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<?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;Ck4GQHk6eyp7ImA9WhRRFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876</id><updated>2011-11-30T05:48:41.713-08:00</updated><title>Paperback Writer</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</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/blogspot/RvVHa" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/rvvha" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4GQHk5eip7ImA9WhRRFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-5901640598610291289</id><published>2011-11-30T05:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T05:48:41.722-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-30T05:48:41.722-08:00</app:edited><title>Talvez o último abraço</title><content type="html">Tentei dizer as palavras certas, mas muito do que eu disse foi correspondido com aspereza. Tentei ser sincera em vez de fingir que estava tudo bem guardando a dor só pra mim, por confiança, porque achei que não fosse ser tratada sem consideração por tudo que significamos um para o outro, mas eu estava enganada.&lt;div&gt;Sabe, Weirdo, você me consertou, quando eu acreditei que não poderia amar de novo. Agora você me pede para largar isso e ficar sem compromisso, se era isso que eu era antes de me apaixonar por você. Não posso, seria admitir que todo o discurso de dar uma chance a nós dois juntos significaria nada e voltaríamos ao início, sem importância.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quando você disse que seria o último abraço, não quis que você fosse embora, nos aproximamos mais. Mas sei que minha despedida não significa o mesmo e somente eu sentirei ser falta, porque nem todo mundo consegue agir pensando em toda a história, e não só no último momento, que foi ruim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoje você me decepcionou, porque quando as pessoas são especiais de verdade, elas demoram ou não são substituídas, e se ja há alguém em meu lugar é porque eu sempre estive certa, e sempre foi cedo demais pros sentimentos que você disse ter, mas que não significam nada nos momentos difíceis. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esquecer não é fácil quando a gente ama. Talvez nem seja necessário, de fato, esquecer. Ninguém estará no mesmo lugar da pessoa que eu imaginarei apaixonada por mim. Afinal, prefiro as lembranças boas do que o que você demonstrou ser real.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-5901640598610291289?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1KqcVDD1CDfJk22X6QzrU05y8a4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1KqcVDD1CDfJk22X6QzrU05y8a4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/eV3U4BWV-4A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/5901640598610291289/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=5901640598610291289" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/5901640598610291289?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/5901640598610291289?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/eV3U4BWV-4A/talvez-o-ultimo-abraco.html" title="Talvez o último abraço" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/11/talvez-o-ultimo-abraco.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QARXw4cCp7ImA9WhdaEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-6704394946228676152</id><published>2011-10-20T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T15:22:24.238-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-20T15:22:24.238-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Eu costumava ser tudo, costumava ser única e especial. Em que ponto me tornei esse lixo que você deseja pisar em cima? Ouvi suas palavras e não acreditada. Em que parte me tornei uma pessoa que não merece devida importância e respeito?&lt;br /&gt;Quando você teve dúvidas, me postei ao seu lado. Quando não achava amor, dividi o meu com você. Quando toda luta parecia sem sentido, te mostrei o motivo de estarmos aqui hoje.&lt;br /&gt;Você me disse que estava destruído e me ofereci para te refazer. Você disse que sentia ódio e queria estar sozinho. E te disse que querer ficar sozinho era o que te trazia o sentimento ruim.&lt;br /&gt;Te conquistei, fiz seus olhos brilharem uma vez mais. E você... você pisou em mim e me chamou de inferno, quando tentei ajudar. Disse para eu te deixar em paz quando quis segurar sua mão.&lt;br /&gt;Me tratou como se eu não significasse nada e nunca tivesse.&lt;br /&gt;Amor é uma coisa que nos deixa tão vulneráveis...&lt;br /&gt;E é engraçado como amor sem controle se torna ódio tão facilmente.&lt;br /&gt;Até minha amizade foi recusada como falsidade.&lt;br /&gt;Eu não fiz nada de errado, nada de mal, não trouxe problema algum e fui tratada como a pior pessoa do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Te disse que por você eu morreria tentando e que isso valeria a pena. Você... riu de mim. Disse que nada importada.&lt;br /&gt;Disse que queria ser feliz sem mim, como se eu não fosse capaz de trazer nenhuma felicidade. Meu amor, se não pude te deixar feliz. Me desculpe. Se não pude fazer você sentir o mesmo que eu sinto, me perdoa. Sinto muito por mim, pelo trabalho que tive tentando, pela dor que hoje eu sinto, por amar uma pessoa que não me quis e me maltratou. Enquanto eu estava lá só para ajudar, só para afastar as confusões.&lt;br /&gt;É decepcionante se dedicar a alguma coisa quando ela não dá certo... Eu nunca gostei de perder meu tempo. Mas sabe, valeu a pena ter sentido tudo que senti. Porque hoje sofro, mas n/ao estou quebrada. Sou eu, a mesma boba apaixonada de sempre, sofrendo por mais uma pessoa que não sabe o que sente por mim...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-6704394946228676152?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/v3Lg-B1kW3R2g0HwXY-IohJka4o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/v3Lg-B1kW3R2g0HwXY-IohJka4o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/wgO8l27HzQU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/6704394946228676152/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=6704394946228676152" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/6704394946228676152?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/6704394946228676152?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/wgO8l27HzQU/eu-costumava-ser-tudo-costumava-ser.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/10/eu-costumava-ser-tudo-costumava-ser.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMDQnk-fCp7ImA9WhdbEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-6126683439183758942</id><published>2011-10-08T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T16:27:53.754-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-08T16:27:53.754-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Hoje me lembro do quanto era bom sentar no galho mais alto da árvore e sentir ele balançar com o vento frio. Costumava passar horas sentindo, quando era criança. E me lembro, consequentemente, do quanto era bom poder me sentir livre de tarefas a cumprir e de pessoas para bajular. E me lembro dos meus pais saberem o quanto eu me importava com eles pelas minhas ações e não duvidavam disso quando eu precisava de um tempo sozinha. &lt;div&gt;Achei que seria sempre assim e que as pessoas não duvidariam dos seus sentimentos ou intenções por uma vez que você deixa de dizer. Era tudo tão simples... Nunca achei que tivesse que lutar para convencer alguém do quanto puros são meus sentimentos, enquanto mantivesse meus olhos brilhando. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sempre me apeguei a tudo que é meu: minhas memórias, minhas raízes, meus conceitos. Me formei e me permiti mudar com argumentos bons o suficiente, para que não fosse arrogante. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E, agora, com a vida turbulenta como se tornou, trazia minha paz de volta tocando na terra enquanto cultivo minhas rosas e margaridas. Preciso me lembrar de que nunca perderei o que é essencial para mim. De tempos em tempos, as faltas de flores vão fazer minha atenção se esvair, mas sei que uma hora ela vai voltar para o lugar certo, como sempre volta. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A verdade é que cansei de correr atrás, para exigir o que é meu. Da mesma forma que sempre discordei quando disseram que eu devia passar a dar foras em pessoas grossas comigo, e esse tipo de coisa. Oras, eu continuo no mesmo lugar e, se sou gentil, deixaria a grosseria vencer? Se fui magoada devo exigir desculpas, uma ver que a pessoa culpada não faz questão de entregá-las? Estou bem comigo mesma, certa de meus conceitos e sentimentos, certa de com quem me importo e que não preciso convencer a ninguém que não queira acreditar de graça.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-6126683439183758942?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UejIOXgB6qwuj_jEowgiBqVag-I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UejIOXgB6qwuj_jEowgiBqVag-I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/Xi_6OIykgOk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/6126683439183758942/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=6126683439183758942" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/6126683439183758942?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/6126683439183758942?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/Xi_6OIykgOk/hoje-me-lembro-do-quanto-era-bom-sentar.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/10/hoje-me-lembro-do-quanto-era-bom-sentar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIBSXw4eCp7ImA9WhdUFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-8760380848304329120</id><published>2011-10-03T15:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T16:12:38.230-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-03T16:12:38.230-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Em que ponto perdemos tudo que sempre fomos e deixamos nossos sentimentos e desejos serem desgastados com cobranças sem fim? Queremos sempre o início novamente, porque é nele que os sentimentos são puros. O presente nos oferece saudades do passado mas será também saudade quando se tornar futuro. Então vivemos disso? Nos lamentamos por tudo aquilo que não vivemos para sempre achar tudo aquilo que não temos melhor?&lt;br /&gt;     O que eu sei é que agora eu estou viva. E que tenho escolhas. Coisas que no passado já se foram e eu não posso mudar. Você está preso à sua história e às vezes você queria ter feito diferente. Mas, oras, no presente você pode. Você pode ser diferente, você opta pelos caminhos que te fazem feliz para que no futuro você sinta falta deles. Do que é que sentimos tanta saudade afinal? Ou, se sentimos, por que é que achamos isso bom? Se o tempo já foi perdido resta-nos alegria ou arrependimento e só. Você não vai sentir o que já sentiu, tudo acontece no agora.&lt;br /&gt;    Por tanto tempo me soterrei de emoções passadas, como canso de fazer vez após vez. E magoo a mim mesma, sozinha como sempre fiz, além de quem está no caminho. Lembrei de uma poesia escrita por um amigo onde vejo que tenho tudo que preciso e, apesar disso, sou sempre insatisfeita e exigente com tudo e com todos.&lt;br /&gt;     Desculpa, não sei se sei ser diferente disso. No fundo, acho que só eu me entendo. Não sei quantos vão resistir ao meu lado. Antes, fosse eu pobre de tudo que poderia me fazer feliz, do que ter uma vida perfeita que me perde no tempo. Acho que é isso, vivo como se não pertencesse ao meu tempo. Deito a cabeça no travesseiro e enchergo lembras e não meu teto. Olho pela janela e enxergo poesia e não um cenário. Conheço personagens e não pessoas. Só que histórias acabam todo o tempo. Mas a vida somente uma vez. Posto isso, devo me concentrar em viver linearmente. E saber que isso trará um só climax na minha vida e não escolherei quando ele virá e nem saberei quando se for. Alguém vai poder dizer depois de tudo. Alguém que não vou ouvir.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-8760380848304329120?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HoSIW511oMY8o7mxjoD1A0q243k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HoSIW511oMY8o7mxjoD1A0q243k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/FAsw3Wrvy6E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/8760380848304329120/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=8760380848304329120" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/8760380848304329120?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/8760380848304329120?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/FAsw3Wrvy6E/em-que-ponto-perdemos-tudo-que-sempre.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/10/em-que-ponto-perdemos-tudo-que-sempre.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4DRn8-cSp7ImA9WhdUEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-356269854159655552</id><published>2011-09-28T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T09:56:17.159-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-28T09:56:17.159-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Olhos nos olhos, fogo entrelaçando, enquanto nos entregamos e nos perdemos. Descubro seu corpo, deslizo sua pele até que eu possa descrever a cena com a mesma paixão. Talvez até pareça que minhas palavras tenham voltado aos lábios. Como se sangue pulsante trouxesse vida à minha inspiração. Como se seu cheiro trouxesse alimento para minha imaginação. Sinto meu calor e mais, sinto o seu calor em mim. Me cobrindo com asas de anjo e apagando o mundo em volta enquanto tudo dá rodopios Minha lógica se espalha em lençóis antes de escorrer e se abrigar num canto escuro: tudo em nome da diversão. Pois a verdade é que o sorriso ardente coexiste com todo arranhão e mordida, provocando e clamando por mais.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-356269854159655552?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SBdpR7HLcAZRjmuwys7IPyuAklE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SBdpR7HLcAZRjmuwys7IPyuAklE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/6EBTlEWE-ag" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/356269854159655552/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=356269854159655552" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/356269854159655552?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/356269854159655552?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/6EBTlEWE-ag/olhos-nos-olhos-fogo-entrelacando.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/09/olhos-nos-olhos-fogo-entrelacando.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAMQH0_cSp7ImA9WhdQEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-6825557152002774340</id><published>2011-08-10T13:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T13:39:41.349-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-10T13:39:41.349-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Me desespero para encontrar
&lt;br /&gt;A forma mais sincera de contar
&lt;br /&gt;Como é puro aquilo que sinto
&lt;br /&gt;Como amo quem está ao meu lado
&lt;br /&gt;Mas não encontro
&lt;br /&gt;Ainda não sei expressar totalmente
&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que sente o coração que é teu
&lt;br /&gt;E não tenho escrito em muito tempo
&lt;br /&gt;Agora que venho as palavras me faltam
&lt;br /&gt;Porque o sentimento,
&lt;br /&gt;Este sempre esteve no mesmo lugar.
&lt;br /&gt;Mas as mãos tremem
&lt;br /&gt;Os olhos fraquejam
&lt;br /&gt;É difícil falar de amor sem chorar
&lt;br /&gt;É difícil te olhar nos olhos
&lt;br /&gt;Sem me deixar apaixonar
&lt;br /&gt;Conquista é um processo natural
&lt;br /&gt;E no teu jeito tem um charme
&lt;br /&gt;Você me fascina 
&lt;br /&gt;Seu sorriso me encanta
&lt;br /&gt;E naqueles momentos de tristeza
&lt;br /&gt;É o que me trás de volta à alegria
&lt;br /&gt;Chego ao ponto em que penso
&lt;br /&gt;Que só preciso de amor pra ser feliz
&lt;br /&gt;Ainda que boba, sigo em paz
&lt;br /&gt;Guardando meu coração puro
&lt;br /&gt;E seguro, nas mãos de quem amo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-6825557152002774340?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KAv5B_BbdStUp6Wtv1XIQTMMvvg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KAv5B_BbdStUp6Wtv1XIQTMMvvg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KAv5B_BbdStUp6Wtv1XIQTMMvvg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KAv5B_BbdStUp6Wtv1XIQTMMvvg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/SJZduD79n58" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/6825557152002774340/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=6825557152002774340" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/6825557152002774340?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/6825557152002774340?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/SJZduD79n58/me-desespero-para-encontrar-forma-mais.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/08/me-desespero-para-encontrar-forma-mais.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cAQ3k7cCp7ImA9WhdRGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-2017857376680902424</id><published>2011-08-09T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T07:44:02.708-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-09T07:44:02.708-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Existe magia em mim. Magia que se manifesta como um calor aquecendo meu coração e cintilando ao mundo em forma de palavras. Não posso dizer ao certo quando expressar-se começou a ser importante para mim, mas sei que não fazê-lo me deixa pesada, como se todas as emoções se acumulassem sem poder expandir.
&lt;br /&gt;Sempre quis deixar registros, traços de que um dia fui real. De que tudo que eu vivi aconteceu e nada foi imaginado.
&lt;br /&gt;E de tudo que acontece, preciso dizer que estou amando. Me sinto confortável para dizer a quem quiser ouvir e fazer do que sinto uma memória eterna.
&lt;br /&gt;Um dia não estarei mais aqui, porque esse é o certo. Mas que os sentimentos que eu tenho jamais sejam esquecidos. Eles vão estar guardados aqui para você, meu amor, para que você nunca esqueça que existe alguém cujo coração bate ao pensar em você. E que lágrimas escorrem dos olhos ao passo que noto o quanto é puro o sentimento que possuo.
&lt;br /&gt;Não sei bem ao certo como as pessoas podem viver de diversão, sem os sentimentos que fico feliz em ter. Às vezes, fico pensando nelas... sinto pena. E acho que só sou capaz de me divertir e de ser tão feliz porque meu coração é completo. E ele é completo pelo amor que foi conquistado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-2017857376680902424?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/puooRnpW2gCzYIQ5jGnyswfcoFM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/puooRnpW2gCzYIQ5jGnyswfcoFM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/puooRnpW2gCzYIQ5jGnyswfcoFM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/puooRnpW2gCzYIQ5jGnyswfcoFM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/JbzOUKzyBHI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/2017857376680902424/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=2017857376680902424" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2017857376680902424?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2017857376680902424?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/JbzOUKzyBHI/existe-magia-em-mim.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/08/existe-magia-em-mim.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAAQHs-fyp7ImA9WhdTGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-1940101938493061574</id><published>2011-07-17T17:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T17:25:41.557-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-17T17:25:41.557-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Se justiça nunca me falta, porque não consigo ser realista? Consciencia de que tenho uma ótima vida, cercada de boas companhias e que além de não ser de tudo ruim, tenho qualidades, não me falta. Mas persevera a falta de confiança. Como posso me apegar tanto a alguém, se me apegar cria a chance de perder tudo que construi. Me abrir signigica não ser boa o suficiente, ser trocada ou substituída. Não depende de confiança, sentimentos que podem mudar mesmo quando não queremos. De repente penso e me sinto tão pouco pra sustentar o amor que existe por mim. Como eu poderia não confiar nos outros? Se o erro é que não posso confiar em mim. Pessoas me aceitam melhor do que eu mesma faço. Amigos acreditam em mim mais do que eu.&lt;br /&gt;Sou instável e imperfeita, assim como todo mundo. Sou real. E não me conformo com isso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OBRIGADA PELA PACIENCIA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-1940101938493061574?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F1Q5wO-IA-g5y9YdjqE9juVV36k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F1Q5wO-IA-g5y9YdjqE9juVV36k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F1Q5wO-IA-g5y9YdjqE9juVV36k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F1Q5wO-IA-g5y9YdjqE9juVV36k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/6o2BrmuSq_k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/1940101938493061574/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=1940101938493061574" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/1940101938493061574?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/1940101938493061574?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/6o2BrmuSq_k/se-justica-nunca-me-falta-porque-nao.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/07/se-justica-nunca-me-falta-porque-nao.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08HRX46fSp7ImA9WhdTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-4938741151482785454</id><published>2011-07-17T13:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T13:50:34.015-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-17T13:50:34.015-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Vejo as suas fotos pra matar saudades&lt;br /&gt;Toda vez que não te encontro do meu lado&lt;br /&gt;Mas sei que tristeza não é o que eu sinto&lt;br /&gt;Pois toda vez que te vejo, aproveito a chance&lt;br /&gt;Quando estou só é que penso no quanto te quero&lt;br /&gt;E digo que quero um tempo pra mim&lt;br /&gt;Quando tempo, pra mim, é pra te ter na imaginação&lt;br /&gt;Não existo separadamente mais&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-4938741151482785454?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bhh1GLCA36epCvaEk3pI_p0mVS0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bhh1GLCA36epCvaEk3pI_p0mVS0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bhh1GLCA36epCvaEk3pI_p0mVS0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bhh1GLCA36epCvaEk3pI_p0mVS0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/POdWqZdJdn8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/4938741151482785454/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=4938741151482785454" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/4938741151482785454?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/4938741151482785454?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/POdWqZdJdn8/vejo-as-suas-fotos-pra-matar-saudades.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/07/vejo-as-suas-fotos-pra-matar-saudades.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUENSXg5fCp7ImA9WhZUEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-2408317992360356548</id><published>2011-06-02T05:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T05:28:18.624-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-02T05:28:18.624-07:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Em dado momento a pressão é forte demais...&lt;br /&gt;É tanta coisa pra fazer enquanto o tempo é tão pouco...&lt;br /&gt;Gostaria de me dedicar mais nos estudos, ou no trabalho, mas não quero me dedicar mais quando o assunto sou eu.&lt;br /&gt;Eu só quero estar feliz mais tempo, com menos coisas atrapalhando até meu sono.&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho problemas em escolher qualquer coisa antes da minha vontade se eu for, ao menos, feliz.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que posso fazer é continuar tentando, mas minha felicidade não depende só de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Me alegro por pouco. Agora, vi fotos que trouxeram mais amor ao meu dia. Mas quanto tempo durará?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-2408317992360356548?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DCEnyWpy7U6Z426xV3WZw4RqeIk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DCEnyWpy7U6Z426xV3WZw4RqeIk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DCEnyWpy7U6Z426xV3WZw4RqeIk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DCEnyWpy7U6Z426xV3WZw4RqeIk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/0Fg3l9UmO6w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/2408317992360356548/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=2408317992360356548" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2408317992360356548?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2408317992360356548?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/0Fg3l9UmO6w/em-dado-momento-pressao-e-forte-demais.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/06/em-dado-momento-pressao-e-forte-demais.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMCRXc-fyp7ImA9WhZXFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-2918808889568298234</id><published>2011-05-05T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T14:21:04.957-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-05T14:21:04.957-07:00</app:edited><title>If I say to you....</title><content type="html">Em algumas vezes, tenho que desabafar. Mas se o faço, não deposito a culpa em quem fica ao meu lado. Desculpe-me. Sei que não é culpa sua. Só não quis sofrer sozinha por um sentimento ruim e involuntário.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-2918808889568298234?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qxElU4wVu5uwZAnDKgIxgIhdqqM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qxElU4wVu5uwZAnDKgIxgIhdqqM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qxElU4wVu5uwZAnDKgIxgIhdqqM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qxElU4wVu5uwZAnDKgIxgIhdqqM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/PD_3X8CJu1s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/2918808889568298234/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=2918808889568298234" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2918808889568298234?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2918808889568298234?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/PD_3X8CJu1s/if-i-say-to-you.html" title="If I say to you...." /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/05/if-i-say-to-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YGQXgzeyp7ImA9WhZRFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-1285350396470762166</id><published>2011-04-10T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T06:38:40.683-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-11T06:38:40.683-07:00</app:edited><title>passar especial sobre o Muse de madrugada é...</title><content type="html">... é apelativo. Tantas músicas que me envolvem. Justo agora que sei que o sono te embala, ainda que isto não seja de tudo triste. No final das contas, sei que vai abrir os olhos e ver estampado no estrado de cima o 'come back, balloon', que é tudo que espero que você se lembre toda vez em estiver longe. Existe alguém aqui esperando por ti, se transformando em saudades e deixando cada detalhe se tornar motivo para lembrar de você.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei muito bem quando se tornou vício, but I just wanted to hold you in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;E agora lembro do nick, do início, de tudo que trilhei pra chegar aqui, onde meu coração bate para te manter aquecido e salvo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-1285350396470762166?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yz5fhYoO0YSc-65CERTSmdSLXaM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yz5fhYoO0YSc-65CERTSmdSLXaM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yz5fhYoO0YSc-65CERTSmdSLXaM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yz5fhYoO0YSc-65CERTSmdSLXaM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/UJF3CZabsro" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/1285350396470762166/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=1285350396470762166" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/1285350396470762166?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/1285350396470762166?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/UJF3CZabsro/passar-especial-sobre-o-muse-de.html" title="passar especial sobre o Muse de madrugada é..." /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/04/passar-especial-sobre-o-muse-de.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIGQX47fSp7ImA9WhZSGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-2867875497694626428</id><published>2011-04-03T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T09:02:00.005-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-03T09:02:00.005-07:00</app:edited><title>My heart is...</title><content type="html">Se eu não quissesse ser conquistada, seria tarde demais&lt;br /&gt;Se meu coração não devesse ser consertado, seria tarde demais&lt;br /&gt;Porque é tarde demais para deixar a tristeza ficar&lt;br /&gt;Tomar conta dos meus sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;E dos cacos desgastados de uma alma cansada&lt;br /&gt;Sei que o caminho foi difícil&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto eu tentava não pensar nisso&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto eu preferi simplesmente deixar de lado&lt;br /&gt;Mas jornadas valem a pena&lt;br /&gt;Sacrifícios são recompensados&lt;br /&gt;Posso não ter agido da forma mais certa&lt;br /&gt;Mas não mudaria nada&lt;br /&gt;Porque seu que o caminho que escolhi&lt;br /&gt;Me levou até você.&lt;br /&gt;Me confortei em seu abraço&lt;br /&gt;Me escondi de tudo&lt;br /&gt;Guardada em seu coração&lt;br /&gt;E você permaneceu&lt;br /&gt;Aguardou até que eu estivesse bem&lt;br /&gt;Esteve do meu lado&lt;br /&gt;Tantas e tantas vezes que mal posso contar&lt;br /&gt;E hoje, a tristeza que se transformou em carinho&lt;br /&gt;o carinho que se transformou em gostar,&lt;br /&gt;se espalhou pelo sangue e se tornou amar.&lt;br /&gt;Todos os meus momentos são completos por estar com você&lt;br /&gt;todas as simples cosisas que sempre desejei&lt;br /&gt;Toda esperança que eu havia perdido&lt;br /&gt;Agora encontro em você&lt;br /&gt;E é por isso, e não apenas,&lt;br /&gt;que meu coração se tornou, e agora é, seu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-2867875497694626428?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XcRXaIwmKugR_Rldr1BeAaQqbzc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XcRXaIwmKugR_Rldr1BeAaQqbzc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XcRXaIwmKugR_Rldr1BeAaQqbzc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XcRXaIwmKugR_Rldr1BeAaQqbzc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/c5_5WC0EmiY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/2867875497694626428/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=2867875497694626428" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2867875497694626428?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/2867875497694626428?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/c5_5WC0EmiY/my-heart-is.html" title="My heart is..." /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-heart-is.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYGRHw8fyp7ImA9Wx9aFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-3142460974449185776</id><published>2011-03-08T16:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T16:55:25.277-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-08T16:55:25.277-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Ah, se pudesse controlar os sentimentos que me controlam e escolher entre eles.&lt;br /&gt;Não que tenha, de tudo, o que reclamar. Afinal, pense bem, a tristeza que tenho sou capaz de afastar. Posso abstrair quase tudo, menos raiva. É um sentimento impulsivo que surge antes que eu possa impor minha palavra. Ainda bem que é pouco duradouro...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-3142460974449185776?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uI6Rc0KUQ8b5o4aLB8S81wiFCT0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uI6Rc0KUQ8b5o4aLB8S81wiFCT0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uI6Rc0KUQ8b5o4aLB8S81wiFCT0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uI6Rc0KUQ8b5o4aLB8S81wiFCT0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/gUnyR0VzPLc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/3142460974449185776/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=3142460974449185776" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/3142460974449185776?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/3142460974449185776?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/gUnyR0VzPLc/ah-se-pudesse-controlar-os-sentimentos.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/03/ah-se-pudesse-controlar-os-sentimentos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8AQn8-eyp7ImA9Wx9bEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-1384887725936683964</id><published>2011-02-20T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T11:40:43.153-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-20T11:40:43.153-08:00</app:edited><title>Miss</title><content type="html">Preferia errar do que perder...&lt;br /&gt;Mas o fato é que, às vezes, não se pode escolher&lt;br /&gt;Vendo agora tudo que passei no caminho&lt;br /&gt;Acho que não seria a mesma se não fosse você&lt;br /&gt;Outras vezes eu queria que você ainda estivesse aqui&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu aceito, sei que teve que partir&lt;br /&gt;E não foi sua escolha também&lt;br /&gt;Mas o conformismo me faz quieta&lt;br /&gt;Como sempre, me esforço para deixar os problemas de lado&lt;br /&gt;Presentes mas guardados.&lt;br /&gt;Lembrar cada história do passado&lt;br /&gt;Acaba por emergir a saudade&lt;br /&gt;Mas não se preocupe,&lt;br /&gt;água evapora,&lt;br /&gt;lágrimas secam,&lt;br /&gt;o tempo passa.&lt;br /&gt;Assim como eu, eu não me preocupo&lt;br /&gt;Me conheço o bastante pra saber que sei seguir&lt;br /&gt;Te conheço o bastante pra entender que você não morreu&lt;br /&gt;Pois vive aqui dentro, salvo em cada lembrança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAJ (L)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-1384887725936683964?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qsfFZ0y06_qboE9It5e4cfbeAa4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qsfFZ0y06_qboE9It5e4cfbeAa4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qsfFZ0y06_qboE9It5e4cfbeAa4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qsfFZ0y06_qboE9It5e4cfbeAa4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/QQJUn0W3khc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/1384887725936683964/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=1384887725936683964" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/1384887725936683964?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/1384887725936683964?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/QQJUn0W3khc/miss.html" title="Miss" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/02/miss.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcERnk6eip7ImA9Wx9bGUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-949012842760406915</id><published>2011-02-13T17:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T07:23:27.712-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-01T07:23:27.712-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Quando você estava triste, te fiz sorrir&lt;br /&gt;E quando você estava com raiva, eu estava perto, apenas perto e sem palavras para respeitar seu tempo e ao mesmo tempo estar, para que não se sentisse sozinho.&lt;br /&gt;Quando você estava aborrecido, fiz questão de te confortá-lo.&lt;br /&gt;E quando você estava estranho, lhe ofereci o ombros, ouvidos, silencio ou ausencia.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que pude fazer para alegrá-lo, fiz. &lt;br /&gt;Controlei-me e estive o dia inteiro controlando minha própria tristeza casual para dar suporte.&lt;br /&gt;Mas ainda assim – como pode? – você está indo dormir chateado comigo.&lt;br /&gt;Se eu pudesse, eu tentaria de novo. Mas, no final das coisas, eu nao saberia mais o que fazer.&lt;br /&gt;Tive que te deixar você partir, mesmo sem querer, só para não ter nada mais como desculpa para te deixar triste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-949012842760406915?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1PJliKIpfRLufCW2sa-EaMjV7S4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1PJliKIpfRLufCW2sa-EaMjV7S4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1PJliKIpfRLufCW2sa-EaMjV7S4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1PJliKIpfRLufCW2sa-EaMjV7S4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/c-U28zjeUN8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/949012842760406915/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=949012842760406915" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/949012842760406915?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/949012842760406915?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/c-U28zjeUN8/quando-voce-estava-triste-te-fiz-sorrir.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/02/quando-voce-estava-triste-te-fiz-sorrir.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQASH0zeCp7ImA9Wx9WEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-625762851340498052</id><published>2011-01-16T10:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T10:42:29.380-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-16T10:42:29.380-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">It's the rain coming back&lt;br /&gt;And now, I'll open the windows&lt;br /&gt;There will be my feet touching the street&lt;br /&gt;While I'm not going away finally&lt;br /&gt;This time I will not fake even a simple thing&lt;br /&gt;Like I'm trying to stop for so long&lt;br /&gt;But just now i realized that I can do it&lt;br /&gt;Without losing my real smile&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't lock feelings &lt;br /&gt;Because the truth is &lt;br /&gt;that they still would stay inside&lt;br /&gt;And I was leaving myself behind the door&lt;br /&gt;Just to make sure to do not let me be as I used to&lt;br /&gt;I was just tired&lt;br /&gt;Altough I know that I cannot be different&lt;br /&gt;Everyone would say  is exausting to live to another ones&lt;br /&gt;But is too important, and people always forget the others&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I would answer, it is exausting&lt;br /&gt;But this is who I am&lt;br /&gt;And I can get sick of it &lt;br /&gt;But i cannot deny&lt;br /&gt;And I can try to run away&lt;br /&gt;But there will always be me coming home&lt;br /&gt;It's beautiful, like a miracle&lt;br /&gt;All the times I find out what I'm here for, I cry&lt;br /&gt;The heart crying and beating with me&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I let it go&lt;br /&gt;Until I remember&lt;br /&gt;I'm here for you, you all&lt;br /&gt;I'm blessed but that's to share&lt;br /&gt;And if I could, I would do anything&lt;br /&gt;I would give everything of my own&lt;br /&gt;If that means you being saved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-625762851340498052?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3J-O974WJlm-ltB660CYXttuvQk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3J-O974WJlm-ltB660CYXttuvQk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3J-O974WJlm-ltB660CYXttuvQk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3J-O974WJlm-ltB660CYXttuvQk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/Bow8RMhDvQM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/625762851340498052/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=625762851340498052" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/625762851340498052?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/625762851340498052?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/Bow8RMhDvQM/its-rain-coming-back-and-now-ill-open.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-rain-coming-back-and-now-ill-open.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYERHo5cSp7ImA9Wx9QFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-705750980323222653</id><published>2010-12-28T05:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T05:31:45.429-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-28T05:31:45.429-08:00</app:edited><title>Perfect song for this moment</title><content type="html">"Maybe if my heart stops beating&lt;br /&gt;It won’t hurt this much&lt;br /&gt;And never will I have to answer&lt;br /&gt;Again to anyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please don’t get me wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I’ll never let this go&lt;br /&gt;But I can’t find the words to tell you&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want to be alone"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-705750980323222653?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NXzaKErxlR5xC04piRonQEA38uw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NXzaKErxlR5xC04piRonQEA38uw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NXzaKErxlR5xC04piRonQEA38uw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NXzaKErxlR5xC04piRonQEA38uw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/3Z6KGo1iHv8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/705750980323222653/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=705750980323222653" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/705750980323222653?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/705750980323222653?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/3Z6KGo1iHv8/perfect-song-for-this-moment.html" title="Perfect song for this moment" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/perfect-song-for-this-moment.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ECQn4_cSp7ImA9Wx9QFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-3468381693773855431</id><published>2010-12-27T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T11:54:23.049-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-27T11:54:23.049-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">- &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Would you feel happier if you didn't know me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; No. Surely not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that is all that I wanted to hear. And now, I'm trying to convince myself that the best is do not go away. I always think that I would be helping you if I just could stop being near or something like that. Because I never intend to, but I'm always messing your life and turning everything complicated.&lt;br /&gt;But with your answer, I want to try, I want to stay. The only thing that could make me go are your blues. But I know you'll feel it anyway, you're so human... And I'm... I'm almost a robot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-3468381693773855431?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M4fq2ZSrhW4Hr_MY-PGcf7EimvQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M4fq2ZSrhW4Hr_MY-PGcf7EimvQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M4fq2ZSrhW4Hr_MY-PGcf7EimvQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M4fq2ZSrhW4Hr_MY-PGcf7EimvQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/C9N9hiOpJQk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/3468381693773855431/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=3468381693773855431" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/3468381693773855431?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/3468381693773855431?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/C9N9hiOpJQk/would-you-feel-happier-if-you-didnt.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/would-you-feel-happier-if-you-didnt.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcGSH49fyp7ImA9Wx9RGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-428180440453812872</id><published>2010-12-19T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T03:53:49.067-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-20T03:53:49.067-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">I wonder if loving worth&lt;br /&gt;Closing eyes to do not cry&lt;br /&gt;Fulled with ilusions&lt;br /&gt;Pretending that it's about to change&lt;br /&gt;Sucked with so much love&lt;br /&gt;And still locked to not fly&lt;br /&gt;Feeling like the whole world is about to crush down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To do not get hurt&lt;br /&gt;You have to not let yourself get involved&lt;br /&gt;To do not let yourself suffer&lt;br /&gt;You have to forget the pain of love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What matters to me if the time is runnig out?&lt;br /&gt;And the fallen leaves outside&lt;br /&gt;Are flying blowed by wind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rain is falling, tight and cold&lt;br /&gt;Like little needles punching me&lt;br /&gt;I know that I can't protect mylself forever&lt;br /&gt;- Hiding inside&lt;br /&gt;My ceiling can get collapsed upon me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I won't be the one to cry&lt;br /&gt;There still will be the sky full of stars&lt;br /&gt;And my hope is that will be enough to cover my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I will not cry&lt;br /&gt;And I won't even try a new love&lt;br /&gt;My heart is closed for business&lt;br /&gt;And lost in the darkness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(30/06/05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-428180440453812872?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9d7yv3Jch9T1yN2X-dPeKlWLMd8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9d7yv3Jch9T1yN2X-dPeKlWLMd8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9d7yv3Jch9T1yN2X-dPeKlWLMd8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9d7yv3Jch9T1yN2X-dPeKlWLMd8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/kddg5OKXoGw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/428180440453812872/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=428180440453812872" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/428180440453812872?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/428180440453812872?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/kddg5OKXoGw/i-wonder-if-loving-worth-closing-eyed.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-wonder-if-loving-worth-closing-eyed.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYDRHg-fyp7ImA9Wx9RGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-3498165393836014749</id><published>2010-12-19T09:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T03:56:15.657-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-20T03:56:15.657-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Why is useless to think&lt;br /&gt;About the dreams which have end on another ones?&lt;br /&gt;Why I cannot believe &lt;br /&gt;That I can be just like I used to dream?&lt;br /&gt;The dreams always tell&lt;br /&gt;Prevent,predict&lt;br /&gt;And I still think&lt;br /&gt;That thinking is a way to dream consciously&lt;br /&gt;When you sleep, you are in black&lt;br /&gt;I preffer to be inside,&lt;br /&gt;And not the being I see outside&lt;br /&gt;Things that are not arrested&lt;br /&gt;Always get corrupted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;05/07/05&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-3498165393836014749?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BwcmyM0mvDUgJn_uwQq1KMNT478/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BwcmyM0mvDUgJn_uwQq1KMNT478/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BwcmyM0mvDUgJn_uwQq1KMNT478/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BwcmyM0mvDUgJn_uwQq1KMNT478/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/yQOhMOkhK5w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/3498165393836014749/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=3498165393836014749" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/3498165393836014749?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/3498165393836014749?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/yQOhMOkhK5w/why-is-useless-to-think-about-dreams.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/why-is-useless-to-think-about-dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUHSXs5eyp7ImA9Wx9RF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-8959848351756494064</id><published>2010-12-19T08:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T09:03:58.523-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-19T09:03:58.523-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">I loved you only by a look&lt;br /&gt;For just a moment... an endless moment&lt;br /&gt;But a lot of moments without you now I'm passing&lt;br /&gt;And I didn't lose the memories of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know, closing eyes is not enought, or crying&lt;br /&gt;Just think of losing you like that&lt;br /&gt;My tears can leave me drunk&lt;br /&gt;But my love is locked inside of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to see the time passing away&lt;br /&gt;Don't wanna say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was be free to dream&lt;br /&gt;Without seeing your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Or thinking about your embrace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I want to say goodbye forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(05/07/05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-8959848351756494064?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wdYjEiNUJdj-cl7uzKwrc8vqLh0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wdYjEiNUJdj-cl7uzKwrc8vqLh0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wdYjEiNUJdj-cl7uzKwrc8vqLh0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wdYjEiNUJdj-cl7uzKwrc8vqLh0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/mLxoQADNoGY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/8959848351756494064/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=8959848351756494064" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/8959848351756494064?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/8959848351756494064?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/mLxoQADNoGY/i-loved-you-only-by-look-for-just.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-loved-you-only-by-look-for-just.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8CRHY7eSp7ImA9Wx9RGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-5644095644114084929</id><published>2010-12-19T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T04:24:25.801-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-20T04:24:25.801-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">Sorry if now I am hurting you&lt;br /&gt;I just dream about getting away someday&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to see the end of something&lt;br /&gt;That not became yet&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to cry anymore&lt;br /&gt;And pretend that everything is okay&lt;br /&gt;In fact, it is not, I know&lt;br /&gt;What I don't know is if I want to dream any longer&lt;br /&gt;Because I just want to forget you&lt;br /&gt;Or pretend that I don't care so much&lt;br /&gt;And pretend that I never wondered about what can happen&lt;br /&gt;Pretend that everything is once again what it was&lt;br /&gt;When I did not have to worry&lt;br /&gt;About not crying if someday you leave me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(04/07/05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-5644095644114084929?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dg7X6k510lBah7huPmymQ19tdNw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dg7X6k510lBah7huPmymQ19tdNw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dg7X6k510lBah7huPmymQ19tdNw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dg7X6k510lBah7huPmymQ19tdNw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/mHxRVMfLa-c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/5644095644114084929/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=5644095644114084929" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/5644095644114084929?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/5644095644114084929?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/mHxRVMfLa-c/sorry-if-now-i-am-hurting-you-i-just.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/sorry-if-now-i-am-hurting-you-i-just.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEBQnY6eCp7ImA9Wx9RF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-4622879058649796567</id><published>2010-12-19T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T08:54:13.810-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-19T08:54:13.810-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">What did you want&lt;br /&gt;When you made me lost&lt;br /&gt;Some many dreams&lt;br /&gt;SO much of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to see you coming&lt;br /&gt;Don't even want to think about&lt;br /&gt;The day you will no longer be here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you open your eyes&lt;br /&gt;You will probably shall not see me&lt;br /&gt;If you don't wake up on time&lt;br /&gt;You will certainly lose me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fading away, darling&lt;br /&gt;Just because I don't want to be hurt by you&lt;br /&gt;Not now, at least&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(04/07/05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-4622879058649796567?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vY3owZ7g9bZM9o-OEJTaTA8Rm00/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vY3owZ7g9bZM9o-OEJTaTA8Rm00/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vY3owZ7g9bZM9o-OEJTaTA8Rm00/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vY3owZ7g9bZM9o-OEJTaTA8Rm00/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/sJdzI_cvmiw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/4622879058649796567/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=4622879058649796567" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/4622879058649796567?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/4622879058649796567?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/sJdzI_cvmiw/what-did-you-want-when-you-made-me-lost.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-did-you-want-when-you-made-me-lost.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MFQH8_eip7ImA9Wx9RGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296461207190861876.post-7496385959675157414</id><published>2010-12-19T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T03:43:31.142-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-20T03:43:31.142-08:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">I want to escape for a place&lt;br /&gt;Where only I know&lt;br /&gt;Where night keeps my secrets in silence&lt;br /&gt;And the wind blows my sadness away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that river that washes my tears&lt;br /&gt;Is reflected the face that should own my dreams&lt;br /&gt;That is the place you were at once&lt;br /&gt;But your reflect is no longer lied there next to mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hiding dreams through the endless night&lt;br /&gt;Painting the mirage that was a part of me&lt;br /&gt;And now,&lt;br /&gt;I've been hiding on smiles&lt;br /&gt;Every and all the pain&lt;br /&gt;That used to live inside myself&lt;br /&gt;because I can't watch You Suffering for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(04/07/05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6296461207190861876-7496385959675157414?l=lettersalbano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MfgGK1XhQrjDijf123QqHOQPNGw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MfgGK1XhQrjDijf123QqHOQPNGw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MfgGK1XhQrjDijf123QqHOQPNGw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MfgGK1XhQrjDijf123QqHOQPNGw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~4/RVhFeQ0Q3Z4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/feeds/7496385959675157414/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6296461207190861876&amp;postID=7496385959675157414" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/7496385959675157414?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6296461207190861876/posts/default/7496385959675157414?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RvVHa/~3/RVhFeQ0Q3Z4/i-want-to-escape-for-place-where-only-i.html" title="" /><author><name>Roberta Albano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04349332920406913686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D5hNuHDVVgY/SYCsI_6zk9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/GMjX9iwtY-4/S220/S7302957.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://lettersalbano.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-want-to-escape-for-place-where-only-i.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

