<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UGR3g8fip7ImA9WhRRFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571</id><updated>2011-11-27T22:47:06.676-02:00</updated><category term="Vestibular" /><category term="(Des) Amores" /><category term="Feriado" /><category term="Quotidiano" /><category term="Distracção" /><category term="Mobilização e Ação Política (MAP)" /><category term="Versos" /><category term="Racismo" /><category term="D' Outras Linhas" /><category term="Teatro - Espetáculo" /><title>Entrelinhas</title><subtitle type="html">"O melhor ainda não foi escrito.
O melhor está nas entrelinhas."</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</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/jwWl" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/jwwl" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cHRng9eSp7ImA9WhZaFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-4149188644732882376</id><published>2011-06-30T22:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T22:50:37.661-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-30T22:50:37.661-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Versos" /><title>O Olhar Basta</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/4149188644732882376/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2011/06/o-olhar-basta.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4149188644732882376?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4149188644732882376?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/yDpLXhA-pSQ/o-olhar-basta.html" title="O Olhar Basta" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Em cada momento,
A cada tempo,
Ele escorre e jé é outro.
Nunca o mesmo.


O vento vem trazer-me a resposta
Que não foi dita.
O silêncio ainda preserva as estranhas
Palavras indescritíveis.


Ao espasmo do meu esmo
Decidi abrir-me.


Ao tocar
E o imaginável ver,
O estranho, presente estava.
Sim. Ali. Grande e forte.


Seus olhos incógnitos em mim,
Sua boca um riso ignoto
E todo o teu ser
Eu senti

&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-fR2T501Fd1DcGFtwpOmBtMQI2o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-fR2T501Fd1DcGFtwpOmBtMQI2o/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/-fR2T501Fd1DcGFtwpOmBtMQI2o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-fR2T501Fd1DcGFtwpOmBtMQI2o/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/jwWl/~4/yDpLXhA-pSQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2011/06/o-olhar-basta.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUACQHs4fyp7ImA9WhZaFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-4992297263391033105</id><published>2011-06-30T22:28:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T22:29:21.537-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-30T22:29:21.537-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Versos" /><title>Ah saudade...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/4992297263391033105/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2011/06/ah-saudade.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4992297263391033105?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4992297263391033105?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/a7_pPuxBuXA/ah-saudade.html" title="Ah saudade..." /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">E dormir teu sono
e sonhar com o vento
que te leva um beijo meu.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VJz6uRJRR42X69PVUuhdNGrqOE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VJz6uRJRR42X69PVUuhdNGrqOE/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/9VJz6uRJRR42X69PVUuhdNGrqOE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VJz6uRJRR42X69PVUuhdNGrqOE/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/jwWl/~4/a7_pPuxBuXA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2011/06/ah-saudade.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkACQHs-eyp7ImA9Wx5SGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-8499691827727407301</id><published>2010-08-15T02:06:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T02:06:01.553-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-15T02:06:01.553-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mobilização e Ação Política (MAP)" /><title>Medo avaliza abuso policial e gera "elite exterminadora"</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/8499691827727407301/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/08/medo-avaliza-abuso-policial-e-gera.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8499691827727407301?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8499691827727407301?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/7cRd1fGBv_M/medo-avaliza-abuso-policial-e-gera.html" title="Medo avaliza abuso policial e gera &quot;elite exterminadora&quot;" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Fernanda Mena, 23.2.04, Reportagem Local.Vera Malaguti- Para historiadora, paranóia da segurança e controle social são heranças da sociedade escravocrata
 No Brasil, exalta-se o talento negro na passarela do samba. Já fora da avenida, qualquer atitude de um negro parece ser considerada suspeita, quase ameaçadora, a ponto de causar o assassinato do dentista Flávio Ferreira Sant'Ana, 28, morto por 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K1-_7qk-1MWZFWArLe5-qeDziPU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K1-_7qk-1MWZFWArLe5-qeDziPU/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/K1-_7qk-1MWZFWArLe5-qeDziPU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K1-_7qk-1MWZFWArLe5-qeDziPU/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/jwWl/~4/7cRd1fGBv_M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/08/medo-avaliza-abuso-policial-e-gera.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8GSH8zeSp7ImA9Wx5SGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-4650115646249465788</id><published>2010-08-15T00:57:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T02:07:09.181-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-15T02:07:09.181-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="(Des) Amores" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Tua Varanda</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/4650115646249465788/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/08/tua-varanda.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4650115646249465788?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4650115646249465788?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/AYaRW7tcWQM/tua-varanda.html" title="Tua Varanda" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">E agora estava assim... Dera para rastejar os chinelos pela casa, com passos preguiçosos antes mesmo do sol principiar a aparecer no horizonte.Sentava-se na varanda a divagar, enquanto lentamente o sol nascia, alimentando seus pensamentos, iluminando a sua face, suscitando brilho no olhar. A brisa daquela manhã sempre lhe seria diferente das outras brisas, que vinham somente desvanecer as 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7xq93wAhvK5lMsSZdwyCFb426uQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7xq93wAhvK5lMsSZdwyCFb426uQ/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/7xq93wAhvK5lMsSZdwyCFb426uQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7xq93wAhvK5lMsSZdwyCFb426uQ/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/jwWl/~4/AYaRW7tcWQM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/08/tua-varanda.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUBR3Y4cSp7ImA9WxFaF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-3017340721525494604</id><published>2010-07-20T10:25:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T23:04:16.839-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-21T23:04:16.839-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Um vida sem amigos é uma vida vazia</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/3017340721525494604/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/07/reconhecamos-o-basico-um-vida-sem.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/3017340721525494604?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/3017340721525494604?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/BHfKAeg5Bt4/reconhecamos-o-basico-um-vida-sem.html" title="Um vida sem amigos é uma vida vazia" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/TEegZlfXwhI/AAAAAAAAAF8/Z5NIm14d0bI/s72-c/amigos.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">"Escolho meus amigos não pela pele ou outro arquétipo qualquer, mas pela pupila. Tem que ter brilho questionador e tonalidade inquietante. A mim não interessam os bons de espírito nem os maus de hábitos. Fico com aqueles que fazem de mim louco e santo. Deles não quero resposta, quero meu avesso. Que me tragam dúvidas e angústias e agüentem o que há de pior em mim. Para isso, só sendo louco. Quero
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WD1RClAKwNn6rGTiDfTq2PFhzQk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WD1RClAKwNn6rGTiDfTq2PFhzQk/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/WD1RClAKwNn6rGTiDfTq2PFhzQk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WD1RClAKwNn6rGTiDfTq2PFhzQk/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/jwWl/~4/BHfKAeg5Bt4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/07/reconhecamos-o-basico-um-vida-sem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8FSXozeyp7ImA9WxFaF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-2101781967375020232</id><published>2010-07-03T19:09:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T23:13:38.483-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-21T23:13:38.483-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Teatro - Espetáculo" /><title>Se Acaso Você Chegasse</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/2101781967375020232/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/07/se-acaso-voce-chegasse.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/2101781967375020232?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/2101781967375020232?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/h0TD-nsT0Io/se-acaso-voce-chegasse.html" title="Se Acaso Você Chegasse" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/TC-v66ul7VI/AAAAAAAAAF0/TClsBbMiadk/s72-c/Se+Acaso+UNEBo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">O público que não conseguiu assistir ao espetáculo “Se Acaso Você Chegasse” terá mais uma oportunidade. A montagem fará apresentações nos dias 08, 15 e 22 de Julho, às 20h, no Teatro Caetano Veloso (Cabula).Na história, uma mulher que nasceu para ser estrela. Desde cedo, botou a boca no mundo: para cantar, para mostrar que podia ser alguém, para se defender de tudo e de todos, em um mundo que 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/viOJT1rPh2s2NnBSgzxJJ0hIv4E/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/viOJT1rPh2s2NnBSgzxJJ0hIv4E/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/viOJT1rPh2s2NnBSgzxJJ0hIv4E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/viOJT1rPh2s2NnBSgzxJJ0hIv4E/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/jwWl/~4/h0TD-nsT0Io" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/07/se-acaso-voce-chegasse.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04FSXs6cCp7ImA9WxFbEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-6338393250644335653</id><published>2010-07-02T14:31:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:31:58.518-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-02T14:31:58.518-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Racismo" /><title>Mãe, nunca vi um anjo negro</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/6338393250644335653/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/07/mae-nunca-vi-um-anjo-negro.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6338393250644335653?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6338393250644335653?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/Z01k-n4K-Xw/mae-nunca-vi-um-anjo-negro.html" title="Mãe, nunca vi um anjo negro" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">





"Mãe, nunca vi um anjo negro.Não há anjos negros, mãe?Todos os anjos são brancos.Não há anjos como eu?Olha, todas as asas são brancas.Como os anjos que estão no céu.Mãe, eu nunca vou ter asas?Não há anjos como eu?Mãe, não há meninos negros anjos, mãe?Mãe, onde fica o nosso céu?Queria ser um anjo mãe.Não posso...Não há anjos como eu."(Poema da Encandescente)
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ll2KiCYZv8rvVVg8EV0ik4dMhA4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ll2KiCYZv8rvVVg8EV0ik4dMhA4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ll2KiCYZv8rvVVg8EV0ik4dMhA4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ll2KiCYZv8rvVVg8EV0ik4dMhA4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~4/Z01k-n4K-Xw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/07/mae-nunca-vi-um-anjo-negro.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4BSXo5fip7ImA9WxFUFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-5795192724428414353</id><published>2010-06-17T19:05:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T23:42:38.426-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-27T23:42:38.426-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Teatro - Espetáculo" /><title>Oficinas no Solar Boa Vista</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/5795192724428414353/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/06/oficinas-no-solar-boa-vista.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/5795192724428414353?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/5795192724428414353?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/XwO9VkTBYdA/oficinas-no-solar-boa-vista.html" title="Oficinas no Solar Boa Vista" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/TBqZS7mYC6I/AAAAAAAAAFk/EGuIOdz-bDY/s72-c/webflyer-1-ponto-de-cultura.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">


Estão abertas as inscrições para as oficinas do Ponto de Cultura Solar Boa Vista! São 16 oficinas em diversas áreas e ainda a criação de um núcleo de formação de atores com qualificação intensa. Haverá oficinas nos três turnos, movimentando o Parque Solar Boa Vista, e ao final delas, será montado um espetáculo, com direção de Fernando Guerreio, com a participação de algumas oficinas e a edição
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rPuTU_izdz9O4jddZ3T97ZdLppk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rPuTU_izdz9O4jddZ3T97ZdLppk/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/rPuTU_izdz9O4jddZ3T97ZdLppk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rPuTU_izdz9O4jddZ3T97ZdLppk/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/jwWl/~4/XwO9VkTBYdA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/06/oficinas-no-solar-boa-vista.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08MSH4yfSp7ImA9WxFWF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-8097522139072296147</id><published>2010-06-05T15:18:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T15:18:09.095-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-05T15:18:09.095-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Qualquer Coisa Tua...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/8097522139072296147/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/06/qualquer-coisa-tua.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8097522139072296147?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8097522139072296147?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/6iHjhPhqm9c/qualquer-coisa-tua.html" title="Qualquer Coisa Tua..." /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Hoje apetece-me um sorriso, um carinho, qualquer coisa tua...Hoje                      um sorriso                        qualquer                                                                 um carinho  qualquer                                                  apetece-me                                             qualquer coisa                           

&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nXY7XDwiQ-SBokHp0rnGEnYZ5wk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nXY7XDwiQ-SBokHp0rnGEnYZ5wk/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/nXY7XDwiQ-SBokHp0rnGEnYZ5wk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nXY7XDwiQ-SBokHp0rnGEnYZ5wk/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/jwWl/~4/6iHjhPhqm9c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/06/qualquer-coisa-tua.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08DSXg9eyp7ImA9Wx5SGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-6608383412371870849</id><published>2010-06-05T14:09:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T02:24:38.663-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-15T02:24:38.663-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="D' Outras Linhas" /><title>A Terceira Infância</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/6608383412371870849/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/06/terceira-infancia.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6608383412371870849?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6608383412371870849?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/Oq90xZW65CE/terceira-infancia.html" title="A Terceira Infância" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/TAqESW3iJMI/AAAAAAAAAFU/B6QV6bt2DIM/s72-c/arvore+menino.jpeg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Eu tenho um ermo enorme dentro do olho. Por motivo do ermo não fui um menino peralta. 
Agora tenho saudade do que não fui. Acho que o que faço agora é o que não pude fazer na infância. Faço outro tipo de peraltagem.
Quando eu era criança eu deveria pular muro do vizinho para catar goiaba. Mas não havia vizinho. Em vez de peraltagem eu fazia solidão. Brincava de fingir que pedra era lagarto. Que 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UHWK87OSrdzC21xkJd_iJ-8hugk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UHWK87OSrdzC21xkJd_iJ-8hugk/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/UHWK87OSrdzC21xkJd_iJ-8hugk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UHWK87OSrdzC21xkJd_iJ-8hugk/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/jwWl/~4/Oq90xZW65CE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/06/terceira-infancia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYAQnoycSp7ImA9WxFWEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-9187104188453351119</id><published>2010-05-30T15:07:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T15:12:23.499-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-30T15:12:23.499-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="(Des) Amores" /><title>Fraterno</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/9187104188453351119/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/fraterno.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9187104188453351119?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9187104188453351119?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/cGSRfF-HmgI/fraterno.html" title="Fraterno" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/TAKog1mwBwI/AAAAAAAAAFM/6G1Laron3n8/s72-c/abraco+prsente1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Já não sinto minhas pernas, meus braços, os beijos, teu perfume, meu corpo, seus abraços... Como temo a fenda no chão do nosso quarto, a água gelada na xícara do chá, o mel no fundo da porcelana fria, as sandálias ausentes aos pés da cama, nem isso que não sei...
Mas tenho saudade do batom no espelho embaçado, das poesias gaguejadas, da tua voz em meus ouvidos, do teu riso, dos olhos a me fitar, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GpjBXR1nqD3_aNsgmHvwY9xT2_4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GpjBXR1nqD3_aNsgmHvwY9xT2_4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GpjBXR1nqD3_aNsgmHvwY9xT2_4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GpjBXR1nqD3_aNsgmHvwY9xT2_4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~4/cGSRfF-HmgI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/fraterno.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUACR38zeCp7ImA9WxFWEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-6565670588263057397</id><published>2010-05-30T14:54:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T15:22:46.180-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-30T15:22:46.180-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Versos" /><title>Iá</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/6565670588263057397/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/ia.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6565670588263057397?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6565670588263057397?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/J0sdllm2sGE/ia.html" title="Iá" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
E eu ia.Eu ia ande queria, aonde não podia, aonde deveria...Eu ia porque ria, porque lia, porque corria, porque queria, porque devia...E minha vida?!Quem podia?!Eu lia, devia, deveria, queria, corria, ria, só ia...

&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/T5wIIB37sV08H4VmVTM_mNy1TOQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/T5wIIB37sV08H4VmVTM_mNy1TOQ/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/T5wIIB37sV08H4VmVTM_mNy1TOQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/T5wIIB37sV08H4VmVTM_mNy1TOQ/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/jwWl/~4/J0sdllm2sGE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/ia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UBQHc8fyp7ImA9WxFWEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-978555120614892663</id><published>2010-05-30T14:40:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T14:40:51.977-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-30T14:40:51.977-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Perder-se também é caminho</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/978555120614892663/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/perder-se-tambem-e-caminho.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/978555120614892663?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/978555120614892663?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/FXgYGCffM2s/perder-se-tambem-e-caminho.html" title="Perder-se também é caminho" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Perder-se: caminhoPerder        caminho             se   caminhoPerde-se                   caminho.   
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b378zh9OckZae0kFkXJAYOrPQCk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b378zh9OckZae0kFkXJAYOrPQCk/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/b378zh9OckZae0kFkXJAYOrPQCk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b378zh9OckZae0kFkXJAYOrPQCk/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/jwWl/~4/FXgYGCffM2s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/perder-se-tambem-e-caminho.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4CRX45eyp7ImA9WxFXFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-557880565253220953</id><published>2010-05-20T22:32:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T22:56:04.023-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-20T22:56:04.023-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vestibular" /><title>Isenção de Taxa de Inscrição</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/557880565253220953/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/isencao-de-taxa-de-inscricao.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/557880565253220953?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/557880565253220953?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/dub-YImCKlg/isencao-de-taxa-de-inscricao.html" title="Isenção de Taxa de Inscrição" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">
A UFBA (Universidade Federal da Bahia) aceita os pedidos de isenção de taxa para o processo seletivo 2011 até o dia 27 de maio. Os interessados devem se inscrever pela internet e imprimir o boleto de pagamento, no valor de R$ 5. 
O candidato que não tem acesso a internet, deverá procurar um dos postos de atendimento: 

Salvador
SSOA - Serviço de Seleção, Orientação e Avaliação
Rua Dr. Augusto 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BTRl9ScMggs12U5EUFxhBfIvbck/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BTRl9ScMggs12U5EUFxhBfIvbck/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/BTRl9ScMggs12U5EUFxhBfIvbck/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BTRl9ScMggs12U5EUFxhBfIvbck/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/jwWl/~4/dub-YImCKlg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/isencao-de-taxa-de-inscricao.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EHRnw5cSp7ImA9Wx5TEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-4595059649537414793</id><published>2010-05-14T12:22:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T11:07:17.229-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-27T11:07:17.229-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="(Des) Amores" /><title>Secreto...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/4595059649537414793/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/p-oderiamos-alem-que-somos-no-entanto.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4595059649537414793?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4595059649537414793?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/nxy7UAHRxko/p-oderiamos-alem-que-somos-no-entanto.html" title="Secreto..." /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Poderíamos ser além do que somos, no entanto, ultrapassamos. Percebemos que ter sido namorados, não seria intenso e duradouro. Somo felizes com o que temos e conquistamos. Nossas conversas, sempre valorosas e reveladoras, no faz perceber quanta falta faríamos na vida do outro. Reconhecer de que o fim não está tão longe assim, nos aproximar mais, nos convida a perceber a importância de nós em 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mAjNW9wVnp0MnVw9nhwrMTqlwwI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mAjNW9wVnp0MnVw9nhwrMTqlwwI/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/mAjNW9wVnp0MnVw9nhwrMTqlwwI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mAjNW9wVnp0MnVw9nhwrMTqlwwI/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/jwWl/~4/nxy7UAHRxko" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/05/p-oderiamos-alem-que-somos-no-entanto.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIDSHk9cSp7ImA9WxFQGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-1062564831964480394</id><published>2010-04-25T12:06:00.093-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T12:22:59.769-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-14T12:22:59.769-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Parabéns!!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/1062564831964480394/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/parabens.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/1062564831964480394?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/1062564831964480394?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/Tw1vp3vwHv8/parabens.html" title="Parabéns!!" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S9mgdug1BVI/AAAAAAAAAFE/jHRxzRhntvU/s72-c/aniversario.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">

No fim da tarde outonal, quando o sol se punha avermelhando o azul do céu, a lua brindava  com estrelas, prateando e iluminandoa noite, anunciando minha chegada.Após nove meses enclausurada, cheguei ao mundo!...  "Há um tempo em que é preciso abandonar as roupas usadas, que já tem a forma do nosso corpo, e esquecer os nossos caminhos, que nos levam sempre aos mesmos lugares. É o tempo da 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6qD9Ytey2TGxkh3Eg0ZtEdpVymE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6qD9Ytey2TGxkh3Eg0ZtEdpVymE/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/6qD9Ytey2TGxkh3Eg0ZtEdpVymE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6qD9Ytey2TGxkh3Eg0ZtEdpVymE/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/jwWl/~4/Tw1vp3vwHv8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/parabens.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IFQX8zeip7ImA9Wx5SGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-9148948497833334329</id><published>2010-04-21T14:23:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T02:18:30.182-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-15T02:18:30.182-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="D' Outras Linhas" /><title>Ai Gramática. Ai, Vida</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/9148948497833334329/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/ai-gramatica-ai-vida.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9148948497833334329?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9148948497833334329?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/I-2og9akCLU/ai-gramatica-ai-vida.html" title="Ai Gramática. Ai, Vida" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">[...]
INFÂNCIA: A PERMANENTE EXCLAMAÇÃO
Nasceu! É um menino! Que grande! E como chora! Claro, quem não chora não mama! Me dá! É Meu![...]

A PUBERDADE: A TRAVESSIA (OU O TRAVESSÃO)[...]  -O que eu acho, Jorge-não sei se tu também achas-o que eu acho-porque a gente sempre acha muitas coisas-o que eu acho-não sei-tu és irmão dela-mas o que eu estive pensando-pode ser bobagem-mas será que não é de a
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/imW7ScHdridP5vWGc8FZs3c5ZGY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/imW7ScHdridP5vWGc8FZs3c5ZGY/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/imW7ScHdridP5vWGc8FZs3c5ZGY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/imW7ScHdridP5vWGc8FZs3c5ZGY/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/jwWl/~4/I-2og9akCLU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/ai-gramatica-ai-vida.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEASX07eyp7ImA9WxFSGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-4331052352132608087</id><published>2010-04-21T12:26:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T12:27:28.303-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-21T12:27:28.303-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Brincando com a Chuva</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/4331052352132608087/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/presente-da-infancia.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4331052352132608087?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/4331052352132608087?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/TeCTpjDvKfc/presente-da-infancia.html" title="Brincando com a Chuva" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Ainda na cama abri os olhos; o corpo gélido; lá fora, a chuva brincava com o vento e bailava as árvores. Sentei na cama. Ainda sonolenta, fui aos poucos invadida por uma enorme disposição.O chão estava frio, procurei meus chinelos e calcei os do meu irmão. Tomei um café doce com leite de vaca morno, e comi torradas com banana. O gosto de hortelã na língua oferecia um frescor pra manhã chuvosa. 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2UK8k4ONznex-DZFDAZpuyuO--8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2UK8k4ONznex-DZFDAZpuyuO--8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2UK8k4ONznex-DZFDAZpuyuO--8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2UK8k4ONznex-DZFDAZpuyuO--8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~4/TeCTpjDvKfc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/presente-da-infancia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UBSXkzfip7ImA9WxFSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-6364732456821641949</id><published>2010-04-20T17:59:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T11:14:18.786-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-21T11:14:18.786-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Versos" /><title>Retrato</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/6364732456821641949/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/retrato.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6364732456821641949?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6364732456821641949?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/J61KY2tNjTA/retrato.html" title="Retrato" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Eu não tinha este rosto de hoje,assim calmo, assim triste, assim magro,nem estes olhos tão vazios,nem o lábio amargo.Eu não tinha estas mãos sem força,tão paradas e frias e mortes;eu não tinha este coraçãoque nem se mostra.eu não dei por esta mudança,tão simples, tão certa, tão fácil: - Em que espelho ficou perdidaa minha face?(Cecília Meireles)
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iuXNFXTpmpToXQNWjP2R4mACEwk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iuXNFXTpmpToXQNWjP2R4mACEwk/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/iuXNFXTpmpToXQNWjP2R4mACEwk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iuXNFXTpmpToXQNWjP2R4mACEwk/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/jwWl/~4/J61KY2tNjTA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/retrato.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4CSXczeip7ImA9WxFaF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-9138362281741873534</id><published>2010-04-18T16:57:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T23:16:08.982-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-21T23:16:08.982-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Teatro - Espetáculo" /><title>Se Acaso Você Chegasse</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/9138362281741873534/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/se-acaso-voce-chegasse.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9138362281741873534?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9138362281741873534?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/PqdnDEXmG8o/se-acaso-voce-chegasse.html" title="Se Acaso Você Chegasse" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S8tcvc4MH5I/AAAAAAAAAE8/AJMX_T45ZBM/s72-c/Se+acaso+voc%C3%AA+chegasse.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">A visceral cantora Elza Soares, foi o tema escolhido pela Arte sintonia Companhia de Teatro, para a montagem de "Se Acaso Você Chegasse", espetáculo musical inspirado na vida dessa filha de operário e lavadeira que encanta o Brasil desde os anos 60. A peça constrói um mosaico de acontecimentos da biografia de Elza Soares, entrecortada por canções do seu repertório, interpretados pela atrizes da 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mhvA2PU_Bd2g5lnihJieYCKgLxo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mhvA2PU_Bd2g5lnihJieYCKgLxo/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/mhvA2PU_Bd2g5lnihJieYCKgLxo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mhvA2PU_Bd2g5lnihJieYCKgLxo/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/jwWl/~4/PqdnDEXmG8o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/04/se-acaso-voce-chegasse.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YHSHsyeSp7ImA9WxBbFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-8774205410876285463</id><published>2010-03-15T15:52:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T15:52:19.591-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-15T15:52:19.591-03:00</app:edited><title>Carnaval</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/8774205410876285463/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/03/carnaval.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8774205410876285463?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8774205410876285463?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/Ftsk8FQgTJE/carnaval.html" title="Carnaval" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S559-i7rr6I/AAAAAAAAAE0/bH9PSlRdXuA/s72-c/mascara+casal.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
   Quanto riso, ah, quanta alegria Mais de mil palhaços no salão O Arlequim está chorando pelo amor da Colombina No meio da multidão Foi bom te ver outra vez Ta fazendo um ano Foi o carnaval que passou Eu sou aquele Pierrot Que te abraçou e te beijou meu amor A mesma máscara negra que esconde seu rosto Eu quero matar a saudade Vou beijar-te agora Não me leve a mal, Hoje é carnaval
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4JoZST_C0q4j7P6gVHs4i9QoBBQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4JoZST_C0q4j7P6gVHs4i9QoBBQ/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/4JoZST_C0q4j7P6gVHs4i9QoBBQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4JoZST_C0q4j7P6gVHs4i9QoBBQ/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/jwWl/~4/Ftsk8FQgTJE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/03/carnaval.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YNQH4yeSp7ImA9WxFSF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-9075564748880202835</id><published>2010-03-15T15:23:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T12:59:51.091-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-20T12:59:51.091-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotidiano" /><title>Tensão Pré-ocupação (TPO)</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/9075564748880202835/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/03/tenho-andado-demasiadamente-pensativa-e.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9075564748880202835?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/9075564748880202835?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/50FHR-43RLw/tenho-andado-demasiadamente-pensativa-e.html" title="Tensão Pré-ocupação (TPO)" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S553c5S2KaI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Hehl1NnYT9c/s72-c/crescer.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Tenho andado demasiadamente pensativa, amedrontada e ansiosa, pelas "novas ocupações" que ão de chegar. Não é que não às queira - pelo contrario, quero muito - mas receio, tenho medo da forma que essas "novas ocupações" irão tomar, ao instalar-se na dinâmica do tempo em que vivo!As responsabilidades aumentam, a dedicação se faz mais que contentamento.   O segundo dente siso já começa a 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VzKkzkEJVnJXU0BFa3f_mcmjubM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VzKkzkEJVnJXU0BFa3f_mcmjubM/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/VzKkzkEJVnJXU0BFa3f_mcmjubM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VzKkzkEJVnJXU0BFa3f_mcmjubM/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/jwWl/~4/50FHR-43RLw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/03/tenho-andado-demasiadamente-pensativa-e.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ADSXc5fyp7ImA9WxFaF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-8771933804990623662</id><published>2010-02-26T11:50:00.012-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T23:29:38.927-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-21T23:29:38.927-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Teatro - Espetáculo" /><title>Pedaço de Mim</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/8771933804990623662/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/02/pedaco-de-mim-o-musical-baseado-na-obra.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8771933804990623662?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/8771933804990623662?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/Fuq1rkxHqlU/pedaco-de-mim-o-musical-baseado-na-obra.html" title="Pedaço de Mim" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4fiT7nPANI/AAAAAAAAAEU/03h8EpTmHEY/s72-c/peda%C3%A7os01.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">O musical baseado na obra de Chico Buarque tem direção musical e arranjos de Marcelo Issa, que dá às canções uma nova roupagem.O roteiro e a direção são de Antônio Marques.
Totalmente construído a partir de composições e fragmentos das obras teatrais de Chico Buarque, o musical busca captar toda a teatralidade das suas obras, levando ao palco todas as nuances dos relacionamentos amorosos: a magia
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3Q1fUhctsKof8ZfrtXmRBW8EGhE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3Q1fUhctsKof8ZfrtXmRBW8EGhE/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/3Q1fUhctsKof8ZfrtXmRBW8EGhE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3Q1fUhctsKof8ZfrtXmRBW8EGhE/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/jwWl/~4/Fuq1rkxHqlU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/02/pedaco-de-mim-o-musical-baseado-na-obra.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AMRn8_fip7ImA9WxFSFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-6229389836597664738</id><published>2010-02-23T11:28:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T17:16:27.146-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-18T17:16:27.146-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Distracção" /><title>I Tempo Inquieto</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/6229389836597664738/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/02/um-querido-que-partiu-para-cidade.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6229389836597664738?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/6229389836597664738?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/pP4c11243Po/um-querido-que-partiu-para-cidade.html" title="I Tempo Inquieto" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Um querido que partiu para a cidade maravilhosa; a certeza de que jamais riria com os amigos  do colégio no ano seguinte na sombra do quiosque, tendo 18 aninhos; a  despedida reflexiva com as mandalas e a planta dos desejos futuros, com os jovens repórteres mobilizadores da manhã; as luzes se fechando aos aplausos  emocionados da platéia pedindo bis; o sonho se arrastando até as dez horas da  
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/y5Zug-HGRUSMqNBNCxwHt0t5nis/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/y5Zug-HGRUSMqNBNCxwHt0t5nis/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/y5Zug-HGRUSMqNBNCxwHt0t5nis/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/y5Zug-HGRUSMqNBNCxwHt0t5nis/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/jwWl/~4/pP4c11243Po" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/02/um-querido-que-partiu-para-cidade.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UDSH0zeip7ImA9WxFSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3135851906836020571.post-1234457793781802062</id><published>2010-02-22T16:20:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T11:14:39.382-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-21T11:14:39.382-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Versos" /><title>Poesia</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/feeds/1234457793781802062/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/02/doutras-linhas.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/1234457793781802062?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3135851906836020571/posts/default/1234457793781802062?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/jwWl/~3/gUHoZxkJZ5A/doutras-linhas.html" title="Poesia" /><author><name>.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14592294617013464215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qqL1nDvWqBo/S4PdEt7uBkI/AAAAAAAAADs/6J51uTvwe7Q/S220/freit%C3%A1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Poesia, minha tia, ilumine as certezas dos homens os tons de minhas palavras. É que que arrisco a prosa mesmo com balas atravessando os fonemas. É o verbo, aquele que é maior que o seu tamanho, que diz, faz e acontece. Aqui ele cambaleia baleado. Dito por bocas sem dentes nos conchavos de becos, nas decisões de morte. A areia move-se nos fundos dos mares. A ausência de sol escurece mesmo as matas
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cRUkQ4l-4YkEKd0NKIyYqUCpNWE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cRUkQ4l-4YkEKd0NKIyYqUCpNWE/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/cRUkQ4l-4YkEKd0NKIyYqUCpNWE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cRUkQ4l-4YkEKd0NKIyYqUCpNWE/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/jwWl/~4/gUHoZxkJZ5A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://retratotransfigurado.blogspot.com/2010/02/doutras-linhas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

