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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;D08BQn4yfSp7ImA9WhdQE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348</id><updated>2011-08-14T12:30:53.095-03:00</updated><category term="lâmpada mágica" /><category term="humilde" /><category term="gatos" /><category term="pecado" /><category term="óbvio" /><category term="telefone" /><category term="abandono" /><category term="Amigo" /><category term="Amizade" /><category term="freiras" /><category term="garis" /><category term="brasa" /><category term="flores" /><category term="boazinha" /><category term="compasso" /><category term="monstro" /><category term="almas" /><category term="ausência" /><category term="Marília" /><category term="prosa" /><category term="etiqueta" /><category term="dia internacional da mulher" /><category term="conto" /><category term="cuida" /><category term="estrelas" /><category term="imagem" /><category term="atitude" /><category term="criança" /><category term="emprego" /><category term="Gisele" /><category term="Colégio" /><category term="filme" /><category term="neurótica" /><category term="fada" /><category term="dança" /><category term="escrever" /><category term="filhos" /><category term="silêncio" /><category term="jornal" /><category term="ritmo" /><category term="despertar" /><category term="equilíbrio" /><category term="sonhos" /><category term="leão" /><category term="maquiavélico" /><category term="Amor" /><category term="alegria" /><category term="dignidade" /><category term="crueldade" /><category term="fé" /><category term="rejeição" /><category term="Morte" /><category term="bandolins" /><category term="sol" /><category term="faraó" /><category term="hábitos" /><category term="desinteressante" /><category term="vitória" /><category term="pensador" /><category term="consolo" /><category term="mão" /><category term="despedida" /><category term="jardim" /><category term="Carolina" /><category term="sapato velho" /><category term="Fernanda" /><category term="Esperança" /><category term="troféus" /><category term="Tempo" /><category term="fogo" /><category term="partida" /><category term="abençoada" /><category term="salvação" /><category term="carreira" /><category term="pão" /><category term="desculpas" /><category term="desamor" /><category term="satisfação" /><category term="melancolia" /><category term="Ciranda" /><category term="música" /><category term="cachorros" /><category term="Igreja" /><category term="exóticas" /><category term="vitrine" /><category term="adolescência" /><category term="mulher" /><category term="espelhos" /><category term="Deus" /><category term="angústia" /><category term="Respeito" /><category term="imponente" /><category term="mapa" /><category term="vida" /><category term="autoestima" /><category term="caderno" /><category term="sorte" /><category term="tristeza" /><category term="perdão" /><category term="escolhas" /><category term="esmola" /><category term="presente" /><category term="Luto" /><category term="beleza" /><category term="valores" /><category term="velha senhora" /><category term="feminilidade" /><category term="feminino" /><category term="casa" /><category term="afaga" /><category term="síndico" /><category term="Elegante" /><category term="afeto" /><category term="computador" /><category term="conversa" /><category term="gratidão" /><category term="mãos" /><category term="Domingo" /><category term="carro" /><category term="livro" /><category term="esquisito" /><category term="saudade" /><category term="palavra" /><category term="domínios" /><category term="cruel" /><category term="manias" /><category term="menino" /><category term="rosa" /><category term="indiferença" /><category term="ilusão" /><category term="infância" /><category term="bruxa" /><category term="prece" /><category term="bebê" /><category term="delírio" /><category term="sincronia" /><category term="Sharon Stone" /><category term="interessante" /><category term="luz" /><category term="Boris Casoy" /><category term="verdades" /><category term="fracasso" /><category term="desafinado" /><category term="experiência" /><category term="olhar" /><category term="Sexta-feira" /><category term="Perdas" /><category term="sopro" /><title>Redescobrir</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</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/ajcX" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/ajcx" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkADQns-eCp7ImA9Wx5aFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-2367554011232832931</id><published>2010-11-12T00:57:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T00:59:33.550-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-12T00:59:33.550-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tristeza" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="crueldade" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="despertar" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="abandono" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mãos" /><title>Despertar</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2367554011232832931/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/11/despertar.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2367554011232832931?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2367554011232832931?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/clkfTFQro8k/despertar.html" title="Despertar" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Olhava fixamente para as mãos. Suas mãos. O rosto não guardava qualquer expressão, nem um esboço de tudo que carregava no peito, nem dos pensamentos que, como em desenfreada corrida, ocupavam sua mente.Aquelas mãos, suas mãos, sempre ocupadas em um afago, um consolo, um cuidado, hoje desnecessárias, esquecidas, como que vazias.O faz de conta em que se refugiara não lhe dava mais acolhida e o 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y5YJlZ3Cv09neNC4kheAkMchYoc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y5YJlZ3Cv09neNC4kheAkMchYoc/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/ajcX/~4/clkfTFQro8k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/11/despertar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUABR3s8eyp7ImA9Wx5UGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-6419067315509559472</id><published>2010-10-23T17:54:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T17:55:56.573-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-23T17:55:56.573-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="melancolia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prosa" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="luz" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fé" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ciranda" /><title>Ciranda</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6419067315509559472/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/ciranda.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6419067315509559472?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6419067315509559472?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/m9VJhz0qn6U/ciranda.html" title="Ciranda" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">“Como se fora                                      A brincadeira de rodaMemórias!Jogo do trabalhoNa dança das mãosMacias!”(Gonzaguinha)Nada como o cheiro, o aroma e a música para reavivar lembranças e até mesmo impedir o esquecimento algumas vezes tão desejado.             Hoje, não por acaso, um trecho da música “Redescobrir” de Gonzaguinha.Na tentativa de espantar a melancolia que se fortalece 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TcLfgMTaFaceYNyNmDB0AmCL52g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TcLfgMTaFaceYNyNmDB0AmCL52g/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/ajcX/~4/m9VJhz0qn6U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/ciranda.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YFRnw_fyp7ImA9Wx5UGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-2891567435387250662</id><published>2010-10-23T13:51:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T13:51:57.247-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-23T13:51:57.247-02:00</app:edited><title>Blog Where: Histórias...</title><link rel="related" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/historias.html" title="Blog Where: Histórias..." /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2891567435387250662/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-where-historias.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2891567435387250662?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2891567435387250662?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/JO-uwKbU3h8/blog-where-historias.html" title="Blog Where: Histórias..." /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Blog Where: Histórias...
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U4vePa_jaw7esSiH0vHLJRYtr7w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U4vePa_jaw7esSiH0vHLJRYtr7w/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/ajcX/~4/JO-uwKbU3h8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-where-historias.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cAQXo9fCp7ImA9Wx5UGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-2161403974979688247</id><published>2010-10-23T13:40:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T13:50:40.464-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-23T13:50:40.464-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="olhar" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="livro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="infância" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="caderno" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beleza" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="escrever" /><title>Histórias...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2161403974979688247/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/historias.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2161403974979688247?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2161403974979688247?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/ST0fUcxJhMU/historias.html" title="Histórias..." /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cnHV8wQtQSw/TMMDl92RF_I/AAAAAAAAAEU/n6xd7mkD5UE/s72-c/ato_falho.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Filha mais nova dentre quatro mulheres, sete anos me separam da terceira, onze da segunda e catorze da primeira. Todas dirão, com certeza, que não havia necessidade de tantos detalhes, com uma delas complementando que sou prolixa, mesmo.Muito nova já constatei que minhas irmãs eram dotadas de uma beleza singular; destacavam-se em qualquer ambiente, atraindo sempre os olhares masculinos e 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vdfSM2SGyyd6k_Pmuf5a1LfJ2BQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vdfSM2SGyyd6k_Pmuf5a1LfJ2BQ/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/ajcX/~4/ST0fUcxJhMU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/historias.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4ARXc_cCp7ImA9Wx5UEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-3192184529532349315</id><published>2010-10-15T23:39:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T23:42:24.948-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-15T23:42:24.948-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="saudade" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bebê" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="neurótica" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="filhos" /><title>Neurótica, eu?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3192184529532349315/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/neurotica-eu.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3192184529532349315?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3192184529532349315?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/7AGYnCzPQ1g/neurotica-eu.html" title="Neurótica, eu?" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Nos primeiros meses de vida dos meus filhos, eu ficava o máximo de tempo possível olhando para aquele serzinho minúsculo, atenta a cada detalhe, a cada mínima expressão. Não escondia de ninguém a certeza de que a sobrevivência dele dependia única e exclusivamente de mim, afinal, somente eu, a mãe, conseguiria atender as necessidades do bebê, trocar a fralda, dar banho e embalar do jeitinho que 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/x0J8ru8pag77Q61iRCeztObPL1s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/x0J8ru8pag77Q61iRCeztObPL1s/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/ajcX/~4/7AGYnCzPQ1g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/neurotica-eu.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IBSXs7cCp7ImA9Wx5VGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-6470057987651289822</id><published>2010-10-11T19:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T19:19:18.508-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-11T19:19:18.508-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="monstro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="espelhos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vitória" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prece" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="leão" /><title>Por ora...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6470057987651289822/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/por-ora.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6470057987651289822?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6470057987651289822?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/IyWamYvX7Ik/por-ora.html" title="Por ora..." /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Por ora eu me contento. Para espanto de muitos e alegria de poucos, nasci teimosa. E a vida, que nada deixa escapar, me acompanha nessa teimosia e às vezes até lhe ouço a risada empurrando-me, fazendo-me prosseguir.Essa expressão tão usada de matar um leão por dia não me agrada por tudo que ela carrega em si; o ato de tirar a vida e o leão que, convenhamos, sequer sonha com minhas agruras.  Então
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CTIVfE98KCXWxcQrCSJWuAhq0mQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CTIVfE98KCXWxcQrCSJWuAhq0mQ/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/ajcX/~4/IyWamYvX7Ik" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/por-ora.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YERng6fSp7ImA9Wx5QE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4875881286387331848</id><published>2010-09-01T16:15:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T16:25:07.615-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-01T16:25:07.615-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="imponente" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Elegante" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="satisfação" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dignidade" /><title>Assim Como na Vida...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4875881286387331848/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/09/assim-como-na-vida.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4875881286387331848?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4875881286387331848?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/3grIq3ItDAo/assim-como-na-vida.html" title="Assim Como na Vida..." /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Na elegante loja vendiam móveis de extremo bom gosto e preciosidades antigas. No galpão que ficava na parte detrás da loja eram restauradas valiosas peças e fabricavam outras requintadas e caras.  Ela olhava a enorme e imponente estante numa mal disfarçada admiração invejosa e vã tentativa de aparentar desprezo.- Ora - pensava –  um brutamontes, isso sim!Desviando o olhar encarou altiva o 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-i1kChPHW0B21Iyz7QFFa8Chaps/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-i1kChPHW0B21Iyz7QFFa8Chaps/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/ajcX/~4/3grIq3ItDAo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/09/assim-como-na-vida.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8ESHk_fCp7ImA9Wx5RF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4802254816483986671</id><published>2010-08-25T00:23:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T00:26:49.744-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-25T00:26:49.744-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cachorros" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conversa" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gatos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vitrine" /><title>Sobre gatos e...Gatos!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4802254816483986671/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/08/sobre-gatos-egatos.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4802254816483986671?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4802254816483986671?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/ULAfxg6cGDs/sobre-gatos-egatos.html" title="Sobre gatos e...Gatos!" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Estava olhando as vitrines das lojas numa ruazinha agradável. Olhava roupas e acessórios que os olhos amavam, mas a carteira impunha algumas restrições.De repente ouve a voz familiar de uma conhecida de longa data. Na verdade havia um grau de parentesco que mais parecia uma estrada cheia de bifurcações e para explicá-lo era necessário uma espécie de croqui.Assim, o parentesco só é mencionado aqui
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KlfVBx2rdEsLHcm4X8rJYCgEmVU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KlfVBx2rdEsLHcm4X8rJYCgEmVU/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/ajcX/~4/ULAfxg6cGDs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/08/sobre-gatos-egatos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUAQHk6eCp7ImA9Wx5SE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4784611384003104314</id><published>2010-08-08T21:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T21:37:21.710-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-08T21:37:21.710-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="criança" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Amor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="angústia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="velha senhora" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sincronia" /><title>A Senhora, a Mulher e a Criança</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4784611384003104314/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/08/senhora-mulher-e-crianca.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4784611384003104314?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4784611384003104314?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/ntS-qmXC2LI/senhora-mulher-e-crianca.html" title="A Senhora, a Mulher e a Criança" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">A mulher preparava o café e ao lado dela, na cozinha, a menina olhava a velha senhora sentada na poltrona da sala olhando a televisão. Olhava sem ver, a menina o sabia, enquanto observava o rosto marcado, de expressão carregada.Não eram as rugas, profundas e semelhantes a sulcos irregulares feitos na terra por um arado conduzido sem habilidade que tornavam a expressão amarga de descrença e 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-xg0UswZ3Son53B1L72fvwUsoiU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-xg0UswZ3Son53B1L72fvwUsoiU/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/ajcX/~4/ntS-qmXC2LI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/08/senhora-mulher-e-crianca.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUARX09eSp7ImA9WxFTEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4387176582122647060</id><published>2010-04-01T15:37:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T15:40:44.361-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-01T15:40:44.361-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sorte" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="telefone" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="etiqueta" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="maquiavélico" /><title>Quem Gostaria?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4387176582122647060/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/04/quem-gostaria.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4387176582122647060?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4387176582122647060?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/t-AiYFmy2QQ/quem-gostaria.html" title="Quem Gostaria?" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Recebi um e-mail que, com certeza, já circulou muito. Tratava de algumas regras básicas de educação. Não uso “etiqueta” porque é uma palavra que definitivamente não me atrai, remete a algo rígido e chato.Voltando às regras contidas na mensagem, uma delas recomendava jamais fazer aquela perguntinha tão conhecida e desagradável – quem gostaria (?) – ao atender telefonemas e antes de dizer se a 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XH3l8CBagNev-XQytqLKLPE9I0o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XH3l8CBagNev-XQytqLKLPE9I0o/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/ajcX/~4/t-AiYFmy2QQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/04/quem-gostaria.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMARXY5cSp7ImA9WxBbEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4160916044947189947</id><published>2010-03-08T17:24:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T18:07:24.829-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-08T18:07:24.829-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dia internacional da mulher" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="feminino" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="feminilidade" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rosa" /><title>Um Dia Quase Normal</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4160916044947189947/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/um-dia-quase-normal.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4160916044947189947?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4160916044947189947?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/stVeOx-V7qU/um-dia-quase-normal.html" title="Um Dia Quase Normal" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Hoje foi um dia quase normal. Acredito que tenha sido um dia quase normal para quase todas as mulheres.Quase normal porque, com ou sem restrições ao caráter comercial da data, temos que encarar o fato: é o “Dia Internacional da Mulher”.Quase todas as mulheres porque não nos esquecemos das barbáries, mutilações, mortes por apedrejamento de seres humanos que ousaram nascer no feminino e, pior, 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/E5n-YU1rFYtX-JGWdtQKrAnMUK8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/E5n-YU1rFYtX-JGWdtQKrAnMUK8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~4/stVeOx-V7qU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/um-dia-quase-normal.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QDQXY8eCp7ImA9WxBUFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4873306241008145302</id><published>2010-03-03T01:40:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T01:42:50.870-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-03T01:42:50.870-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="delírio" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="valores" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mapa" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rejeição" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lâmpada mágica" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="autoestima" /><title>Aprendizado</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4873306241008145302/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/aprendizado.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4873306241008145302?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4873306241008145302?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/LwKA2Yc_16E/aprendizado.html" title="Aprendizado" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Acredito que para quem chega ao mundo sem receber instruções, sem manual, mapa, fórmula ou lâmpada mágica, até que nos saímos bem. Aos poucos, talvez por instinto e seguindo uma lógica própria, que de lógico nada tem, vamos elaborando nossa fórmula. Num traçado intuitivo fazemos o mapa e, a lâmpada mágica ficamos a esperar, pois já disseram que não se pode ter tudo. Será que não? Em alguns 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9dBx4-n_CFC7ZQvoNYDPMAfKp1k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9dBx4-n_CFC7ZQvoNYDPMAfKp1k/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/ajcX/~4/LwKA2Yc_16E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/aprendizado.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUENQnc5cSp7ImA9WxBUFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-2702910514259418185</id><published>2010-03-02T16:15:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T16:21:33.929-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-02T16:21:33.929-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="partida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="escolhas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="afeto" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gratidão" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bruxa" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fada" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>Ela Queria Um Conto de Fadas</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2702910514259418185/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/ela-queria-um-conto-de-fadas.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2702910514259418185?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2702910514259418185?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/uKi7JsMIaE8/ela-queria-um-conto-de-fadas.html" title="Ela Queria Um Conto de Fadas" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Ela queria um conto de fadas, mas nenhuma apareceu e da vida ganhou uma história que nem sabe se um conto daria. Uma vida ansiosa por fazer escolhas certas, ser a pessoa certa cegou-a por muito tempo, impedindo que visse os sinais cada dia mais evidentes do fim que se aproximava. Há muito não se sentia em casa naquele lugar, sabia que ali nunca mais seria seu lar. Dava-se conta que, por muito 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g2jgM21K5G869FnajHSCgk9fjsU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g2jgM21K5G869FnajHSCgk9fjsU/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/ajcX/~4/uKi7JsMIaE8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/ela-queria-um-conto-de-fadas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMFQ3w6fip7ImA9WxBVF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4494286066064994426</id><published>2010-02-21T17:48:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T18:40:12.216-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-21T18:40:12.216-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="indiferença" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="equilíbrio" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desamor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ritmo" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="compasso" /><title>Vida, Ritmo e Compasso.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4494286066064994426/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/vida-ritmo-e-compasso.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4494286066064994426?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4494286066064994426?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/96aqOwLCIaI/vida-ritmo-e-compasso.html" title="Vida, Ritmo e Compasso." /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Acorda e, mal abre os olhos, é atingida sem chance de fuga, de refúgio. Ela sabe, ele sempre estivera ali, à espreita, aguardando o momento em que ela teria que encará-lo. Quem disse que os sentimentos não sabem ser traiçoeiros? Ou quem disse exatamente o contrário, que justamente por ser sentimento conseguia sê-lo – traiçoeiro - com especial habilidade?O sentimento reconhecido, aquela 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Cpa-B3eRBDvhYi7xeig9OD9mXiQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Cpa-B3eRBDvhYi7xeig9OD9mXiQ/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/ajcX/~4/96aqOwLCIaI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/vida-ritmo-e-compasso.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkACRX8zfip7ImA9WxBVFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-3356304978124420718</id><published>2010-02-19T20:21:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T20:32:44.186-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-19T20:32:44.186-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="satisfação" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="atitude" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="óbvio" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="abençoada" /><title>Afinal, Você Merece!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3356304978124420718/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/afinal-voce-merece.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3356304978124420718?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3356304978124420718?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/GPdCZ8Mt0ic/afinal-voce-merece.html" title="Afinal, Você Merece!" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Você pode passar a vida dando satisfações, explicando o óbvio, repetindo e repetindo seus motivos. Com sorte e se estiver atenta percebe que isso acontece sempre com as mesmas pessoas. Aí você desanima, cansa, e se sente literalmente exaurida.Mas, ainda com mais sorte e mais atenta, um dia você finalmente percebe que quanto mais satisfações você der, mais será cobrada; quanto mais explicar o 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JXd2cY-RwOXbjgUxLgVenmKOW18/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JXd2cY-RwOXbjgUxLgVenmKOW18/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~4/GPdCZ8Mt0ic" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/afinal-voce-merece.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08AQH8zfSp7ImA9WxBVEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-3081395685306005237</id><published>2010-02-15T18:26:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T18:30:41.185-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-15T18:30:41.185-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="interessante" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adolescência" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gisele" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beleza" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Carolina" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sharon Stone" /><title>Mulheres Interessantes</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3081395685306005237/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/mulheres-interessantes.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3081395685306005237?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3081395685306005237?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/P7tRs_eSw4k/mulheres-interessantes.html" title="Mulheres Interessantes" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Que atire a primeira pedra aquela que nunca, nem uma vez sequer, tenha procurado um defeito, qualquer coisinha mínima nessas mulheres lindíssimas com quem a mídia nos afronta diariamente.Acredito que o risco de encarar uma multidão feminina munida e pronta para o ataque não seja muito grande, mas tiro meu chapéu para as que começarem o apedrejamento.Da minha parte, esclareço que nunca fiquei 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7UCXygueHLpGxk34ePW6LoK7ld0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7UCXygueHLpGxk34ePW6LoK7ld0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~4/P7tRs_eSw4k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/mulheres-interessantes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcGSXY6cSp7ImA9WxBWGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-3285263296112510649</id><published>2010-02-10T22:57:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T23:00:28.819-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-10T23:00:28.819-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Amor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="carro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Amizade" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="computador" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Respeito" /><title>Conversa no Aeroporto</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3285263296112510649/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/conversa-no-aeroporto.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3285263296112510649?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3285263296112510649?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/RrCaMg1fq8A/conversa-no-aeroporto.html" title="Conversa no Aeroporto" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Há algum tempo tive a oportunidade de conversar com um senhor de quase oitenta anos. Estávamos no aeroporto de Curitiba aguardando a chamada para embarque. Confesso que estava tão cansada e ansiosa para voltar para casa, que só notei sua presença quando falou: - Impressionante a capacidade que o ser humano tem de inverter tudo – Como que em resposta ao meu olhar um tanto surpreso, continuou:- Usa
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4x-2TBFgoOLTRd3qPpeKObC5sQc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4x-2TBFgoOLTRd3qPpeKObC5sQc/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/ajcX/~4/RrCaMg1fq8A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/conversa-no-aeroporto.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcASX0-eyp7ImA9WxBWFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-6371084164099360557</id><published>2010-02-06T00:19:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T00:24:08.353-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-06T00:24:08.353-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sapato velho" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="música" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desamor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="estrelas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boazinha" /><title>Sapato Velho</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6371084164099360557/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/sapato-velho.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6371084164099360557?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6371084164099360557?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/m6DZyvZ9t4o/sapato-velho.html" title="Sapato Velho" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Em mais de vinte anos Manuela pouco mudou. É esse tipo de pessoa que o tempo poupa de algumas marcas. Atenção, eu friso, algumas.Ela sempre foi destituída de atributos físicos, os traços não eram harmoniosos não levando em consideração, aqui, padrões de beleza. Quem a conhecia, logo nos primeiros minutos chegava à conclusão de que não era bela, mas tinha gentileza e educação extremas e raras. 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Dsfb0m-OK3FtlG8NCSJPxLUE9AA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Dsfb0m-OK3FtlG8NCSJPxLUE9AA/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/ajcX/~4/m6DZyvZ9t4o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/sapato-velho.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUCSXs9fCp7ImA9WxBWEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-4390284884684154267</id><published>2010-02-03T20:20:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T20:31:08.564-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-03T20:31:08.564-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="exóticas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jornal" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="manias" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ausência" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hábitos" /><title>Como Poderia Ter Sido “Se”</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4390284884684154267/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/como-poderia-ter-sido-se.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4390284884684154267?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/4390284884684154267?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/G5c_VtwRzjA/como-poderia-ter-sido-se.html" title="Como Poderia Ter Sido “&lt;em&gt;Se&lt;/em&gt;”" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Sabe, na sua ausência, adquiri estranhos hábitos e aprendi coisas exóticas como, por exemplo, rir de mim mesma, das pequenas besteiras e até do meu jeito desajeitado. Hoje, xingo sem pudor quando bato o joelho na poltrona que insisto em deixar no mesmo lugar. Não precisa fazer essa cara de horror, pois o máximo que falo é um “merda” e, sabe que ajuda a aliviar a dor?Certo, repito o palavrão 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YLM12D9zIbsJtouWQngv1eoVolI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YLM12D9zIbsJtouWQngv1eoVolI/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/ajcX/~4/G5c_VtwRzjA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/como-poderia-ter-sido-se.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEMSHY9eyp7ImA9WxBWEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-789029640672661653</id><published>2010-02-03T17:17:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T17:18:09.863-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-03T17:18:09.863-02:00</app:edited><title>A Vida Pode Ser Maravilhosa...?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/789029640672661653/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/vida-pode-ser-maravilhosa.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/789029640672661653?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/789029640672661653?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/0Pvjzim0n9w/vida-pode-ser-maravilhosa.html" title="A Vida Pode Ser Maravilhosa...?" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Tenho certo cuidado com esses rompantes de “passar a vida a limpo”, fazer um “balanço geral”, “listar perdas e ganhos”. Por covardia, assumo, pois não sei se quero encarar o resultado. O que eu sei é que quando as coisas ficam complicadas passamos a listar os problemas priorizando a necessidade e aí vem a saudade do tempo em que a lista era feita priorizando desejos.A etapa seguinte é a lista das
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DDr4YnS5XuH3VnUEGb8fiBVuwgw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DDr4YnS5XuH3VnUEGb8fiBVuwgw/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/ajcX/~4/0Pvjzim0n9w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/vida-pode-ser-maravilhosa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMDR3k6cCp7ImA9WxBWEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-6348648252510788183</id><published>2010-02-01T17:49:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T18:01:16.718-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-01T18:01:16.718-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sexta-feira" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faraó" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="síndico" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pão" /><title>É só um pão!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6348648252510788183/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/e-so-um-pao.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6348648252510788183?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/6348648252510788183?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/lSA6yuzC7Fo/e-so-um-pao.html" title="É só um pão!" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Sexta-feira, final de tarde, cansada depois de um dia de trabalho um pouco difícil, chego em casa, jogo-me no sofá já tirando os sapatos, quando lembro que havia esquecido de comprar pão. Respirei fundo, lembrei de tudo que estou lendo sobre a importância de emanar boas energias, não superestimar pequenas contrariedades, ter sempre pensamentos positivos e, colocando em prática, argumentei comigo 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Zkk_DQ-Vpl6ok6-cEK3_vo-MYJg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Zkk_DQ-Vpl6ok6-cEK3_vo-MYJg/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/ajcX/~4/lSA6yuzC7Fo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/e-so-um-pao.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAASHg-eip7ImA9WxBWEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-3599739954918901359</id><published>2010-02-01T10:48:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T10:52:29.652-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-01T10:52:29.652-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marília" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="angústia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tristeza" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Domingo" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fernanda" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="filme" /><title>O Que Irrita Fernanda ou Como Sobreviver ao Domingo</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3599739954918901359/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/o-que-irrita-fernanda-ou-como.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3599739954918901359?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/3599739954918901359?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/7ieIa6yelk8/o-que-irrita-fernanda-ou-como.html" title="O Que Irrita Fernanda ou Como Sobreviver ao Domingo" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Domingo foi um daqueles dias que se arrastaram melancólicos em que todos os sentimentos indesejados ganham uma proporção gigantesca. Angústia, saudade, tristeza decepção viram monstros com as bocarras abertas prestes a nos engolir. Num domingo assim, a tristeza pelo pé na bunda que pensávamos estar superado volta com força total, a frustração pela falta de reconhecimento por um trabalho bem feito
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJb5xf36f5bd1QDRXbphR09X0zc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJb5xf36f5bd1QDRXbphR09X0zc/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/ajcX/~4/7ieIa6yelk8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/02/o-que-irrita-fernanda-ou-como.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQMR304eSp7ImA9WxBXGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-5360311834121790615</id><published>2010-01-30T20:21:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T20:26:26.331-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-30T20:26:26.331-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Perdas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="música" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Luto" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Tempo" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Esperança" /><title>Mais Louco é Quem Me Diz</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5360311834121790615/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/01/mais-louco-e-quem-me-diz.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/5360311834121790615?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/5360311834121790615?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/Qlw0l2040rA/mais-louco-e-quem-me-diz.html" title="Mais Louco é Quem Me Diz" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Diferente da maioria das pessoas que conhece, ela não gosta de ouvir música quando está triste. As músicas em dias de tristeza são como mãos tocando um machucado sem qualquer cuidado.Sentada na sala olha para seus discos; os de vinil, tão especiais a ela parecem desafiá-la: “ e aí, não vai encarar?” E ela, que ama música encolhe-se no canto do sofá lembrando a noite insone e suas reflexões sobre 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GOw3w8YlImbsZSOmk-UbQtUs8Fc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GOw3w8YlImbsZSOmk-UbQtUs8Fc/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/ajcX/~4/Qlw0l2040rA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/01/mais-louco-e-quem-me-diz.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQFSX8-fyp7ImA9WxBXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-5318958738539956137</id><published>2010-01-29T02:09:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T02:11:58.157-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-29T02:11:58.157-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="espelhos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fogo" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sopro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fracasso" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="brasa" /><title>Pessoas Que Não Quero Encontrar</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5318958738539956137/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/01/pessoas-que-nao-quero-encontrar.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/5318958738539956137?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/5318958738539956137?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/s6yfCzsO500/pessoas-que-nao-quero-encontrar.html" title="Pessoas Que Não Quero Encontrar" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Existem pessoas que são fagulhas; não compartilham, porque não sabem ou porque nada possuem para repartir. São como aqueles palitos de fósforo que ao serem riscados soltam pequenas faíscas que, em milésimo de segundo se apagam. Nunca serão chama, labareda, fogo, mas acomodam-se e usam o brilho e o calor  de outras que, sem medo de ousar, iluminam, aquecem e fazem de cada momento um espetáculo, 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G6RXNqsFH0x407pef9afGT8VHDk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G6RXNqsFH0x407pef9afGT8VHDk/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/ajcX/~4/s6yfCzsO500" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/01/pessoas-que-nao-quero-encontrar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EMSXk5fCp7ImA9WxBXFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809508103954707348.post-2696229010487777442</id><published>2010-01-26T17:48:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T17:54:48.724-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-26T17:54:48.724-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="troféus" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="experiência" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desinteressante" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="carreira" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fracasso" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="emprego" /><title>Sem Nada Para Contar</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2696229010487777442/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://liviawhere.blogspot.com/2010/01/sem-nada-para-contar.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2696229010487777442?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2809508103954707348/posts/default/2696229010487777442?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ajcX/~3/Nzslhxlrgyg/sem-nada-para-contar.html" title="Sem Nada Para Contar" /><author><name>Where</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08432831448480745943</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Ela olhava fixamente para a folha de papel em branco à sua frente enquanto girava a caneta “Bic” entre os dedos. Mais um fracasso para a sua coleção. Se fossem colocados em estantes, como se costuma fazer com troféus, faltaria prateleiras e espaço para elas onde morava.   Segundo as instruções da moça bem vestida cujo olhar, ela imaginava, fosse sempre de superioridade, ela deveria escrever 
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