<?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/opensearch/1.1/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0' gd:etag='W/&quot;CkcDQ3o-cCp7ImA9WhJbF0s.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407</id><updated>2012-09-27T11:34:32.458-04:00</updated><category term='Peru'/><category term='modinha'/><category term='Cala boca'/><category term='Ilustração'/><category term='O bom alheio'/><category term='Poesírios'/><category term='Cartas'/><category term='Crônicas'/><category term='coisas de casa'/><category term='Personalidades'/><category term='lookbook.nu'/><category term='Filmes'/><category term='Diário'/><category term='Turismo'/><category term='Desenhos'/><category term='cartões'/><category term='&#xA;Poesírios&#x9;Fragmoras'/><category term='Coração'/><category term='foto diário'/><category term='Estrelinhas'/><category term='Frases'/><category term='Culturas'/><category term='Poesírios   Fragmoras'/><category term='Fotografias'/><category term='Imagens'/><category term='Teatro'/><category term='rabiscos'/><category term='Testículos'/><category term='Frasoras'/><category term='Tiras'/><category term='músicas'/><category term='Faz de conto'/><category term='Fragmoras'/><category term='mulheres'/><category term='pensamentos soltos'/><category term='Cotidiano'/><title>Medo de Dormir na Luz</title><subtitle type='html'>Contos, poesias e fragmoras</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default?redirect=false&amp;v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>330</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CkcDQ3s6cCp7ImA9WhJbF0s.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-8767702380720140236</id><published>2012-09-26T12:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-27T11:34:32.518-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-09-27T11:34:32.518-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cotidiano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios'/><title>Toda ansiedade</title><content type='html'>A ansiedade é uma mulher enciumada&lt;br /&gt;
Que na loucura das visões imaginárias&lt;br /&gt;
Comete erros simplórios, sem perceber nada.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah ansiedade...&lt;br /&gt;
Não vaga, habita.&lt;br /&gt;
Não faz sexo, só complica.&lt;br /&gt;
Bom, nem mal, meu bem, a ânsia faz morada&lt;br /&gt;
E se manifesta&amp;nbsp;quando os sentimentos&amp;nbsp;elitistas&lt;br /&gt;
Fazem festa ao deixar-te desconfiada&lt;br /&gt;
Como uma jovem iniciante numa emboscada. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
O braço direito ou a porta principal&lt;br /&gt;
Da ansiedade&amp;nbsp;chama-se impulso,&lt;br /&gt;
Que dá acesso aos espaços&amp;nbsp;inevitáveis&lt;br /&gt;
Das incertezas da instabilidade emocional.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ansiedade é aflição.&lt;br /&gt;
Pena moral da impaciência.&lt;br /&gt;
É um poço de chocolate,&lt;br /&gt;
Um bolo recheado,&lt;br /&gt;
Uma torta folheada.&lt;br /&gt;
Um espelho inimigo da realidade.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A ansiedade não tem idade.&lt;br /&gt;
São caminhos aleatórios&lt;br /&gt;
Que escolhemos por obra do destino&lt;br /&gt;
Ou descuido de um segundo aborrecido.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
É um velho amargurado,&lt;br /&gt;
Sem netos, nem heranças,&lt;br /&gt;
Repleto de lembranças&lt;br /&gt;
Guardadas no passado.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
É bom não ir. É bom não ter.&lt;br /&gt;
Mas como evitar a obrigatoriedade&lt;br /&gt;
De levar a ansiedade para a sala de espera&lt;br /&gt;
Das decisões divinas que determinam&lt;br /&gt;
Os milagres e/ou as lamúrias?&lt;br /&gt;
O sim e o não são certezas.&lt;br /&gt;
O talvez é a ansiedade do agora,&lt;br /&gt;
Que faz o coração balizar trepidamente&lt;br /&gt;
Entre as veredas da comoção aflitiva sem hora.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sou toda. Mas de nada me vale&lt;br /&gt;
essa ansiedade, senhora!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-8767702380720140236?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/8767702380720140236/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=8767702380720140236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/8767702380720140236?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/8767702380720140236?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/09/toda-ansiedade_26.html' title='Toda ansiedade'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0YHR3o9eCp7ImA9WhJWFEQ.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-1573252591714317612</id><published>2012-08-20T17:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-20T17:45:36.460-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-08-20T17:45:36.460-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frases'/><title>Inevitável</title><content type='html'>Tenho amor dos mais belos,&lt;br /&gt;
mas as vezes escondo-os&lt;br /&gt;
até mesmo de mim.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-1573252591714317612?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/1573252591714317612/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=1573252591714317612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/1573252591714317612?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/1573252591714317612?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/08/inevitavel.html' title='Inevitável'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D0YCSXs5eip7ImA9WhJWEEo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-671954309956721198</id><published>2012-08-15T19:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-15T19:59:28.522-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-08-15T19:59:28.522-04:00</app:edited><title>momentos</title><content type='html'>Últimamente, minha vida tem se comparado a um jogo de futebol, no qual sou aquele jogador que se esforça, treina, dá tudo de si, mas no final acaba por assistir ao jogo inteiro no banco de reserva.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-671954309956721198?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/671954309956721198/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=671954309956721198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/671954309956721198?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/671954309956721198?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/08/momentos.html' title='momentos'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CU8MQns8fCp7ImA9WhJXFk4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-7856904998597786821</id><published>2012-08-07T15:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-10T17:24:43.574-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-08-10T17:24:43.574-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frases'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Coração'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cartões'/><title>Tenho amado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A5nn4q5b0IY/UCV7_LpOxCI/AAAAAAAAB38/BO0l5BxlDUg/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A5nn4q5b0IY/UCV7_LpOxCI/AAAAAAAAB38/BO0l5BxlDUg/s640/blog.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-7856904998597786821?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/7856904998597786821/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=7856904998597786821&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/7856904998597786821?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/7856904998597786821?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/08/pessoas-so-uma.html' title='Tenho amado'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A5nn4q5b0IY/UCV7_LpOxCI/AAAAAAAAB38/BO0l5BxlDUg/s72-c/blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkIESXY4eip7ImA9WhJXFk4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-4711307337681708002</id><published>2012-08-07T15:12:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-10T17:35:08.832-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-08-10T17:35:08.832-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fragmoras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frases'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Coração'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cartões'/><title>Imenso</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-fNnfJDqlU/UCV97Evz8-I/AAAAAAAAB4E/TzE6_V9qEVA/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-fNnfJDqlU/UCV97Evz8-I/AAAAAAAAB4E/TzE6_V9qEVA/s400/blog2.jpg" width="266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-4711307337681708002?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/4711307337681708002/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=4711307337681708002&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/4711307337681708002?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/4711307337681708002?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/08/o-amor-e-grande.html' title='Imenso'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-fNnfJDqlU/UCV97Evz8-I/AAAAAAAAB4E/TzE6_V9qEVA/s72-c/blog2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D0AHSX07fip7ImA9WhJXFk4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-2311958642139665098</id><published>2012-08-07T11:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-10T17:55:38.306-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-08-10T17:55:38.306-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pensamentos soltos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frases'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cartões'/><title>metAMORfose</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eSkMGaqFLog/UCWBo_oopNI/AAAAAAAAB4c/W_gmWKO69Gk/s1600/blog3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eSkMGaqFLog/UCWBo_oopNI/AAAAAAAAB4c/W_gmWKO69Gk/s1600/blog3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-2311958642139665098?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/2311958642139665098/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=2311958642139665098&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/2311958642139665098?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/2311958642139665098?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/08/da-vida.html' title='metAMORfose'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eSkMGaqFLog/UCWBo_oopNI/AAAAAAAAB4c/W_gmWKO69Gk/s72-c/blog3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CEAMQ3s7eyp7ImA9WhJXE0g.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-6529616621297490195</id><published>2012-08-07T10:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-07T11:19:42.503-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-08-07T11:19:42.503-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fragmoras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Coração'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cotidiano'/><title>Met-amor-fose</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Mudar dói. Metamorfosear-se é quase o fim. Renascer pode ser
uma oportunidade comum, mas&amp;nbsp;aprendizado para poucos.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
O amor é lindo e a vida com ele é um mar de flores, aparente
nos romances e na ilusão dos enamorados. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Por destino da intimidade, como de praxe, a vida tem me
levado a seguir outros caminhos, para o qual já havia deparado, mas nunca
conhecido. Por medo da caminhada às escuras, insisti na velha e cansada rotina,
só que por medo, imaturidade ou costume tropecei e me atirei no lago do descaso
e atravessei a estrada que tanto evitei. Evitei por vezes ser eu mesma. Lapidei
sonhos para encaixá-lo à outra metade. Naquela metade, fui inteira, mas na
outra metade faltavam gomos. A racionalidade dos dias, a vida revelou-me outros
lados. Amor e alma gêmea, lado a lado talvez só pelo momento, dia, ou vez. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Tenho amado pessoas, tenho vivido a vida sendo parte do
outro. Se o amor tiver dessas coisas, tenho tido. E padecido. E pouco lembrado
dos momentos felizes. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&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/1679084727534244407-6529616621297490195?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/6529616621297490195/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=6529616621297490195&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/6529616621297490195?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/6529616621297490195?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/08/met-amor-fose.html' title='Met-amor-fose'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;AkMCQnwyfyp7ImA9WhVaFUw.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-7517855377062094431</id><published>2012-06-12T00:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-06-12T12:27:43.297-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-06-12T12:27:43.297-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fragmoras'/><title>Só</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;De&amp;nbsp;Drummond, o apaixonado:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;"O mundo é grande &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;O mundo é grande e cabe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;nesta janela sobre o mar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;O mar é grande e cabe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;na cama e no colchão de amar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;O amor é grande e cabe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"&gt;no breve espaço de beijar".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;De todas as formas o amor, o prazer e suas lembranças saudosas estão presentes nesta obra poética, encaixadas de forma simples, sem dramas, nem os desesperos que o amor costuma ter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;Ao falar de amor, sinto que não devo, pois o único amor que tentei viver fui reprovada, antes mesmo de&amp;nbsp;aprender&amp;nbsp;a esquecer o gosto dos beijos macios dos lábios amarronzados.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;Aparentemente tudo parece muito fácil,&amp;nbsp;meio banal, quando na verdade o que&amp;nbsp;importa é só o emocional, o frio que abraça o coração esquartejado por desejos de ter aquilo que já foi. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"&gt;"O amor&amp;nbsp;é grande" e se instala todas as noites, estreladas ou não, em busca de um espaço na verdade dos teus beijos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-7517855377062094431?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/7517855377062094431/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=7517855377062094431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/7517855377062094431?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/7517855377062094431?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/06/amor-vista.html' title='Só'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D0YFRX0zfSp7ImA9WhVaEE8.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-3511920757823132128</id><published>2012-06-06T19:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-06-06T19:25:14.385-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-06-06T19:25:14.385-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fragmoras'/><title>A lua dentro do sol</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Quando chego em casa ainda sinto que vou te encontrar. Talvez os meus
dias ainda não se acostumaram a viver sem o calor da tua presença. É como se a saudade estivesse marcando teu corpo no colchão, para esquentar o vagão abarrotado de amor. É como se o
sol ainda não tivesse percebido que a lua anoiteceu. É como se o coração ainda tivesse se alimentando das tuas manhas, só para não ter motivos para te esquecer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-3511920757823132128?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/3511920757823132128/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=3511920757823132128&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3511920757823132128?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3511920757823132128?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/06/lua-dentro-do-sol.html' title='A lua dentro do sol'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DEMMSX05cCp7ImA9WhVbGU4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-7854075577613905666</id><published>2012-05-28T10:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-06-05T18:48:08.328-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-06-05T18:48:08.328-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios'/><title>Onde tem amor barato?</title><content type='html'>Lá na sala tem um cabo&lt;br /&gt;
que conecta amor &lt;br /&gt;
a qualquer hora sem defeito&lt;br /&gt;
com&amp;nbsp;macho&amp;nbsp;ou fêmea &lt;br /&gt;
de tudo quanto é jeito.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Amor barato&lt;br /&gt;
na internet &lt;br /&gt;
tem aos bocados.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No ciberespaço &lt;br /&gt;
tem o par perfeito&lt;br /&gt;
sorriso, altura, brancura,&lt;br /&gt;
bunda e peitoral &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;photoshop&lt;/em&gt;ado &lt;br /&gt;
e cheio de efeito.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Amor barato&lt;br /&gt;
na internet &lt;br /&gt;
vem com&amp;nbsp;kit-net:&lt;br /&gt;
prazer demorado,&lt;br /&gt;
carícias &lt;em&gt;mouse&lt;/em&gt;adas&lt;br /&gt;
e mancebo enquadrado.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Na&amp;nbsp;rede&lt;br /&gt;
tem &lt;em&gt;amour&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;br /&gt;
amr, mor, &lt;em&gt;amore&lt;/em&gt;, mô, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt;-i-y,&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;amare&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
para todos os gostos&lt;br /&gt;
e níveis de amor.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Há hiperlinks sem vergonha, &lt;br /&gt;
sem pré-conceito, nem defeito.&lt;br /&gt;
Há&amp;nbsp;santo que&amp;nbsp;desconfia,&lt;br /&gt;
mas há&amp;nbsp;irmão devoto que aprecia.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Atraído pelo&amp;nbsp;brinde extra ao vivo&lt;br /&gt;
a paixão pelo indivíduo&amp;nbsp;eletrônico vicia.&lt;br /&gt;
Logo&amp;nbsp;o coração&amp;nbsp;pulsante deprecia &lt;br /&gt;
e a&amp;nbsp;calça molhada denuncia &lt;br /&gt;
a cutucada em tempo real &lt;br /&gt;
do amor nada virtual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-7854075577613905666?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/7854075577613905666/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=7854075577613905666&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/7854075577613905666?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/7854075577613905666?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/05/onde-tem-amor-barato.html' title='Onde tem amor barato?'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D0UMRXg_eip7ImA9WhVUGE0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-6443468507327667480</id><published>2012-05-23T15:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-05-23T16:34:44.642-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-05-23T16:34:44.642-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='modinha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fotografias'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='foto diário'/><title>Sem medo da luz</title><content type='html'>A arte do grafite e a luz incrível&amp;nbsp;do dia&amp;nbsp;ilustraram a quarta-feira.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iMfpZ1qJxXI/T70-gTNiSpI/AAAAAAAABpM/Eu5evPslibQ/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iMfpZ1qJxXI/T70-gTNiSpI/AAAAAAAABpM/Eu5evPslibQ/s640/10.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7dK77Lxp0SU/T70-jDaG46I/AAAAAAAABpU/4kA1lv3eii8/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="564" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7dK77Lxp0SU/T70-jDaG46I/AAAAAAAABpU/4kA1lv3eii8/s640/11.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-6443468507327667480?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/6443468507327667480/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=6443468507327667480&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/6443468507327667480?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/6443468507327667480?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/05/arte-do-grafite-luz-incrivel.html' title='Sem medo da luz'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iMfpZ1qJxXI/T70-gTNiSpI/AAAAAAAABpM/Eu5evPslibQ/s72-c/10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DUYEQ3Y5eSp7ImA9WhVUGEs.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-5793578815241574282</id><published>2012-05-16T10:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-05-24T09:45:02.821-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-05-24T09:45:02.821-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mulheres'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ilustração'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rabiscos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Desenhos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios   Fragmoras'/><title>PARDA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Não sou de Pardos, &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
mas a Espanha invadiu&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
minha&amp;nbsp;entranha.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Não sou um nem outro. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Sou o meio que se resume a nada. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Sou parda. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Não tenho casco, &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
mas tenho uma braveza &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
que muitos homens empapam.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Eu sou o azo. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Vivo na escória&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
de um país tropical &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
que luta para preservar &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
suas florestas e aldeias&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
nos livros e revistas &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
distribuídas de graça no estrangeiro.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQbRVnxe590/T7OsdgLM-bI/AAAAAAAABoc/JnlYi9T_ssk/s1600/DSC03042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQbRVnxe590/T7OsdgLM-bI/AAAAAAAABoc/JnlYi9T_ssk/s640/DSC03042.JPG" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tDKEHfWiXRg/T7OshNE7N3I/AAAAAAAABok/YQr3lrcqWbg/s1600/DSC03043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tDKEHfWiXRg/T7OshNE7N3I/AAAAAAAABok/YQr3lrcqWbg/s640/DSC03043.JPG" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;AQUARELA + LÁPIS + NANKIN&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-5793578815241574282?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/5793578815241574282/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=5793578815241574282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/5793578815241574282?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/5793578815241574282?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/05/parda.html' title='PARDA'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQbRVnxe590/T7OsdgLM-bI/AAAAAAAABoc/JnlYi9T_ssk/s72-c/DSC03042.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkEMSHk8cSp7ImA9WhVVGEk.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-8472641704909383259</id><published>2012-05-12T13:44:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2012-05-12T13:44:49.779-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-05-12T13:44:49.779-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ilustração'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Coração'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Desenhos'/><title>Heart</title><content type='html'>A ilustração fala por mim...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mi2VC_fm4aU/T66dtnX02OI/AAAAAAAABn4/oNaB0SDaI9o/s1600/edit2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mi2VC_fm4aU/T66dtnX02OI/AAAAAAAABn4/oNaB0SDaI9o/s640/edit2.jpg" width="428" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gzFWudCV_xc/T66d0-5gAOI/AAAAAAAABoI/MPwmZdGv2Bk/s1600/edit4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gzFWudCV_xc/T66d0-5gAOI/AAAAAAAABoI/MPwmZdGv2Bk/s640/edit4.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nankin + aquarela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&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/1679084727534244407-8472641704909383259?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/8472641704909383259/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=8472641704909383259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/8472641704909383259?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/8472641704909383259?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/05/heart.html' title='Heart'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mi2VC_fm4aU/T66dtnX02OI/AAAAAAAABn4/oNaB0SDaI9o/s72-c/edit2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;Dk4EQHw5eCp7ImA9WhVVF0Q.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-25737003895453005</id><published>2012-05-11T23:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-05-11T23:55:01.220-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-05-11T23:55:01.220-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frasoras'/><title>Ouça bem, meu bem!</title><content type='html'>Eu queria que o teu coração tivesse ouvidos para ouvir a música do meu sofrer, por tanto te querer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-25737003895453005?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/25737003895453005/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=25737003895453005&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/25737003895453005?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/25737003895453005?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/05/ouca-bem-meu-bem.html' title='Ouça bem, meu bem!'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;AkcFQnc6fCp7ImA9WhVVFU4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-3376084154986663326</id><published>2012-05-08T16:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-05-09T00:33:33.914-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-05-09T00:33:33.914-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Personalidades'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Filmes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cotidiano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rabiscos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Desenhos'/><title>Rabiscando feito criança</title><content type='html'>Postar a essa hora do dia, vai render um textinho meia boca. Mas, bora lá, já to deixando a areia do tempo escorrer, então nada melhor do que fazer esse tempo roubado valer. Talvez, não valerá muiito assim, mas é que ultimamente ando meio ansiosa com a vida. No momento, tenho tentado matar essa ansiedade furtando&amp;nbsp;preciosos minutos do trabalho para rabiscar e relaxar um pouco. O resultado foi esses traços meio tortos que&amp;nbsp;lembram duas personalidades que me insipiram:&amp;nbsp;a personagem Amelie Poulain e a idolatrada Frida Kahlo.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9dp-jhNoqQQ/T6l-QtB2o5I/AAAAAAAABmk/IQyYFGcFRx0/s1600/amelie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9dp-jhNoqQQ/T6l-QtB2o5I/AAAAAAAABmk/IQyYFGcFRx0/s400/amelie.jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLbWN0Ml80U/T6l_KimhGaI/AAAAAAAABms/_ZyXagd1QdI/s1600/edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLbWN0Ml80U/T6l_KimhGaI/AAAAAAAABms/_ZyXagd1QdI/s400/edit.jpg" width="267" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Desenhos&amp;nbsp;a lápis no bloco de notas e caderno&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
Eu sei, não tenho talento. Mas, sou insistente e impulsiva. Qualquer folha limpa que vejo e um lápis de bobeira, tenho vontade de parar tudo o que estou fazendo para brincar de desenhar como uma criança, que não se prende a técnica,&amp;nbsp;se deixa&amp;nbsp;levar pelo desejo e pronto.&amp;nbsp;Ao final, mesmo o desenho estando&amp;nbsp;uma feiura só, eu acho tudo legal, como uma mãe que olha os traços do filho e elogia sem dó. Agindo, ainda, com a impulsividade ou a peraltez de uma criança, decidi gastar os poucos trocados que me restavam&amp;nbsp;para &lt;strike&gt;investir &lt;/strike&gt;comprar&amp;nbsp;alguns materiais para&amp;nbsp;desenhar feliz na madrugada (madrugada? Só para registrar,&amp;nbsp;tenho um sono crônico&amp;nbsp;e não sei quem eu tô tentando enganar com esse negócio de desenhar&amp;nbsp;na madrugada, rs). Bem, sem mais trelêlê, o material adquirido foi: um bloco de papel artístico (dizque), tinta água, caneta para nankin e nankin (nunca tinha usado na vida e na primeira tentativa eufórica quebrei :s). Com a&amp;nbsp;insistência de uma&amp;nbsp;criança teimosa, fiz a caneta quebrada funcionar e fui brincar de madrugada,&amp;nbsp;&lt;strike&gt;só porque tudo era novidade&lt;/strike&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LWtLftqbCCw/T6nmSwNC4_I/AAAAAAAABm4/hdiJVDBz8Wk/s1600/edit1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LWtLftqbCCw/T6nmSwNC4_I/AAAAAAAABm4/hdiJVDBz8Wk/s400/edit1.jpg" width="222" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02bhBhqoips/T6nmaDx0BdI/AAAAAAAABnA/9cyI5aqfxJ0/s1600/edit2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02bhBhqoips/T6nmaDx0BdI/AAAAAAAABnA/9cyI5aqfxJ0/s400/edit2.jpg" width="261" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m_Z4qgfXeXM/T6nmhwEH3MI/AAAAAAAABnI/ZjwbaK0nifc/s1600/edit3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m_Z4qgfXeXM/T6nmhwEH3MI/AAAAAAAABnI/ZjwbaK0nifc/s400/edit3.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nankin+aquarela sobre papel artístico 240g/m²&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Eita, tudo virou um desabafo total, mas ta valendo! Faz parte da vida, né!&lt;br /&gt;
E esse é o post de hoje,&amp;nbsp;diferente do que o costumo fazer aqui no &lt;u&gt;Medo de Dormir na Luz.&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
Vou nessa. Bêjo!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-3376084154986663326?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/3376084154986663326/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=3376084154986663326&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3376084154986663326?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3376084154986663326?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/05/rabiscando-feito-crianca.html' title='Rabiscando feito criança'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9dp-jhNoqQQ/T6l-QtB2o5I/AAAAAAAABmk/IQyYFGcFRx0/s72-c/amelie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DE4GQXg9eip7ImA9WhVXF0w.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-5101830792085545140</id><published>2012-04-17T22:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-04-17T22:42:00.662-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-04-17T22:42:00.662-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fragmoras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frasoras'/><title>Bailar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oj6xJ8DjFPc/T44pYJx66wI/AAAAAAAABlg/3Jy5SqpZYzQ/s1600/vest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oj6xJ8DjFPc/T44pYJx66wI/AAAAAAAABlg/3Jy5SqpZYzQ/s320/vest.jpg" width="290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Algumas circunstâncias imediatas da vida nos levam a viver somente de aqui e agora. Mas, uma hora tudo isso embola e joga parte de uma história fora. &lt;br /&gt;
Hoje,&amp;nbsp;aqui e agora depende do momento, da situação ou da música que toca o coração!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-5101830792085545140?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/5101830792085545140/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=5101830792085545140&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/5101830792085545140?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/5101830792085545140?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/04/bailar.html' title='Bailar'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oj6xJ8DjFPc/T44pYJx66wI/AAAAAAAABlg/3Jy5SqpZYzQ/s72-c/vest.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;AkAHRX07fSp7ImA9WhVVEEk.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-1167186716873313164</id><published>2012-04-04T12:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-05-03T08:38:54.305-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-05-03T08:38:54.305-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios'/><title>Nem mau, nem bem</title><content type='html'>Minha chuva é garoa,&lt;br /&gt;
Meu inglês é mau,&lt;br /&gt;
Mas minha mímica é boa.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Só destraio, &lt;br /&gt;
Não faço mágica,&lt;br /&gt;
Mas as vezes viro leoa.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Minha técnica é defasada,&lt;br /&gt;
Meu toque é leve.&lt;br /&gt;
Meu pensamento desastrado,&lt;br /&gt;
Mas meu coração é mestre.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-1167186716873313164?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/1167186716873313164/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=1167186716873313164&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/1167186716873313164?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/1167186716873313164?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/04/nem-mau-nem-bem.html' title='Nem mau, nem bem'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkYMQno_cCp7ImA9WhVQFUg.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-6624154098749984044</id><published>2012-04-04T11:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-04-04T11:43:03.448-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-04-04T11:43:03.448-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frasoras'/><title>Para Pessoa</title><content type='html'>Adaptar-se a uma nova rotina vale a pena quando a vontade não é pequena.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-6624154098749984044?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/6624154098749984044/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=6624154098749984044&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/6624154098749984044?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/6624154098749984044?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/04/para-pessoa.html' title='Para Pessoa'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0MFRn85fyp7ImA9WhVRGU0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-3219652252334961421</id><published>2012-03-28T00:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-03-28T00:36:57.127-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-03-28T00:36:57.127-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='O bom alheio'/><title>&amp; etc e tal</title><content type='html'>A atriz não está no palco, é o palco que está no interior da atriz.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
O teatro é a arte de olhar a morte&lt;br /&gt;
O abrir e fechar das luzes&lt;br /&gt;
O começar e o acabar da peça&lt;br /&gt;
O entrar e o sair do público&lt;br /&gt;
A morte é a arte de olhar o teatro&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Eva Peron de Filipe La Féria&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-3219652252334961421?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/3219652252334961421/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=3219652252334961421&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3219652252334961421?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3219652252334961421?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/03/eva-peron.html' title='&amp; etc e tal'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DEMHQHY6cCp7ImA9WhVRGU4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-5388248820987086626</id><published>2012-03-27T13:32:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2012-03-28T08:07:11.818-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-03-28T08:07:11.818-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios'/><title>Sonho de céu</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IILwqVRkbhY/T3IAZBMwKKI/AAAAAAAABjY/-Zii2JVexeE/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="287" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IILwqVRkbhY/T3IAZBMwKKI/AAAAAAAABjY/-Zii2JVexeE/s400/001.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://umbreveromance.blogspot.com.br/search?updated-max=2011-05-10T07:58:00-07:00&amp;amp;max-results=20&amp;amp;start=23&amp;amp;by-date=false" target="_blank"&gt;Ilustração Burgo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sonho é doce&lt;br /&gt;
Doce tem lira&lt;br /&gt;
Lira é verso&lt;br /&gt;
Verso tem poesia&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poesia tem sentimento&lt;br /&gt;
Sentimento tem fome&lt;br /&gt;
Fome não tem rima&lt;br /&gt;
Mas, paixão se come&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Se sonho é coisa&lt;br /&gt;
Se coisa é fome&lt;br /&gt;
Se sonho é pão&lt;br /&gt;
Então também se come&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Se não tiver, espera&lt;br /&gt;
Logo, os doces flutuarão no céu&lt;br /&gt;
Cheios de gotas&lt;br /&gt;
De açúcar,&lt;br /&gt;
De amor no ar&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Chuva tem doce&lt;br /&gt;
Doce tem flor&lt;br /&gt;
Flor tem mel&lt;br /&gt;
Beijos de menina&lt;br /&gt;
E sonho de céu&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-5388248820987086626?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/5388248820987086626/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=5388248820987086626&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/5388248820987086626?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/5388248820987086626?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/03/sonho-de-ceu.html' title='Sonho de céu'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IILwqVRkbhY/T3IAZBMwKKI/AAAAAAAABjY/-Zii2JVexeE/s72-c/001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DEUARXk_cSp7ImA9WhVRGU0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-3396120812372068926</id><published>2012-03-27T00:04:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2012-03-27T23:44:04.749-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-03-27T23:44:04.749-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios'/><title>Louca paixão</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oVGfC50kA-E/T3E8SAqUZWI/AAAAAAAABjQ/PKE5PDpUhow/s1600/headheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oVGfC50kA-E/T3E8SAqUZWI/AAAAAAAABjQ/PKE5PDpUhow/s400/headheart.jpg" width="297" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://umbreveromance.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Imagem Burgo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Os olhos adormecem, mas não sedem à luz.&lt;br /&gt;
O frio entorpece o corpo, mas o trabalho aquece a alma.&lt;br /&gt;
O tédio cai aos poucos, mas a solidão aos pedaços atrapalha.&lt;br /&gt;
Já é tarde, e eu velando a casa ainda estou.&lt;br /&gt;
Maria diz que não é mais menina, mas filhote ainda é.&lt;br /&gt;
Tremo quando diz querer abrir as asas da liberdade.&lt;br /&gt;
As horas de Maria ainda são minhas. São sim.&lt;br /&gt;
Eu atraso, mas tenho consciência do roubo desta vida.&lt;br /&gt;
Há quem me julgar um dia possa.&lt;br /&gt;
Mas agora só importa te ver doce, verde, serena.&lt;br /&gt;
Aqui te faço minha, lá fora nada te guardará sozinha.&lt;br /&gt;
Eu perco o sono, distraio afoito, mas não solto a tranca desse coração que me deixa louco.&lt;br /&gt;
Tu és para mim, ela.&lt;br /&gt;
Sei que estou velho abobalhado&lt;br /&gt;
Mas ainda sei, que tu és o meu refúgio, o amor que restou daquele lado.&lt;br /&gt;
As lembranças de outrora passam como filme quando os meus olhos tocam os seus, criança.&lt;br /&gt;
Teu cheiro me alimenta, me acende, me faz jovem.&lt;br /&gt;
Tua voz me seduz, me faz viajar para a intimidade da mulher que foi minha a toda hora.&lt;br /&gt;
Em ti tenho mais que o legado de uma louca paixão.&lt;br /&gt;
...&lt;br /&gt;
Em ti tenho ela.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-3396120812372068926?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/3396120812372068926/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=3396120812372068926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3396120812372068926?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3396120812372068926?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/03/louca-paixao.html' title='Louca paixão'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oVGfC50kA-E/T3E8SAqUZWI/AAAAAAAABjQ/PKE5PDpUhow/s72-c/headheart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkYMRHs-fSp7ImA9WhVRFEg.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-3260123127646598481</id><published>2012-03-22T18:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-03-22T18:09:45.555-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-03-22T18:09:45.555-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fragmoras'/><title>A vida e outras coisas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Há momentos na vida que paramos no meio do trânsito para deixar a vida apressada correr. Há horas que silenciamos e deixamos o mundo ao redor gritar, com suas buzinas e bla-bla-blas. Há minutos que resolvemos fazer a nossa hora e presentear o dia com uma torta, ou um verso. A vida não é como ela é. É como nós queremos que seja.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Como diz Jeneci: “Felicidade é só questão de ser”. Então é isso, temos vida para ser... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ser atleta para conciliar a jornada diária, família, trabalho, estudo, beleza e outras coisas. Ser máquina para realizar com mais agilidade as funções técnicas, criativas e outras coisas. Ser rocha para sustentar sofrimentos, decepções e tristezas da história humana e espiritual e outras coisas. Ser ilusionista mudar a forma de objetos, ambientes e outras coisas. Para ser é preciso ter, ou melhor, conquistar. Para outras coisas é importante lembrar que existe um verbo macio de pronunciar, amar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Para viver precisamos ter. Para sentir precisamos parar (aprender, sonhar, concretizar). Para amar precisamos ser. Para ter é preciso receber (reciprocidade é uma planta que precisa ser regada para florir). Para manter a coragem confiar em si mesmo é preciso superar os limites. &amp;nbsp;Para outras coisas, basta conquistar.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-3260123127646598481?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/3260123127646598481/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=3260123127646598481&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3260123127646598481?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3260123127646598481?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/03/vida-e-outras-coisas.html' title='A vida e outras coisas'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CUYESH0_fCp7ImA9WhVRFEk.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-8543848972801636285</id><published>2012-03-08T11:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-03-22T15:05:09.344-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-03-22T15:05:09.344-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teatro'/><title>Esquete Teatral - Dia da Mulher</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;O mulherão &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://pensador.uol.com.br/autor/martha_medeiros/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: windowtext; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Martha Medeiros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Dizem que a mulher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"&gt;. É o&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;"&gt;sexo frágil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"&gt;. Mas que mentira. Absurda! (Trecho da música “Mulher” de Erasmo Carlos).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Atriz:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"&gt; Moço, cuidado com ela! Há que se ter cautela com essa gente que menstrua. (Trecho do texto “Aviso da Lua que menstrua” de Elisa Lucinda).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Atriz:&lt;/b&gt; Peça para um homem descrever um mulherão. Ele imediatamente vai falar do tamanho dos seios, na medida da cintura, no volume dos lábios, nas pernas, bumbum e cor dos olhos. Ou vai dizer que mulherão tem que ser...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; ... loira,1,80m, siliconada, sorriso colgate.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Atriz:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherões, dentro deste conceito, não existem muitas: Vera Fischer, Leticia Spiller, Malu Mader, Adriane Galisteu, Lumas e Brunas. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Agora pergunte para uma mulher o que ela considera um mulherão e você vai descobrir que tem uma a cada esquina.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é aquela que pega dois ônibus por dia para ir ao trabalho e mais dois para voltar, e quando chega em casa encontra um tanque lotado de roupa e uma família morta de fome. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Atriz:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é aquela que vai de madrugada para a fila garantir matricula na escola e aquela aposentada que passa horas em pé na fila do banco para buscar uma pensão de 100 Reais.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #5f497a; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Plateia:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é a empresária que administra dezenas de funcionários de segunda a sexta, e uma família todos os dias da semana.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é quem volta do supermercado segurando várias sacolas depois de ter pesquisado preços e feito malabarismo com o orçamento. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Atriz:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é aquela que se depila, que passa cremes, que se maquia, que faz dieta, que malha, que usa salto alto, meia-calça, ajeita o cabelo e se perfuma, mesmo sem nenhum convite para ser capa de revista.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é quem leva os filhos na escola, busca os filhos na escola, leva os filhos para a natação,busca os filhos na natação,leva os filhos para a cama,conta histórias,dá um beijo e apaga a luz.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #5f497a; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Plateia:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é aquela mãe de adolescente que não dorme enquanto ele não chega, e que de manhã bem cedo já está de pé, esquentando o leite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é quem leciona em troca de um salário mínimo, é quem faz serviços voluntários, é quem colhe uva, é quem opera pacientes, é quem lava roupa pra fora, é quem bota a mesa, cozinha o feijão e à tarde trabalha atrás de um balcão. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Atriz:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é quem cria filhos sozinha, quem dá expediente de oito horas e enfrenta menopausa,TPM,menstruação.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Ator:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é quem arruma os armários, coloca flores nos vasos, fecha a cortina para o sol não desbotar os móveis, mantém a geladeira cheia e os cinzeiros vazios. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #5f497a; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Plateia:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; Mulherão é quem sabe onde cada coisa está, o que cada filho sente e qual o melhor remédio pra azia.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Atores:&lt;/b&gt; LUMAS,BRUNAS,CARLAS,LUANAS E SHEILAS:Mulheres nota dez no quesito lindas de morrer, mas MULHERÃO É QUEM MATA UM LEÃO POR DIA.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Atores: Ivan de Castela e Roberta Marisa)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-8543848972801636285?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/8543848972801636285/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=8543848972801636285&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/8543848972801636285?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/8543848972801636285?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/03/esquete-teatral-dia-da-mulher.html' title='Esquete Teatral - Dia da Mulher'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkEHQn8zfip7ImA9WhRaFU4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-3899462621518479393</id><published>2012-02-17T22:35:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2012-02-17T23:10:33.186-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-02-17T23:10:33.186-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poesírios'/><title>Versos sambados</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Abraço forte tem querer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Saudade doce tem desejo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Amor de menina tem samba, no espelho.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Reflexo tem laço.&lt;br /&gt;
Vestido sonhador tem vôos largos.&lt;br /&gt;
E rosa tem mais espaço&lt;br /&gt;
no mês de março.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Travesseiro tem ilusórias lembranças.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Calor tem teimosia branda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Gostar tem esperança.&lt;br /&gt;
Sabedoria tem herança.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Paixão tem poesia.&lt;br /&gt;
Música tem dança.&lt;br /&gt;
Gosto tem dono.&lt;br /&gt;
Cabelo tem trança.&lt;br /&gt;
Carência tem distância.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A vida tem estrada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;salobra, seca&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;e por vezes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;amarga e molhada.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Espera não tem rima.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sofrimento tem verborragia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alegria tem entusiasmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Felicidade tem energia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-3899462621518479393?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/3899462621518479393/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=3899462621518479393&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3899462621518479393?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/3899462621518479393?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/02/versos-sambados.html' title='Versos sambados'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CkIHQn48eCp7ImA9WhRaFU4.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1679084727534244407.post-116205201246653422</id><published>2012-02-17T21:58:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2012-02-17T22:02:13.070-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2012-02-17T22:02:13.070-04:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lookbook.nu'/><title>Só porque eu gosto dessa :))</title><content type='html'>&lt;script src="http://ajax.googleapis.com/ajax/libs/jquery/1.4.2/jquery.min.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;div id="hype_container_3058441"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1679084727534244407-116205201246653422?l=medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/feeds/116205201246653422/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1679084727534244407&amp;postID=116205201246653422&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/116205201246653422?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1679084727534244407/posts/default/116205201246653422?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medodedormirnaluz.blogspot.com/2012/02/blog-post_17.html' title='Só porque eu gosto dessa :))'/><author><name>Marisa Matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13214147410441744405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cb8u-Yq9OTg/T44lmPlvMYI/AAAAAAAABk0/AXo11vMvPyM/s220/luz.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>