<?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;Ck4AR3Y4cCp7ImA9WhRRFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276</id><updated>2011-11-28T02:42:26.838+02:00</updated><category term="life's goovie" /><category term="verite" /><category term="vama veche" /><category term="mare" /><category term="culori" /><category term="vie" /><category term="blah blah" /><category term="pizza" /><category term="toamna" /><category term="positivisme" /><category term="monde" /><category term="implinite" /><category term="contradiction" /><category term="lumiere" /><category term="francais" /><category term="complaining" /><category term="muzica" /><category term="polution" /><category term="poetry" /><category term="rasrit" /><category term="poezie" /><category term="attitude" /><category term="questions" /><category term="suflet" /><category term="copaci" /><title>Multilingual thought glimpses</title><subtitle type="html">I hate blogs!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</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/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses" /><feedburner:info uri="multilingualthoughtglimpses" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8ARngyeCp7ImA9Wx9WGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-5331782552270423027</id><published>2011-01-23T19:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T19:47:27.690+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-23T19:47:27.690+02:00</app:edited><title>imi place de mine cand gandesc asa :</title><content type="html">21.iun.2009 0ra 00:34 … devreme &lt;br /&gt;
   Muzica sufletului meu aleargã cu mine pe valurile imense ce mã poartã prin lume in ritmul bãtãilor inimii redescoperite … Aceasta nu este una din extremele mele stãri ci este echilibrul la care visam, plin de împlinire de sigurantã si cel mai important , iubire. Azi notiunea de vis este exageratã pentru cã visul este realitate, devine realitate. Pe zi ce trece mã desprind mai mult de profan zburând pe aripile uimitoare, emotionante si pline de mister ale sacrului din prezent. &lt;br /&gt;
     Îmi spun mereu si azi o simt …. cã atunci când cazi si te ridici a mia oarã, ridicarea este mai sus, te inalti cu aripi noi spre lumi nevãzute, reale, spirituale. Am  zâmbetul în ochi si-n mana viata, iubirea strãluceste-n piept si-mi lumineazã fata.&lt;br /&gt;
      Tot ce vreau pot si pot sã vreau! E rolul meu sã zbor mereu si sã arãt într-al meu zbor de cãlãtor imensitatea iubirii. Poate cã par sectantã. Râd gandindu-mã la interpretãrile lumesti, umane ale spuselor mele.Cuvântul ca Logos rãmâne pentru totdeauna acolo unde sãmânta a cazut bine… iar unde s-a amestecat cu profanul dã nastere la interpretãri interpretabile interpretate de interpreti din toatã lumea… Azi realizez ca nu regret nici una din cãderile mele, altfel nu ajungeam aici si Doamne unde plãnuiesc sã ajung! Îmi va fi greu si drumul va fi lung, dar câte vise am !… Ajung sã umplu galaxia toatã, s-o înconjor si înc-o datã  sã le împart cu dor.&lt;br /&gt;
       Normal… când cazi de sus doare mai tare, dar când ajungi la înãltare nu s-a inventat unitate de mãsurare a fericirii simtite. Iubirea nu se cautã, iubirea e în tine! Si paradoxal dãruind-o se va înmulti. Eu sunt parte din propria mea scapare  si nimeni altul din profan. Închizând ochii-n întuneric îmi vãd sufletul luminând mai tare decât soarele, dar fãrã sã-mi rãneascã ochii, si nu fierbinte arzãtor ca iubirile de-o clipã, ci cald si calm, fericit cã am descoperit o micã parte din adevãrul pierdut de veacuri.&lt;br /&gt;
        Corpul acesta de pamant trebuie educat. Caci il hranim cu viciu pana in mormant fara sa stim unde ne-am incurcat. Amintiri, invataminte, unitate, lumina, ras si atemporalitate intalnite azi, printre noi profanii  sunt cele ce dau sensuri noi realitatii, si dau indicii spre comori nepretuite, fara de preturi umane.Viata este un continuu inceput si sfarsit, timpul de fapt are frecventa sufletelor noastre si timpul nu trece ci se invarte in jurul nostru asteptand mereu sa facem alegerile corecte. Nu exista oameni invatati, nu exista teorie tot ce trebuie sa stim se simte. Explorarea sufletului tau, cunoasterea adevarului despre tine iti va darui libertatea.&lt;br /&gt;
        Stelele de pe cer nu se cauta undeva departe ci in noi!  “Spatiu”? asta nu intelegi ca tu esti cel mai vast spatiu, totul se afla in tine si tu in tot… Este mai greu de inteles pentru noi oamenii dar trebuie simtit si  atat. Matematica este o minciuna sfruntatã, armã a manipulãrii de mase. Învat-o simtind si ai sa cunosti diferenta. Sa simti matematica … ce încântare! Numere de aur si simplitate… rafinament si minimalism în rochii  de searã…&lt;br /&gt;
       Cred ca iubirea între douã fiinte este atunci când acestia simt la aceiasi frecventa spatio-temporala , cand sunt mereu unul langa celalalt chiar la distante de netrecut. &lt;br /&gt;
       Si-mi pun o întrebare totusi… dacã gãsesti iubirea din tine si rolul  tãu e sa o arãti si altora în sufletul  lor … mai existã acel suflet pereche? Si daca da, ce rol are? De fapt, ce rol au numerele pare?&lt;br /&gt;
       Dacã iubirea între doi oameni este doar o tehnicã de manipulare a energiei negative? Desi, dacã este realã propagã energie pozitivã… Dar matematica fiind falsã si numerele pare fãrã un sens real, de ce ar trebui sã existe perechi?&lt;br /&gt;
       Doar dacã câte un suflet a fost turnat în douã recipiente… Fizic s-ar putea explica astfel. Acum… cãutatrea neîncetatã a celuilalt… s-a transformat in monstri cu mii de capete.&lt;br /&gt;
        Poate-ntr-o zi am sã descopãr adevãrul dar asta tine doar de ceea ce nu cunosc despre suflete. Este cert cã ambalajul, în cãutarea iubirii supreme, decade si cade în capcana neiubirii, deci, nu are cum sa fie doar un mod de manipulare instalat în ambalaje. Dar robotii se pierd pe drum, surzi si orbi, fãrã mâini si picioare, strigând disperati spre zei creati din disperare.&lt;br /&gt;
       Mi-e teamã sã deschid acest subiect dar astfel voi stabili  cine sunt acum. &lt;br /&gt;
Dumnezeu pentru mine este absolut, un tot de iubire din care facem parte si &lt;br /&gt;
care face parte din noi. &lt;br /&gt;
Nu spun deloc ca noi suntem Dumnezeu, caci ne-am pierdut si am orbit.&lt;br /&gt;
Dar Dumnzeu ne vede înca,  în neajutorarea noastrã cum încercãm sã renegãm si ceea ce a rãmas din El în profan… si-L doare infinit, asa cum este de fapt. Dumnezeu este iubire! Si ne iubeste înca, printre lacrimile ce I le provocam. Lacrimi de Dumnezeu, normal nu ca ale noastre.&lt;br /&gt;
… Cum sã-ti pierzi cel mai drag prieten vreodatã fãrã sa-ti dai seama cã de langã tine l-ai alungat? Sufletul tãu hoinãreste singur acum, undeva prin lume, plângându-ti lipsa si dorul.&lt;br /&gt;
      Oooh, cât mi-as dori sã întelegi ce spun, tu, ochi needucat ce vei  citi aceste rânduri si mã vei judeca… &lt;br /&gt;
       Iubeste!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-5331782552270423027?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I3elaSmrA-I2F-oTCoSQY12s9zM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I3elaSmrA-I2F-oTCoSQY12s9zM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/z6LGUz8d8C0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/5331782552270423027/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2011/01/imi-place-de-mine-cand-gandesc-asa.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/5331782552270423027?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/5331782552270423027?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/z6LGUz8d8C0/imi-place-de-mine-cand-gandesc-asa.html" title="imi place de mine cand gandesc asa :" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2011/01/imi-place-de-mine-cand-gandesc-asa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQBSH44eCp7ImA9WxBXE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-8856185825066390883</id><published>2010-01-24T23:58:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T23:59:19.030+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-24T23:59:19.030+02:00</app:edited><title>Letter to an alien … This is how humans work :</title><content type="html">Once upon a time there was this age when I had purity in thought and action, an unseen smile inside my heart which spreaded light trough shaded sleepy eyes and no worries. The age of pure happiness in thought and action, with no time and space around, just the inner sparking circle of my dreamy world that I found amassing. There were no words to describe feelings and yet I felt intensely this huge universe that I had no questions about. &lt;br /&gt;
Then came this weird time when the box which contained my soul started to grow, and feed, and consume and ask about all these exterior things it noticed. Things that otherwise had no importance for my world inside. But the exterior world is tricky and it plays unfair games absorbing all these existing bodies making them forget they have souls inside. So I grew up asking questions, playing exterior games that spined me in this vicious “knowledge” game that actually subordinated me, like all those others, to this fake exterior reality we all came to accept as “true”. The soul containers that had asked questions before you and had received some “answers” that made them form other questions were the “wise” ones that gave us then “answers”. That is good, that is not good, this is time, this is power, this is what you should do (meaning what you have to do) and so on explaining (imposing) the rules of this fake game called “life”. &lt;br /&gt;
We, the bodies, learnt then the art of making “robots” so that we, later on, knew what we were supposed to transform ourselves into. But THEY never give you complete answers, because THEY need the questions in our heads to keep the “game” alive so one keeps guessing. So … I guess … we are all different types of “robots” so manufactured to tend to pretend to search “perfection” and “absolute knowledge” keeping our “circuits” functional by questions and answers  and most of all throwing in our faces all the reasons for pessimism, passive revolt and whatnot … Because “this is how life works, folks” or … is it? (Attention question mark) . &lt;br /&gt;
So mister alien … I guess you can take our souls as fuel for your ship because as you see, we don’t have what to use them for. Or do we? (Attention question mark again)…&lt;br /&gt;
Will I die if I stop asking questions and start feeling again, from zero? Don’t answer, I am living the answer … See you on the inside!&lt;br /&gt;
Anca Elena Petrache (or at least it's what THEY say)&lt;br /&gt;
(24.01.2010)&lt;br /&gt;
btw: http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/They&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-8856185825066390883?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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(23.09.09)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pictez culori desarte&lt;br /&gt;
Cu acuarele moarte&lt;br /&gt;
Ce coala-mi le îndurã&lt;br /&gt;
Privatã de cãldurã.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mã simt sfârsit de început.&lt;br /&gt;
Aceiasi aripã de lut&lt;br /&gt;
Ce îmi umbreste zborul&lt;br /&gt;
N-atinge încã norul.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
E-un sentiment pasiv&lt;br /&gt;
Curgând prin vine fugitiv,&lt;br /&gt;
Ce-mi amorteste chipul&lt;br /&gt;
Fugind sub tãlpi nisipul.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Însã de astã datã&lt;br /&gt;
Voi fi eu insumi, tatã!&lt;br /&gt;
Rãbdând cumplitul zmeu&lt;br /&gt;
Din gura mea de leu.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Voi merita premiul primit!&lt;br /&gt;
Lupta pentru ce mi-am dorit&lt;br /&gt;
Durerea ei de os ciobit&lt;br /&gt;
Si oricâte-as fi pãtimit…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
…Vor merita rãsplata mea!&lt;br /&gt;
Oricât de lungã si de grea&lt;br /&gt;
Va fi fost asteptarea,&lt;br /&gt;
Secretul meritã rãscumpãrarea!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-6346148695948575861?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bCltQpjFKsLMK1d4BSsU_XXKRws/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bCltQpjFKsLMK1d4BSsU_XXKRws/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/wM7iSozhPHg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/6346148695948575861/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2010/01/secret.html#comment-form" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/6346148695948575861?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/6346148695948575861?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/wM7iSozhPHg/secret.html" title="Secret" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2010/01/secret.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MGRHw_cSp7ImA9WxBQGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-5410851665663671245</id><published>2010-01-20T10:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T10:17:05.249+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-20T10:17:05.249+02:00</app:edited><title>Planuri pentru azi</title><content type="html">de E.A.P&lt;br /&gt;
                                                  ( 11.03.09)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Aer crud de frig în dimineata&lt;br /&gt;
Gândurilor ce zboarã pe fereastrã&lt;br /&gt;
Cartea se terminã cu prefata&lt;br /&gt;
Parfumului de val din marea noastrã&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
                                   &lt;br /&gt;
Un ritual de veacuri stins mã cheamã,&lt;br /&gt;
Acel surâs interior ce mângâie.&lt;br /&gt;
Iau simturile din sertar in inimã.&lt;br /&gt;
Farul furtunii pierdut azi pâlpâie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Azi am sã ies în soare-afarã&lt;br /&gt;
Si am sã joc sotron si mimã&lt;br /&gt;
Si-o sã-mi întind visul de la scarã&lt;br /&gt;
Pânã la celãlalt capãt de limitã!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Si-am sã joc elastic!&lt;br /&gt;
Cu gândul devenit rigid&lt;br /&gt;
Cu râsul ce-l aveam lipit&lt;br /&gt;
Si-am sã-nvii tot ce e plastic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-5410851665663671245?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/smCMYqRMYAAc5HL-pzCT6gz9FJc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/smCMYqRMYAAc5HL-pzCT6gz9FJc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/UyQqtleg0eo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/5410851665663671245/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2010/01/planuri-pentru-azi.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/5410851665663671245?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/5410851665663671245?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/UyQqtleg0eo/planuri-pentru-azi.html" title="Planuri pentru azi" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2010/01/planuri-pentru-azi.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cMRns-cSp7ImA9WxBQE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-6931565319647602893</id><published>2010-01-12T13:10:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T17:11:27.559+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-12T17:11:27.559+02:00</app:edited><title>O mână de-ajutor</title><content type="html">de Anca Elena Petrache&lt;br /&gt;
(12.01.2010)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Copil fiind gândeam la viata mea&lt;br /&gt;
Si îmi doream când voi fi mare&lt;br /&gt;
Să urc si să devin o mică stea&lt;br /&gt;
Si pentru asta-mi căutam cărare.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anii lumină trec si înca mică sunt&lt;br /&gt;
Cărarea o găsesc si-o pierd în căutare.&lt;br /&gt;
Cu lacrimi si lumină în care mă afund&lt;br /&gt;
Pierd si găsesc mereu dreapta cărare.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lumina  mea  se  vede  azi…&lt;br /&gt;
Când  calea-i  a  apus  demult&lt;br /&gt;
Nu  stii  pe  ce  cărare  cazi…&lt;br /&gt;
Stergi praful si zâmbesti mai mult.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Si când va fi mai greu, asa să fie!&lt;br /&gt;
Lumina-mi va răsfrange bucurie&lt;br /&gt;
Si-am să-ti întind o mană de-ajutor&lt;br /&gt;
Când mă vei căuta, sau poate un picior.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Când prin căderi si ridicări ne înăltăm &lt;br /&gt;
Muntii interiori clădind, intelepciune&lt;br /&gt;
Dobândim în clipa-n care ne-ascultăm&lt;br /&gt;
De-aceea viata noastră-i o minune:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pentru că putem oricând să zâmbim.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-6931565319647602893?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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(11.01.2010)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perdue, dans les braces d’un autre monde&lt;br /&gt;
Je  rêve encore  à  celle  que’on  a  perdu.&lt;br /&gt;
Et  même  avec la  lumiere qui nous inonde,&lt;br /&gt;
Demie de notre temps nous avons rien foutu.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Couche toi, oeil de mon amour dans l’âme&lt;br /&gt;
D’un dragon qui reste amoreux d’une dame.&lt;br /&gt;
Puis, raconte ta triste histoire dans un crâne&lt;br /&gt;
Qui voit et sent, mais reste dedans la rame.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
La  douce  bouche de la pomme  rouge&lt;br /&gt;
M’emmbrace fort, m’en rendre euphore.&lt;br /&gt;
On  peut  trouver  la  lumière  ensemble&lt;br /&gt;
Juste facillement chercher-le dans le sable…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-323777938653067964?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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(07.01.2010)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Se scurge-n vinele de lut&lt;br /&gt;
Un vin atât de dulce&lt;br /&gt;
Şi mii de stele îl ascut&lt;br /&gt;
Suflu de om să-mi culce.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Iar palme modelează-n vid&lt;br /&gt;
Un vis demult visat.&lt;br /&gt;
Sorb cana de pelin avid&lt;br /&gt;
Pe-un pat demult culcat.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Şopteşte-i pielii să se-ntindă&lt;br /&gt;
De la planeta ta la asta.&lt;br /&gt;
Pe mas-o cină aburindă&lt;br /&gt;
În farfurie numai coasta.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cum să ard foc în reluare?&lt;br /&gt;
Când am chibriturile-aici.&lt;br /&gt;
Cum să astâmpăr astă stare?&lt;br /&gt;
Când flacăra arde pe veci.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cum să fac florile din glastră&lt;br /&gt;
Să crească limitat pe zi?&lt;br /&gt;
Cum să-ţi ascund că la fereastră&lt;br /&gt;
Un astru-ncepe a zâmbi?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cere-mi totul şi-ţi voi da.&lt;br /&gt;
Roagă-mă să-mi retrag privirea,&lt;br /&gt;
Să-mi iau pâinea din mâna ta,&lt;br /&gt;
Şi lacrima-mi va stinge lumânarea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Economiştilor din toată lumea…&lt;br /&gt;
Cum se gestionează sentimentele?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-814751781054149638?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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                                                                                                  &lt;br /&gt;
                          ( 15.12.08)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The hardest thing for me to do…&lt;br /&gt;
Is living simple&lt;br /&gt;
For as much I’d like not to&lt;br /&gt;
A choice is multiple.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So… I feel myself growing&lt;br /&gt;
From the inside out,&lt;br /&gt;
I understand the flowing&lt;br /&gt;
But keep fighting it in doubt&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As great is my desire,&lt;br /&gt;
As straight it is the line,&lt;br /&gt;
My feet are touching fire,&lt;br /&gt;
The line deforms my spine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They say its’s worth it…&lt;br /&gt;
Taking the risk&lt;br /&gt;
I try to be brave and take it,&lt;br /&gt;
Listen backwards the disc…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But for the moment I am tired&lt;br /&gt;
I ‘ve had my passion turned to trash&lt;br /&gt;
I’m empty as I am desired&lt;br /&gt;
Past passes loudly in a flash…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Go play!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-7728144075675724844?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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                        de Anca Elena Petrache (24.09.09)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ma resolution finale&lt;br /&gt;
C’est au debut de ma histoire&lt;br /&gt;
Où j’ai finis de vivre derisoire&lt;br /&gt;
Et comencé banale.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Je m’énerve … pas trôp&lt;br /&gt;
Mais la plupart c’est par ma faute.&lt;br /&gt;
Comme ça soufrir par mon defaut&lt;br /&gt;
Me rend mon propre trôp.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
C’est bien bisare&lt;br /&gt;
Aprendre à voler avec une aile à moi&lt;br /&gt;
Et une nouvelle inconnue qui est à toi&lt;br /&gt;
C’est bien bisare ça!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-1091502459649649284?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&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:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; 	mso-header-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Cât te iubesc, viaţă!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                                                                      &lt;/span&gt;de Anca Elena Petrache ( 25.09.09)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Ce-mi place să te cânt pe tine toată&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Si să te sorb, viaţă, dintr-o dată,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Căci te ador cu nebunia-mi toatã&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Si ştiu c-am sã te pierd numai o dată.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Cu haina ta de suflete si vise colorate,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Un carusel de sentimente mari si&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;late,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Tu mi le dai să le trăiesc pe toate,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Să te descopăr cât de-adânc se poate.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Si te iubesc atât dulce viaţ-a mea&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;De câte ori mă faci să cad de pe o stea&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Si mă ridici din nou cu aripa mai grea&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Tesându-mi fir cu fir povestea.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Ce mult îmi plac pietrele colorate&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Si zâmbetele luminoase toate&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Ce vin după dureri decolorate&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Să-mi coasă rochii decoltate …&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;… Să poatã exploda lumina de iubire&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;S-o răspândesc aievea în nestire&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Si să le pun cununi de aur si safire&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;În locul locului de răstignire.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-7627868256337495072?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/posDIx3PNmLK1eqoFOP3cV6-PN4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/posDIx3PNmLK1eqoFOP3cV6-PN4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/nhHWzqgc8c8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/7627868256337495072/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/7627868256337495072?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/7627868256337495072?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/nhHWzqgc8c8/blog-post.html" title="Cât te iubesc, viaţă!" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EFRns4eip7ImA9WxBTGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-6129543872141459917</id><published>2009-12-16T18:27:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T18:40:17.532+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-16T18:40:17.532+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="copaci" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="toamna" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="culori" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poezie" /><title>Peisaj de toamna</title><content type="html">Peisaj de toamnã&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                   de Elena Anca Petrache ( 16.11.08)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe-un cer de plin albastru,&lt;br /&gt;şi soarele ascuns,&lt;br /&gt;Îmi creşte copacul măiastru,&lt;br /&gt;Cu roşiile-i frunze-n sus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe fata mea se oglindeste lacul,&lt;br /&gt;În cer îşi are rădăcina copacul,&lt;br /&gt;şi-l cresc până la mare,&lt;br /&gt;Ca sã-l hrănească cu sare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe-un nor îmi pluteşte dorinţa,&lt;br /&gt;Din inimă-mi creşte pasiunea,&lt;br /&gt;După mine-alearga raţiunea,&lt;br /&gt;şi împreună-mi deschid portiţa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zâmbesc. Nu pot să intru azi.&lt;br /&gt;Încă nu e seară&lt;br /&gt;şi uite mulţimea de brazi,&lt;br /&gt;Ce mă aşteaptă afară!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mai rămîn doar puţin,&lt;br /&gt;Sã le întind si lor visul,&lt;br /&gt;Apoi împreună venim,&lt;br /&gt;Să-mi împlinim scrisul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-6129543872141459917?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bilIYNsBckypI4ynE18eZum77M8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bilIYNsBckypI4ynE18eZum77M8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/FVNJhX6vLd8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/6129543872141459917/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/peisaj-de-toamna.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/6129543872141459917?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/6129543872141459917?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/FVNJhX6vLd8/peisaj-de-toamna.html" title="Peisaj de toamna" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/peisaj-de-toamna.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcDRXc_eip7ImA9WxBQE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-1481282771667362967</id><published>2009-12-16T07:06:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T10:07:54.942+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-13T10:07:54.942+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poetry" /><title>Symbolic lost</title><content type="html">&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&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 70.85pt 70.85pt 70.85pt; 	mso-header-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;Symbolic lost&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;by Anca Elena PETRACHE&lt;span style=""&gt;                               &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;( 22.12.08) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;I’m just in time to say the small words&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;For as I closed the book of lost&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;I found me hanging empty on two roads&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;And in my pocket a sun-ray that was frost.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;I started running to the little light, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;But I was running backwards.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;My days and nights started a fight&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                          &lt;/span&gt;My inside screamed to save me outwards.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;I stopped and listened for awhile…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Your silence brought before the curtain.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;And as I wanted to gaze in the pile,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;You fell asleep, like in a coffin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;The sparkle in your eye gave you away.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I felt the light, the darkness of that day…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;And suddenly I knew that I was not to stay.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;I woke-up watching the blue sky in the hay.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Something has left from where it was,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Someone has been replaced with light,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Something came in the place of the old laws,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;Someone replaced another for this new fight.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;When does one start to write?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-1481282771667362967?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MZCuZSl4MNrP2qFJMPNEHM4uudc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MZCuZSl4MNrP2qFJMPNEHM4uudc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/rcF4LEivJaU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/1481282771667362967/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/symbolic-lost.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/1481282771667362967?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/1481282771667362967?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/rcF4LEivJaU/symbolic-lost.html" title="Symbolic lost" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/symbolic-lost.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0AFRHo9eyp7ImA9WxBTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-1210194866974331480</id><published>2009-12-16T06:51:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T07:01:55.463+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-16T07:01:55.463+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poezie" /><title>Fabrica secolului meu</title><content type="html">Înotul în ceaţă&lt;br /&gt;E ca mersul pe aţă&lt;br /&gt;Sau ca zborul cu aripi de ceară&lt;br /&gt;Sub soarele torid de vară.&lt;br /&gt;De ce inventaţi maşinării,&lt;br /&gt;Ce nu le puteţi opri?&lt;br /&gt;Construiţi drumuri mii&lt;br /&gt;Spre lumi fumurii…&lt;br /&gt;Fugiţi să vă prindeţi trecutul&lt;br /&gt;Fără să vedeţi prezentul,&lt;br /&gt;Goliţi zâmbete-n deşert&lt;br /&gt;Ca să zburaţi spre incert…&lt;br /&gt;Dacă nu ştii unde vrei s-ajungi&lt;br /&gt;Nu contează pe ce drum o apuci!&lt;br /&gt;Vã miciţi zilnic visele&lt;br /&gt;Ca să măriti între voi prăpăstiile&lt;br /&gt;Ooo…bieţi roboţi!&lt;br /&gt;Voi credeţi că trăiţi?&lt;br /&gt;Mereu mai goi si mereu toţi…&lt;br /&gt;De ce n-ainte de-a muri muriti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                       cu tristeţe- de Anca Elena Petrache&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                    ( 21.11.2008)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-1210194866974331480?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tpLpsqmJta54Jt9qqKGuffKWvLs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tpLpsqmJta54Jt9qqKGuffKWvLs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/2TgbEMdZ2iM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/1210194866974331480/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/fabrica-secolului-meu.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/1210194866974331480?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/1210194866974331480?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/2TgbEMdZ2iM/fabrica-secolului-meu.html" title="Fabrica secolului meu" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/fabrica-secolului-meu.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQDRXs7cSp7ImA9WxBTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-8178306496817218997</id><published>2009-12-16T00:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T00:32:54.509+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-16T00:32:54.509+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life's goovie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="complaining" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blah blah" /><title>Freakin' out here!</title><content type="html">Yes... I do freak out often, but ... who doesen't? Anyway, I don't need excuses, I'm not one page you read, I'm all the pages of my life.The point is I laugh a lot more than I complain. I just like the way I sweared here :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23.nov.2009        I’m kinda’  freakin’ out here, on this lousy couch for two-three weeks now. Caught between spinning feelings until I drop down laughing or cryin’, feeling actually nothing right now… just this fuckin’ body that rarely satisfies my idea of it and then… whatever there is out there, in the real world, passing me by, laugh or cry, sunny or cloudy, friends and unfriends just avoiding me plenty. Actually, everything is how I want it to be or better said the way I made it. Lost contacts this last year more than I ever would have thought I would… but it’s not enough. “It” wants more from me, tearing and pulling away all that I have and I’m so lost on this fuckin’ road that I’m stuck, really frozen here at this hundred thousand roads intersection that I’ve built. Keep loosing and recovering my soul and goals when I know somewhere deep inside, more  reprimed than it ever was, that without someone to join me in this life travel I’m nothing. All this bitch ass life is fuckin’ unsure and I keep knocking in empty doors, all the same things repeating themselves on and on under different shapes confuse and empty me up to not knowing why I should cry or laugh. I so  need a good advice from any wise man but from someone who can totally understand and not judge me… I just need a life lesson or something, and also I need to take things one step at a time… I just feel that if I don’t ensure the rest of my life right now I will be lost, and still so conscious that I’m absolutely powerless over the things that are to happen.  The love of life is one love that kills and we’re all in love  with this bitch. I want to make the best of what I was given and no one said it’s gonna’ be easy but no one said it’s gonna be this hard either, although I was expecting it to be … but not like this… I keep contradicting myself 4 times in a sentence and I’m so fuckin’ confused at this point that I don’t even know why I am swearing. It’s absolutely  hard to be a grownup. And also I feel I’m lying to everyone with the thighs I do and what I’ve achieved because they admire me for something that just sounds better than it really is … and still I’m spinning in this circle where I sew my own web to be caught in it wherever I turn. I don’t want to end-up bad. I need a friend to tell all this, I need someone with greater belief than mine who can tell me it’s going to be all right, someone who cares for others than himself and the thing that gets more tears out of me is that I know this someone, whom I think I love with all my heart and who would be the  best thing that happened to me except it didn’t… because  he’s JUST a friend, likes to keep it like that and makes it clearer with any occasion … so also this often encountered unshared love fills my glass and my head is turning to each closed door and I have no idea how to go out, if I want to  or … what am I going to reach if I open any of these hundred doors. Time passes and takes away my friends forming couples and babies and I am … still alive. I get so frightened of living sometimes… But I know I’ll make it, I am a fighter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-8178306496817218997?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9Y8F76FY53rxSRPgua3M7bGF7vk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9Y8F76FY53rxSRPgua3M7bGF7vk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/qMWoaHsQWZI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/8178306496817218997/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/freakin-out-here.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/8178306496817218997?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/8178306496817218997?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/qMWoaHsQWZI/freakin-out-here.html" title="Freakin' out here!" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/freakin-out-here.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EDRnwycCp7ImA9WxBTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-5485193230185117656</id><published>2009-12-16T00:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T00:21:17.298+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-16T00:21:17.298+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mare" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rasrit" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="implinite" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vama veche" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="suflet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pizza" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="muzica" /><title>o veche mare plina</title><content type="html">Sunt o foarte norocoasa casa de suflet pentru ca il simt. Imi place viata mea si spun de o mie de ori asta pentru ca soarele rasare din mare intr-un univers mare luminand Pamantul care seamana cu o pizza, iar apa se revarsa-n cascade printre planete formand lacrimi de stele cazatoare. Imi ador viata pentru ca sunt un sens giratoriu al unei intersectii de numeroase drumuri bune. Le parcurg pe toate in asta viata pana la limita…sau nu si revin mereu in centru ca poate asta o fi rolul meu, sa indrum oamenii ce trec prin intersectia mea. Casa mea de suflet se umple de lumina si simtire din miile de persoane cu margaritare in inimi intalnite, din ganduri deosebite despre trecut, prezent si viitor, unde prezentu-i cel mai insemnat si totodata ignorat. E atat de natural sa vorbesti cu cel de langa tine despre sentimentele de ACUM, desi o  faci atat de rar. “Cum te simti acum?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Salut delfinii cu inima iar ei, in salturi, imi raspund veseli. Cantam o multime de voci si instrumente si imbatam focul cu rasetele noastre. Iubim intens clipe si le transformam in eternitati. Ador briza realitatilor boeme ale cuvintelor rostite pe nisip, la rasarit si folosesc mii de sentimente ca sa-mi imbrac inima in haine stralucitoare ca apoi sa-mi scanteieze privirea si sa nu ma opresc din zambit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Iubesc clipa de acum pentru ca simt intens si pentru ca am cunoscut Oameni. Pasiunea pura ma imbata si admiratia pentru frumos si bun si “ei” creste pana la Zenit. Si eu voi fii asa, Promit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   A, da! Si cat de mult inseamna o imbratisare…! Adorm in melodia primei raze de soare si ma scufund intr-o mare de visare…&lt;br /&gt;16.08.08&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-5485193230185117656?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QbR7OZTmsjwIKx2NMRn2GZVd1tQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QbR7OZTmsjwIKx2NMRn2GZVd1tQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~4/6mUxerkSksY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/feeds/5485193230185117656/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/o-veche-mare-plina.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/5485193230185117656?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4298920644872090276/posts/default/5485193230185117656?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MultilingualThoughtGlimpses/~3/6mUxerkSksY/o-veche-mare-plina.html" title="o veche mare plina" /><author><name>FunkyLifeColors</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11250132138010864727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="13" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Flo3f1RA_BI/Sykk8gRQPAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/HzHVY_qe2b8/S220/n1349486014_177524_2508.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://funkylifecolors.blogspot.com/2009/12/o-veche-mare-plina.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYFRX86eSp7ImA9WxBTGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4298920644872090276.post-1128408791719592033</id><published>2009-12-16T00:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T18:48:34.111+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-16T18:48:34.111+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="positivisme" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="polution" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="verite" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="questions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="attitude" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="contradiction" /><title>French thoughts</title><content type="html">Je me suis reveillé dans une mer de phrases que mes pensées ont commencé à conturer dans mon tête. Ce que m'inquiète à ce moment  sont les mêmes milles questions existentielles q’on se pose  toujours. Pourquoi? Quoi? Comment les faire mieux? Que-est ce que je peux faire pour changer tout ça dans quelque chose un peu plus? Tu vois… le monde aujourd’hui est super-concentré à trouver plein des raisons pour ne pas croir, pour combattre tout ce qu’ils ont appris systématiquement, théoriquement durant les derniers 17.500 ans. Et après quoi? Vous savez si bien ce que vous ne croyez pas, vos savez toutes les lois et les règles contre lesquelles vous voulez lutter, vous vous retrouvez parmi des negations une plus scientifique et logique que l’autre… Et après quoi?&lt;br /&gt; On est une planète de negation et lutte contre toutes les choses autour de nous. N’est il pas si logique de les détruire un jour ?  On ne veut pas faire des guerres mais chaque pays a ses soldats, ses armes et ses technologies de “défence”. On ne veut pas de polution mais on fume, on conduit, on consume plus que le necessaire chaque instant… Et bien… Nous, on est qui? On croit quoi?&lt;br /&gt;  “Carpe diem” - dit  toute la planète… et on vive et on consume le plus possible parce-que on ne croit pas dans “la vie d’après” , ou dans des forces divines qui vont nous punir pour notres mauvaises decisions. Et même avec cette maniere de vivre chaque instant tu te réveilles le matin avec la même geule triste et ton tête plein de questions. Pourquoi tout va mal? Pourquoi les choses ne sortent pas comme tu veux?&lt;br /&gt;   Moi je dis… Ce n’est pas important, du tout, ce que tu  ne crois pas. Etablis-toi, pour toi même, qui tu est, quelles sont  tes rêves et objectifs et lutte pour les attaindre chaq’un! Tu  vas  faire des erreurs, tu vas tomber dans tont tête et c’est lá où il faut être le plus fort, car il faut se lever et recommencer. C’est comme ça q’on construit notre pouvoir intérieur, c’est comme ça q’on devient fort. La Tristesse est notre ennemi et on va la vaincre en le faisant rire.  Trouve-toi!&lt;br /&gt;                   Et si tu crois dans l’amour, la beauté et le bien quoi du mal?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4298920644872090276-1128408791719592033?l=funkylifecolors.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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