<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493</id><updated>2011-08-04T00:07:18.833-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing unusual, nothing strange.</title><subtitle type='html'>Close to nothing at all. The same old scenario, the same old rain, and there's no explosions here.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-2318229607876895838</id><published>2009-08-01T21:25:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T21:50:14.999-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Turbilhão de sonhos perdidos.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SnTioopgiNI/AAAAAAAAAGc/bHevA580ZRg/s1600-h/as-time-goes-by.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SnTioopgiNI/AAAAAAAAAGc/bHevA580ZRg/s400/as-time-goes-by.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365162243839264978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"But you&lt;br /&gt;You're not allowed&lt;br /&gt;You're uninvited&lt;br /&gt;An unfortunate slight"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em relação à que? Ao mundo, sim.&lt;br /&gt;Sonhar é complicado. É se iludir sem garantia. É burrice.&lt;br /&gt;Sabe quando você assiste a um clipe de música onde alguém fica parado enquanto o mundo passa muito rápido ao redor? Pois é, eu não sei exatamente o que eles querem passar com isso, mas pra mim é uma idéia crua e sem enigmas. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;O mundo passa e te deixa esquecido&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Em meio a toda essa sujeira que nos cerca, nada mais fácil que nor iludirmos com um mundo "ideal", com pessoas e lugares "ideais", com um mundo que faça sentido só pra nós. Mas até quando é válido ficar agarrado a essa corda? Será que ela aguenta o peso da nossa consciência?&lt;br /&gt;Cada um tem seu próprio mundo ideal, mas ninguém consegue trazer para este mundo um pedaço do sonho. Temos todos sonhos distintos, mas não seria bom trazermos um pedacinho dele e fundir no exterior deste mundo atual?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Este post não faz muito sentido, mas o meu sentido, por mim é entendido.&lt;br /&gt;Eu vejo todos os dias o mundo passando rápido, e tento pular, agarrar uma mão, pra tentar pegar carona e ir junto com o tempo, e seguir.&lt;br /&gt;Tava precisando botar pra fora.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-2318229607876895838?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/2318229607876895838/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=2318229607876895838' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/2318229607876895838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/2318229607876895838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2009/08/turbilhao-de-sonhos-perdidos.html' title='Turbilhão de sonhos perdidos.'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SnTioopgiNI/AAAAAAAAAGc/bHevA580ZRg/s72-c/as-time-goes-by.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-1490441429676418004</id><published>2009-06-16T00:14:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T00:34:34.243-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Idéias alheias.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcSbcfGGgI/AAAAAAAAAFk/V9L5avnxGiI/s1600-h/talking_basics.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 313px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcSbcfGGgI/AAAAAAAAAFk/V9L5avnxGiI/s400/talking_basics.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347763345238137346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Engraçado como todo o mundo sempre tem uma opinião sobre nossas vidas, não é?&lt;br /&gt;Sempre tem alguém que sabe o que nos é aconselhável, o melhor caminho para seguir. Mas quem além de mim, pra saber que decisão tomar? Quem pode saber melhor que eu próprio o que se passa dentro de mim?&lt;br /&gt;Todo o mundo, lapidado na verdade, imaculado em atitudes, pode sempre nos dizer o que fazer, o próximo passo. Claro que sim, esse mundo nunca errou, nunca fez nada que lhe tirasse o direito de opinar deliberadamente, mesmo que pelas costas, sobre outro alguém.&lt;br /&gt;Uma coisa que eu aprendi é que cada pessoa tem sua essência, tão única, íntima,  que ninguém consegue mudar ou ferir.&lt;br /&gt;Nunca me toquei que fazia parte desse mundo perfeito, de idéias alheias perfeitas, pessoas perfeitas.&lt;br /&gt;Quero, depois disso, olhar mais pro espelho e julgar somente a mim, pois sou eu o único que tem esse direito, e, não por menos, esse dever.&lt;br /&gt;Busco dentro de mim, a partir de agora, as respostas para as minhas perguntas, e dessa energia, absorvo o que me convém, e somente o que me convém.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-1490441429676418004?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/1490441429676418004/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=1490441429676418004' title='9 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/1490441429676418004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/1490441429676418004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2009/06/ideias-alheias.html' title='Idéias alheias.'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcSbcfGGgI/AAAAAAAAAFk/V9L5avnxGiI/s72-c/talking_basics.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-1398199413808288057</id><published>2009-05-23T11:12:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T11:21:43.540-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Isso é muito digno!</title><content type='html'>Copiado do Blog da Carpa. &lt;a href="http://prisantos.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;http://prisantos.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://prisantos.blogspot.com/2009/05/presos-passos-qual-e-o-fio.html"&gt;presos, passos, o fio .&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;três passos .&lt;br /&gt;no primeiro eu te observo .&lt;br /&gt;no segundo eu chego mais perto .&lt;br /&gt;no terceiro eu te agarro pelo pescoço e te solto, como há de ser .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;três passos .&lt;br /&gt;no primeiro você sente saudade .&lt;br /&gt;no segundo você fecha os olhos e vê que é verdade .&lt;br /&gt;no terceiro me abraça tão forte e eu te deixo ficar, pra variar ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tão forte que seu cheiro ficou preso no meu cabelo .&lt;br /&gt;tão forte é sua falta presa no meu peito .&lt;br /&gt;tão seu é esse meu jeito de te querer por perto .&lt;br /&gt;tão presos nesse caminho que o destino nos deu .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dentro de você eu nunca estive presa .&lt;br /&gt;e permaneci talvez pq mereci ficar&lt;br /&gt;e ficarei enquanto me deixar ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dentro de mim eu quis desesperadamente te prender&lt;br /&gt;eu tinha medo de te perder&lt;br /&gt;não entendia seu jeito de ser livre&lt;br /&gt;tão dentro de mim, hoje você vive&lt;br /&gt;solto sem perceber .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;presos a nós mesmos, no simples querer, tentando por a culpa no que era para ser .&lt;br /&gt;te faço um carinho e você me traz um café ...&lt;br /&gt;se vão falar ? se querem saber ?&lt;br /&gt;eu não pedi pra eles terem fé .&lt;br /&gt;e se me chatear ? e se eu quiser chorar ?&lt;br /&gt;deixa ser como é .e se eu pedir ? e se você partir ?&lt;br /&gt;não tem porque ...&lt;br /&gt;infinitamente ...&lt;br /&gt;nada existe como eu e você .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-1398199413808288057?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/1398199413808288057/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=1398199413808288057' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/1398199413808288057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/1398199413808288057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2009/05/isso-e-muito-digno.html' title='Isso é muito digno!'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-5681046070314329056</id><published>2009-05-13T12:26:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T19:03:47.684-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations? Lots and lots!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Quem tem perguntas agora sou eu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;É ruim se sentir entorpecido, vazio.Sim, eu trabalho, saio, falo, ando, penso (Countless times more than i should), e mesmo assim parece que o tempo não anda.Outro dia, voltando pra casa, lembrei que tinha colocado uma música do Angra no celular, e poxa, há quanto tempo eu não ouvia à minha banda favorita da adolescência!? Tinha colocado uma música chamada "Bleeding Heart", e o início da segunda parte da música é "why's the clock even running, if my world isn't turning?", WOW, exatamente como eu me sinto.Onde eu vou parar, o que vou conseguir, eu nem faço idéia. Eu SEI que não estou progredindo.Não tenho mais vontade ou disposição pra fazer coisas que fazia antes, pra frequentar lugares que antes eram de hábito.Sabe aquela vontade de conquistar o mundo? Não me deixa deitar e pensar que o amanhã aqui vai ser melhor, pois eu sei que não é isso que me atrai.Lembra quando a gente fazia planos? Lembra de quando fizemos promessas? Sei muito bem que muitos planos e juras foram ditas pela boca da juventude, irresponsável e inconsequente, iludida e sonhadora. Mas guardo essas ilusões e ainda as alimento, não tenho a coragem pra sufocar tais aspirações.O que vai ser de mim quando cair de joelhos por não mais suportar o fardo pesado de não ser NADA?Ficou em mim essa carga emocional com pólos positivos e negativos, e eu tenho que conviver com ambos.And so it is...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-5681046070314329056?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/5681046070314329056/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=5681046070314329056' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/5681046070314329056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/5681046070314329056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2009/05/what.html' title='Expectations? Lots and lots!'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-6305348501294325598</id><published>2009-02-02T01:24:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T01:30:20.371-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Crônicas de um garoto perdido.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SYZovgdCvQI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9FTryrGl0-E/s1600-h/confused___by_mushy_pea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 377px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SYZovgdCvQI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9FTryrGl0-E/s400/confused___by_mushy_pea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298037177022856450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E tudo que ele queria era sumir.&lt;br /&gt;Sumir de tudo e de todos, pra evitar contato com o mundo, com a vida em geral. Isso não foi possível, não o deixaram em paz, nem quando ele foi grosso, estúpido, mesquinho. Nem quando ele tentou afastar os amigos de si próprio. Não o deixaram pois o amavam, é isso que ele pensa, e esse amor, esse sentimento de amizade, o tal do companheirismo, fizeram com que ele percebesse que não é preciso se isolar pra conseguir lutar contra os problemas mais íntimos, e que com ajuda, as vezes é ainda mais fácil, ou menos complicado, o que couber melhor.&lt;br /&gt;E assim ele voltou a se socializar, mesmo que não completamente recuperado, mesmo que ainda tenha seus demônios, afinal todo mundo tem os seus.&lt;br /&gt;Ele é muito grato por ter tais amigos, que o apoiaram e quiseram sua presença mesmo quando ele não merecia.&lt;br /&gt;Ele os ama, como irmãos, como confidentes, como curadores do seu museu interior.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-6305348501294325598?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/6305348501294325598/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=6305348501294325598' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/6305348501294325598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/6305348501294325598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2009/02/cronicas-de-um-garoto-perdido.html' title='Crônicas de um garoto perdido.'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SYZovgdCvQI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9FTryrGl0-E/s72-c/confused___by_mushy_pea.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-7741643596424340206</id><published>2008-10-09T18:44:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T18:54:01.220-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Em minha própria lua nova.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO57Xl1X47I/AAAAAAAAADE/xPPiBBQRz6o/s1600-h/Relogio.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO57Xl1X47I/AAAAAAAAADE/xPPiBBQRz6o/s400/Relogio.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255273460411130802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;O tempo passa. Mesmo quando isso parece impossível. Mesmo&lt;br /&gt;quando cada tique do relógio faz sua cabeça doer como se fosse um&lt;br /&gt;fluxo de sangue passando por uma ferida.&lt;br /&gt;  Ele passa desigual, em estranhos solavancos e levando a calmaria&lt;br /&gt;embora, mas ele passa. Mesmo pra mim.&lt;br /&gt;  Estou melhor, muito melhor. Ainda tenho muita coisa na cabeça,&lt;br /&gt;mas já consigo dormir bem, agora só fico duas horas pensando.&lt;br /&gt;  Preferia trabalhar em full time, pra ficar mais tempo ocupado,&lt;br /&gt;mas part time já é um começo right? Fico "numb" só no meio da&lt;br /&gt;semana, o que ainda é muito irritante.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-7741643596424340206?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/7741643596424340206/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=7741643596424340206' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7741643596424340206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7741643596424340206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2008/10/em-minha-prpria-lua-nova.html' title='Em minha própria lua nova.'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO57Xl1X47I/AAAAAAAAADE/xPPiBBQRz6o/s72-c/Relogio.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-279478181365142682</id><published>2008-09-23T00:41:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T01:09:48.245-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Amie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Eu sempre soube que um dia precisaria postar essa letra, que ela iria transparecer o que eu estou sentindo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;É minha música favorita do Damien Rice. Acho que nada mais pra dizer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;pre  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SNhqVoMlnTI/AAAAAAAAAC8/xdZEZBiEFcQ/s1600-h/muro_01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SNhqVoMlnTI/AAAAAAAAAC8/xdZEZBiEFcQ/s400/muro_01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249062285500325170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Nothing unusual, nothing strange&lt;br /&gt;Close to nothing at all&lt;br /&gt;The same old scenario, the same old rain&lt;br /&gt;And there's no explosions here&lt;br /&gt;Then something unusual, something strange&lt;br /&gt;Comes from nothing at all&lt;br /&gt;I saw a spaceship fly by your window&lt;br /&gt;Did you see it disappear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amie come sit on my wall&lt;br /&gt;And read me the story of O&lt;br /&gt;And tell it like you still believe&lt;br /&gt;That the end of the century&lt;br /&gt;Brings a change for you and me&lt;br /&gt;Nothing unusual, nothing's changed&lt;br /&gt;Just a little older that's all&lt;br /&gt;You know when you've found it,&lt;br /&gt;There's something I've learned&lt;br /&gt;'Cause you feel it when they take it away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something unusual, something strange&lt;br /&gt;Comes from nothing at all&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not a miracle&lt;br /&gt;And you're not a saint&lt;br /&gt;Just another soldier&lt;br /&gt;On the road to nowhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amie come sit on my wall&lt;br /&gt;And read me the story of O&lt;br /&gt;And tell it like you still believe&lt;br /&gt;That the end of the century&lt;br /&gt;Brings a change for you and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Amie come sit on my wall&lt;br /&gt;And read me the story of O&lt;br /&gt;And tell it like you still believe&lt;br /&gt;That the end of the century&lt;br /&gt;Brings a change for you and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-279478181365142682?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/279478181365142682/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=279478181365142682' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/279478181365142682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/279478181365142682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2008/09/amie.html' title='Amie'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SNhqVoMlnTI/AAAAAAAAAC8/xdZEZBiEFcQ/s72-c/muro_01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-40428104033751865</id><published>2008-03-19T02:08:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T19:11:49.123-03:00</updated><title type='text'>We're happy together.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO6BmQcHabI/AAAAAAAAADU/MuTbCn7CF5I/s1600-h/image.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO6BmQcHabI/AAAAAAAAADU/MuTbCn7CF5I/s400/image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255280309435853234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O final de semana estava arruinado, sexta sem fazer nada, sábado motocross no pq. Ecológico(?), e domingo show do Forfun(?). Quando de repente aparece a idéia: vamos pra chácara! E fomos, sem nada pra fazer, sem lugar aberto pra comprar nada, friiiio, mas fomos. Tinha a gente, que é o que realmente importa, não importa onde, quando, como, se estivermos junos, tudo fica bem.&lt;br /&gt;Foi muito bom, teve porradinha, porradinha na galinha (pra poucos) , piscina no frio, banho quente e coletivo, mais piscina, depois mais banho quente coletivo. Quem não foi perdeu, perdeu de ver a barata na Prika, perdeu de comer farofa pura, de cuspir sorvete pra cima e pegar denovo uahauhaua...&lt;br /&gt;Bom, finalizando, o final de semana terminou MUITO BEM! Valeu povo, vcs são TUDO!&lt;br /&gt;Pirikita, Gaba, Upper e Zuh,&lt;br /&gt;Love u guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-40428104033751865?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/40428104033751865/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=40428104033751865' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/40428104033751865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/40428104033751865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2008/03/were-happy-together.html' title='We&apos;re happy together.'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO6BmQcHabI/AAAAAAAAADU/MuTbCn7CF5I/s72-c/image.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-7023726194492202077</id><published>2008-03-12T02:34:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T17:15:22.998-03:00</updated><title type='text'>What kinda guy?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/R9dxvwdaspI/AAAAAAAAABY/YropHw8Z-9E/s1600-h/1233.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/R9dxvwdaspI/AAAAAAAAABY/YropHw8Z-9E/s200/1233.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176731361961751186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know either... all i know is what i want, where i want to go, where i want to be. But WHAT wants to go, WHAT wants to be? Maybe it's insane to think about but i really wanna know myself better. Does anyone know how to?&lt;br /&gt;Not very original, well, not original at all but, i just feel like something is missing, and i have no idea of what it is! Is it normal?&lt;br /&gt;I'll stop finishing phrases with another questions, OKAY? kiddin'.&lt;br /&gt;Holy shit, i feel so weird now lol, such a loser. Well that's me, the big loser, the horrible person, the immature guy.&lt;br /&gt;God, i'll stop complaining and find something to do...maybe watch Closer over and over again!&lt;br /&gt;See you around guys, good bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-7023726194492202077?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/7023726194492202077/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=7023726194492202077' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7023726194492202077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7023726194492202077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-kinda-guy.html' title='What kinda guy?'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/R9dxvwdaspI/AAAAAAAAABY/YropHw8Z-9E/s72-c/1233.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-4480076849516376665</id><published>2008-02-11T19:54:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T20:14:02.491-02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still in love with her...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/R7DEZKEd_tI/AAAAAAAAABA/FRboYbQl3YA/s1600-h/732257ri5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/R7DEZKEd_tI/AAAAAAAAABA/FRboYbQl3YA/s320/732257ri5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165844709072830162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes i am, what's the big deal?&lt;br /&gt;What if she makes mistakes? Britney does better...&lt;br /&gt;I can't get enough of Back To Black...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cheated myself&lt;br /&gt;Like i knew i would&lt;br /&gt;I told ya, I was troubled&lt;br /&gt;You know that i'm no good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go Amy, go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's it, boring day, boring town...&lt;br /&gt;Can't wait for next month!&lt;br /&gt;No dramatic posts today right? I'm done with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long, goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-4480076849516376665?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/4480076849516376665/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=4480076849516376665' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/4480076849516376665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/4480076849516376665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-still-in-love-with-her.html' title='I&apos;m still in love with her...'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/R7DEZKEd_tI/AAAAAAAAABA/FRboYbQl3YA/s72-c/732257ri5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-7761944119782139792</id><published>2008-02-03T06:07:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T19:16:26.892-03:00</updated><title type='text'>"Confidence Cohen, confidence."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO6CpSmQyHI/AAAAAAAAADc/uUWD_2e8oM8/s1600-h/anna%27s+gone2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO6CpSmQyHI/AAAAAAAAADc/uUWD_2e8oM8/s400/anna%27s+gone2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255281461066516594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi there, again! Wow almost 1 month wihout posting anything, a lot of things happened...some good, some not...Anyway!&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to get a little confidence, confidence to do something i need to do... a great change in my life, maybe the biggest one, i guess.&lt;br /&gt;I'm meeting new people, new places, new spirit states... i know this is good for me, like the song says: "there's a hole in my soul..." and i need to fill it up, it's killing me, for God's sake.&lt;br /&gt;But fuck, i can't say i'm not afraid, to leave behind everything i have, family, friends, old habbits and stuff... with this change i'll have to create a entire new life, and the question in my head today was: "AM I READY?". I don' know, this is freaking me out, and i don't like the way that feels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, don't wanna talk too much right now, so i guess i'll stop here, gotta sleep...Man that sucks...who would give me the answers i'm chasing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-7761944119782139792?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/7761944119782139792/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=7761944119782139792' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7761944119782139792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7761944119782139792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2008/02/confidence-cohen-confidence.html' title='&quot;Confidence Cohen, confidence.&quot;'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SO6CpSmQyHI/AAAAAAAAADc/uUWD_2e8oM8/s72-c/anna%27s+gone2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-3681960453445527907</id><published>2007-12-26T19:35:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T19:36:28.396-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Think about it...Think!</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;Post from Kah's blog, i had to copy it...kisses mirror girl!&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;a href="http://aquareladepalavras.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;http://aquareladepalavras.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;a href="http://aquareladepalavras.blogspot.com/2007/12/voa-toa.html"&gt;Voa à toa&lt;/a&gt;                      &lt;/h3&gt;                        &lt;p&gt;Depois de amanhã é Natal. Hoje eu me dei conta de que depois de amanhã é Natal. E percebi que tenho medo. Medo de quê? Medo do tempo! Como posso ter medo do tempo, quando ele sempre foi meu amigo, me consolou, me ensinou, me trouxe tanto bem? Acho que o tempo é traiçoeiro. Ele pega a vossoura, limpa nossa sujeira, leva as tristezas embora e transforma tudo em lembrança. Mas acho que é só pra conquistar nossa confiança, quando, no final, nem lembranças mais nos restam, e ele começa a nos transformar em adultos. Eu não quero ser adulta! Adultos só se preocupam com números, não param pra ver o pôr-do-sol, têm vergonha de chorar, reprimem emoções, mascaram sentimentos. Adultos não choram no enterro da mãe. Adultos pensam que o tempo cura tudo, e deixam de se importar com as coisas, não vivem, não sentem. Adultos não têm tempo de viver. Nem o tempo mais os quer depois de um tempo. Maldito! O tempo não sabe o que quer, mas faz os adultos acharem que sabem. Eles esquecem, o tempo passa rápido demais para eles. As coisas acabam depressa, as paixões são efêmeras, o chocolate vai perdendo o gosto, o ano seguinte é só mais um ano, a família perde tanto a importância que as pessoas têm que construir uma nova... E a árvore de Natal, que antes fazia o coração acelerar, agora não passa de um enfeite perfeitamente dispensável na casa nova.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo de que seja um caminho sem volta, pois me recuso a crescer. Não quero esquecer o que me faz bem. E concordo com Chaplin quando ele afirmou que o ciclo da vida está ao contrário. Deveríamos deixar para ser crianças depois... Quando já trabalhamos, já nos cansamos. Aí sim é que deveríamos descobrir o real sentido da vida. E sem esquecer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-3681960453445527907?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/3681960453445527907/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=3681960453445527907' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/3681960453445527907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/3681960453445527907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2007/12/think-about-itthink.html' title='Think about it...Think!'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-7146041278822988605</id><published>2007-12-26T07:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T07:36:32.368-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't seem to understand!</title><content type='html'>Not much to say, i though things were going just fine, but i was wrong...&lt;br /&gt;Fucking awful x-mas... the first one without the most beloved person in the whole world... Still lovin' you!&lt;br /&gt;Buuut that's something i'll have to learn how to handle, how to get used to, right?&lt;br /&gt;In the other hand, well, i don't wanna go deep into this subject, let's say that i just CAN'T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND! I hope, deeply, that everything will get better, 'cause i don't like the way that things are right now, it doesn't have to be like that, well, that's what I think...&lt;br /&gt;I wanna say thanx to Rafa, the Handsome, for the hugs, LOL, thanx man, i really needed those hugs... you can count on me, always, even when you get sleepy...fucker!&lt;br /&gt;Weeell i guess that's it, for now.&lt;br /&gt;kisses pals!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to Black is the best cd EVER (i'm just excited, but it is very good).&lt;br /&gt;Thanx Cuh, i just loved it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-7146041278822988605?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/7146041278822988605/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=7146041278822988605' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7146041278822988605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/7146041278822988605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2007/12/cant-seem-to-understand.html' title='Can&apos;t seem to understand!'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9087819037612518493.post-8963468683192540829</id><published>2007-12-15T04:27:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T05:01:42.905-02:00</updated><title type='text'>UNdecisions</title><content type='html'>Why do we have to make so many hard decisions in our lives?&lt;br /&gt;It would be very easier if we could just stay still and see the answers clearly, like water...but no, easy is boring...we have to suffer, learn, grow.&lt;br /&gt;When you kind of believe that things are going through the right path, the "destiny" (or whatever you want to call) comes and says: "Yes, things will be different now". And you ask yourself why.&lt;br /&gt;The answer is simple: this is life, if nothing else, just life.&lt;br /&gt;I know that sometimes some changes will hurt, but they are necessary, so what can we do?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it makes any sense for you, but it does for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9087819037612518493-8963468683192540829?l=bimduarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/feeds/8963468683192540829/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9087819037612518493&amp;postID=8963468683192540829' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/8963468683192540829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9087819037612518493/posts/default/8963468683192540829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bimduarte.blogspot.com/2007/12/undecises_14.html' title='UNdecisions'/><author><name>Bruno</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12405191959410455923</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Meu9Yeqs4AM/SjcYX7wYLRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ldUMuJXjyD0/S220/eu.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
