo Direto" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/TL86plpqkhI/AAAAAAAADmw/qV-bIowq2r4/s72-c/img030.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEHQXo5eSp7ImA9Wx5VGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-7352293591980825100</id><published>2010-10-12T14:19:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T14:30:30.421-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-12T14:30:30.421-03:00</app:edited><title>Eleições</title><summary>Em épocas conturbadas, deixo o link para textos com os quais compartilho minha opinião:Dois pesos...  Maria Rita Kehl - O Estado de S.PauloDar dinheiro aos mais ricos os torna “vagabundos”?, Leonardo Sakamoto'Desinformação' não serve à democracia, diz Marilena Chauí         </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/7352293591980825100/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=7352293591980825100&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/7352293591980825100?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/7352293591980825100?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/10/eleicoes.html" title="Eleições" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMESXw5fSp7ImA9WxFQE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-1469851907890768528</id><published>2010-05-07T18:15:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T11:03:28.225-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-08T11:03:28.225-03:00</app:edited><title>Carro roubado</title><summary>Em cada curva, olhando pela janela o asfalto, crescia um frio na barriga. Por pouco, muito pouco, ele não tombava, notícias de tombamento existiam dado os pilotos ao volante. Piloto em cima de ônibus velho e mal tratado, a vingança dele era com o pé abrupto no freio, o pé pesado no acelerador e a luta incesante por espaço com os carros pequenos. A cada movimento repentino, um rearranjo no </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/1469851907890768528/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=1469851907890768528&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/1469851907890768528?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/1469851907890768528?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/05/carro-roubado.html" title="Carro roubado" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcEQHg4fCp7ImA9WxFREk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-5243528277556784893</id><published>2010-04-23T10:24:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T18:46:41.634-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-25T18:46:41.634-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="enrijecer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="história" /><title>Quatro</title><summary>serenade for the dollE cá estou eu sentada uma vez mais na sua cama bem no meio de um feriado prolongado. É sexta feira à noite e os meus braços estão enrolados em volta do seu corpo, ela sentada no meu colo com o corpo encaixado. Eu posso sentir a sua respiração. Um suspiro mais forte sinaliza que talvez ela não esteja aqui.Você não está aqui, está?Ela enrijece o corpo e diz o que queria dizer </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/5243528277556784893/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=5243528277556784893&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5243528277556784893?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5243528277556784893?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/quatro.html" title="Quatro" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEADQns7eip7ImA9WhdUEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-3753825607181577192</id><published>2010-04-18T17:04:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T22:26:13.502-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-26T22:26:13.502-03:00</app:edited><title>Cena 1</title><summary>Duas calcinhas, uma branca, uma preta tipo boxer. Dois corpos se movimentam sobre a cama desalinhada. Na diagonal da cortina vermelha entreaberta uma vizinha atenta, uma das mãos à vista, a outra sinalizando masturbação. Risos e gemidos ecoam no vão central do hotel:Está bom assim?Um pouco mais para cima... isso, isso.E agora, está bom?Está bom!Quanto?Trinta e dois.</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/3753825607181577192/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=3753825607181577192&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/3753825607181577192?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/3753825607181577192?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/cena-1.html" title="Cena 1" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUDQXY4eSp7ImA9WxFSFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-8897581555069977215</id><published>2010-04-16T22:33:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T17:24:30.831-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-18T17:24:30.831-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="melancolia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vodca" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ladeira" /><title>A casa vazia</title><summary>lost insideMais um copo era enchido com a  vodca espessa vinda direto do congelador. Nalva bebia para lembrar das palavras que há muito não escrevia. Houve tempos em que bebia raiva, tristeza, melancolia e, muito freqüentemente, também alegria. Exagerava `a mesa os modos, as mãos sobre as pernas ao lado, roubava no banheiro beijos, ouvia retumbantes nãos na calada da noite. Na praia gelada se </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/8897581555069977215/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=8897581555069977215&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/8897581555069977215?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/8897581555069977215?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/casa-vazia.html" title="A casa vazia" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/Sboe4LdzwFI/AAAAAAAADL8/fzthj9MMbK0/s72-c/HPIM3499.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkIHRXg8fSp7ImA9WxFTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-990431844065485743</id><published>2010-04-10T18:19:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T18:22:14.675-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-10T18:22:14.675-03:00</app:edited><title>Vida de facebook</title><summary>Era puro eu: acordei com uma ressaca da festa de ontem. Era pura alegria: hoje tenho um encontro mais tarde. Ego-trip: fotos e mais fotos minhas. Só futilidade: tomei um expresso na esquina depois de comer o almoço que cozinhei em casa. Era enaltação: recebi uma proposta de trabalho inacreditável. Exagero: exausta de tanta diversão. Pura chateação alheia: vou pegar o ônibus em quinze minutos uhu.</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/990431844065485743/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=990431844065485743&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/990431844065485743?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/990431844065485743?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/vida-de-facebook.html" title="Vida de facebook" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4NQHw-cSp7ImA9WxFTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-5478771385276914666</id><published>2010-04-10T12:37:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T12:39:51.259-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-10T12:39:51.259-03:00</app:edited><title>De uma beleza sem igual</title><summary>conto de Adriana Lisboa, é só clicar aqui.</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/5478771385276914666/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=5478771385276914666&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5478771385276914666?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/5478771385276914666?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/de-uma-beleza-sem-igual.html" title="De uma beleza sem igual" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0INRXs8fSp7ImA9WxFSFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-722904970384919273</id><published>2010-04-07T12:42:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T17:13:14.575-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-18T17:13:14.575-03:00</app:edited><title>Na cama</title><summary>Tem mais?Se eu tomar mais uma xícara, vou passar a noite toda mijando.O que tu tá lendo?O outro, de cinema. Esse texto é clássico.Tá bom?Tá, esse cara é de Sampa, parece que ex professor da USP....Vai dormir?Vou daqui a pouco, e tu?...Meu amor?Humm?!Tu sabe que mesmo dormindo eu continuo te amando?!</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/722904970384919273/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=722904970384919273&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/722904970384919273?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/722904970384919273?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/na-cama.html" title="Na cama" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMCRnczeyp7ImA9WxFTFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-4612989706911476291</id><published>2010-04-05T09:59:00.009-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T19:54:27.983-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-06T19:54:27.983-03:00</app:edited><title>Preconceito</title><summary>serenade for the dollFiquei com saudades dos amigos e comecei a procurá-los na internet. Alguns apareceram, o seu nome foi super fácil Popa. De lá peguei o seu e-mail. Lembra da Marcinha? Essa eu não encontro de jeito nenhum – insatisfação.Eu também perdi o contato dela completamente. Dela e de todo o resto, uma pena.Faz quantos anos mesmo?Ihhh, desde o segundo grau, uns vinte.Agora nem segundo </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/4612989706911476291/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=4612989706911476291&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4612989706911476291?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4612989706911476291?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/04/preconceito.html" title="Preconceito" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsTrI-rWK7I/AAAAAAAADaw/byqEx668dZw/s72-c/44.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4HQXczfyp7ImA9WxBaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-4978343146656848124</id><published>2010-03-27T16:18:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T16:25:30.987-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-27T16:25:30.987-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="havaianas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="palpitação" /><title>Tudo é possível</title><summary>esferografiasEla caminha pela calçada lentamente na direção de Alice, mesmo tendo reconhecido-a faz alguns instantes os passos nem aceleram nem cadenciam, o coração talvez de um sinal distante de palpitação. Vem trajada com saia e blusa coloridas com alusão ao verão ensolarado, e havaianas como pede uma cidade cerceada pelo mar e montanhas. Olham-se, cumprimentam-se e se põem a nossa disposição </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/4978343146656848124/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=4978343146656848124&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4978343146656848124?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4978343146656848124?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/03/tudo-e-possivel.html" title="Tudo é possível" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_O_pnCKfgDPk/S0szRF3buAI/AAAAAAAAC4k/bCZbqbU5mK8/s72-c/festa+dos+mortos_2_baixa+res.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4ASXoyfSp7ImA9WxBbEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-3842674285394016021</id><published>2010-03-09T18:36:00.011-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T19:49:08.495-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-09T19:49:08.495-03:00</app:edited><title>Sanidade</title><summary>an angel at my tableCada vez que virava o rosto, uma peça sumia.Na tela, o filme discorria sofridão.Primeiro foi a camisa e os seios ficaram a mostra. Graúdos e solenes.Interna no sanatório, a moça parece esquizofrênica, de um lado gente gemia, do outro nariz e boca se retorciam.Era a quentura do quarto ela dizia, mas a janela não abria.Saída, sem ser fugida, depois de oito anos para a casa da </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/3842674285394016021/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=3842674285394016021&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/3842674285394016021?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/3842674285394016021?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/03/sanidade.html" title="Sanidade" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4BQXs9eCp7ImA9WxBUE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-6115681795511385116</id><published>2010-02-27T17:46:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T13:02:30.560-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-28T13:02:30.560-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="massagem" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="infinito" /><title>Da teoria a prática</title><summary>serenade for the dollEsse era sem dúvida um ângulo novo. Demasiada lindeza. Consequência direta da massagem para irrigação vaginal, desprovida de intenções sexuais, descrita num sítio com fotos de pessoas, digamos que, mesmo na mente de um ingênuo leitor, com poses de pouco teor profissional.  Compensou a leitura de diversos parágrafos onde foram nominadas massagens e seus efeitos compensadores </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/6115681795511385116/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=6115681795511385116&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/6115681795511385116?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/6115681795511385116?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2010/02/da-teoria-pratica.html" title="Da teoria a prática" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsZavlWfdjI/AAAAAAAADcI/ZbWT0laGPQ0/s72-c/33.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBQH04eCp7ImA9WxNaFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-4182476202867331826</id><published>2009-11-30T17:39:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T17:44:11.330-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-30T17:44:11.330-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cigarro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="maresia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="havaianas" /><title>Verão (-2)</title><summary>serenade for the dollOlhava incrédula para ela fumando um cigarro. O rosto emoldurado pela fumaça.  O quarto de paredes de madeira pintado de branco. Um descascado aqui, outro acolá, a janela de vidros largos por onde entrava o frescor da maresia. Ela, que nunca vira com um cigarro entre os dedos, fumava. Ela que há muito, muito pouco tempo, era apenas uma amiga. Os cabelos longos cacheados sobre</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/4182476202867331826/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=4182476202867331826&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4182476202867331826?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4182476202867331826?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/11/verao-2.html" title="Verão (-2)" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsaOPt93rfI/AAAAAAAADfI/RWaHhKsKzjk/s72-c/5.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08BRH8zfip7ImA9WxNbGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-2334106840695647928</id><published>2009-11-22T11:07:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T12:24:15.186-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-22T12:24:15.186-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rede" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="martine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vermelho fechado" /><title>Verão (-1)</title><summary>serenade for the dollSaiu do chuveiro com a toalha sobre os ombros, primeiro secou o rosto, depois as gotas de água escorrendo pelas pontas dos cabelos, segurou a toalha pelas pontas com ambas as mãos para enxugar bem as costas. Lembrou-se de voltar a ginástica na próxima semana, precisava desenferrujar os movimentos. Com a toalha de rosto desembaçou o espelho para se reencontrar remoçada, menos </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/2334106840695647928/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=2334106840695647928&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/2334106840695647928?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/2334106840695647928?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/11/verao-1.html" title="Verão (-1)" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsZjsTCl7VI/AAAAAAAADd4/vmuTaHfNNZM/s72-c/6.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8GQn05eip7ImA9WxNaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-6910627580193114094</id><published>2009-11-20T16:38:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T09:57:03.322-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-24T09:57:03.322-02:00</app:edited><title>Verão (0)</title><summary>serenade for the dollAdoraria usar o mormaço como desculpa, mais uma onda de calor embotava os pensamentos na pequena cidade de Paratintins. Desde as idas horas da manhã que lembrava do ocorrido sem conseguir explicá-lo, matutava incrédula estirada sobre a rede na varanda com um copo quase vazio de martine acariciando duas pedras de gêlo. No suado do copo via desenhar-se entre  gotas um detalhe </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/6910627580193114094/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=6910627580193114094&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/6910627580193114094?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/6910627580193114094?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/11/verao.html" title="Verão (0)" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsZdH8t7oSI/AAAAAAAADcg/9_w9xR2w-xg/s72-c/20.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAMQX8ycCp7ImA9WxNUFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-2417700053202046966</id><published>2009-11-08T13:19:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T13:39:40.198-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-08T13:39:40.198-02:00</app:edited><title>Deu no jornal</title><summary>esferografias

&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;     Normal   0   21      &lt;![endif]--&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:70.85pt 3.0cm 70.85pt </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/2417700053202046966/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=2417700053202046966&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/2417700053202046966?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/2417700053202046966?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/11/as-grandes-cidades.html" title="Deu no jornal" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_O_pnCKfgDPk/SorBTYpg_YI/AAAAAAAACsU/eefXuYKGmHE/s72-c/azuis+e+vermelhos.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEABR3Y8fip7ImA9WxNVE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-439649194146630271</id><published>2009-10-24T09:46:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T10:19:16.876-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-24T10:19:16.876-02:00</app:edited><title>O corpo de cada dia</title><summary>serenade for the dollFaz dois meses deixei de escrever: ela me consome, eu me consumo entre quatro paredes. Faz dois meses não abro janelas pra ver tudo o que já vi antes, a copa das árvores, os carros na rua, procuro novidades no ar nauseabundo enclausurado por paredes maciças, traço a cada dia minha novidade no corpo.</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/439649194146630271/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=439649194146630271&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/439649194146630271?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/439649194146630271?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-corpo-de-cada-dia.html" title="O corpo de cada dia" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsZfWzXHNeI/AAAAAAAADdI/Y9fw9BEHD-4/s72-c/26.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UFQ306fip7ImA9WxNVE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-8931010726881090977</id><published>2009-10-19T21:40:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T09:53:32.316-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-24T09:53:32.316-02:00</app:edited><title>Moça na janela</title><summary>esferografiasEra um abafamento de dar nó no corpo, as entranhas todas ressecadas, ela bebia um copo de água atrás do outro numa tentativa inútil de sentir suas células irrigadas. A jarra na mesa ao lado do sofá, o copo na mão direita e a televisão ligada no horário do telejornal da noite. Da janela vinha o bafo quente da boca escancarada da noite. A balela de sempre na televisão, crise aqui e </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/8931010726881090977/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=8931010726881090977&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/8931010726881090977?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/8931010726881090977?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/10/moca-na-janela.html" title="Moça na janela" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_O_pnCKfgDPk/SrTpv5wJVjI/AAAAAAAACtw/lb-af_fGEug/s72-c/mo%C3%A7a+na+varanda.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYHQnw5cSp7ImA9WxNXFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19983485.post-4400376273701199657</id><published>2009-10-02T09:07:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T10:28:53.229-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-02T10:28:53.229-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memória" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gotejar" /><title>Memórias de chuva</title><summary>serenade for the dollle ..n...t.... a..... m......e..........n..............t..................eg........t.......j...........a.........vo.......e.............................................................................ado meu corpoa presençado seu</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/feeds/4400376273701199657/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19983485&amp;postID=4400376273701199657&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4400376273701199657?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19983485/posts/default/4400376273701199657?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://contosinterditos.blogspot.com/2009/10/memorias-de-chuva.html" title="Memórias de chuva" /><author><name>Naomi Conte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06222217949900621879</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lLCQ5tRNPOI/SsWzyCe7SWI/AAAAAAAADb4/bm32PDveQBk/s72-c/40.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>

