<?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-6877043</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:03:58.470-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Equinócio</title><subtitle type='html'>[Do lat. &lt;em&gt;aequinoctiu&lt;/em&gt;.] &lt;em&gt;S. m. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. &lt;/strong&gt; Ponto da órbita da Terra em que se registra uma igual duração do dia e da noite (...)_______________&lt;strong&gt; Tatiana Castro . 23 anos . Bióloga . Estudante de mestrado em Bacteriologia Clínica da UERJ . Banda = DILEMA . Rock é bom e eu gosto .&lt;/strong&gt;
</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108985967177913187</id><published>2004-07-15T00:46:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-15T00:47:51.780-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>III. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há quantas noites fito o céu, &lt;br /&gt;num continuo olhar desprendido dos olhos,&lt;br /&gt;procurando aleatoriamente um contentamento qualquer...&lt;br /&gt;E nem sei pelo que procuro.&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer coisa me vale.&lt;br /&gt;Uma esperança, talvez?&lt;br /&gt;(alegria dos desesperados)&lt;br /&gt;Um projeto então&lt;br /&gt;(algo que mantenha são meu pensamento).&lt;br /&gt;Cismo neste continuo esforço desmedido, &lt;br /&gt;em, ao longe, no céu infinito, &lt;br /&gt;reencontrar o meu caminho de volta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108985967177913187?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108985967177913187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108985967177913187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108985967177913187' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108932120134696739</id><published>2004-07-08T19:12:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-08T19:13:21.346-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Jackpot&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm dealing&lt;br /&gt;would you like to play?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108932120134696739?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108932120134696739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108932120134696739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108932120134696739' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108925671973103186</id><published>2004-07-08T01:17:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-08T01:36:53.113-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>II.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou cansada. &lt;br /&gt;O dia se encerrou monocromático e insípido. &lt;br /&gt;Quase não o percebi. &lt;br /&gt;Quase me pareceu como se eu não tivesse saído da cama. &lt;br /&gt;E ainda assim, &lt;br /&gt;sei que tanta coisa fiz. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revela-se fraco &lt;br /&gt;meu sorriso sem força, &lt;br /&gt;cravado no rosto como pedras em uma parede. &lt;br /&gt;Dentes corretos, &lt;br /&gt;graças à ortodontia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria um aparelho que me corrigisse por dentro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108925671973103186?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108925671973103186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108925671973103186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108925671973103186' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108914698176708659</id><published>2004-07-06T18:47:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-06T18:49:41.766-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do meu primeiro livro 'Inconcreto e Insolúvel - Sete Poemas'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Poema 1 - As horas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As horas...&lt;br /&gt;O acompanhar psicótico dos ponteiros do relógio.&lt;br /&gt;O vão insolúvel do silêncio,&lt;br /&gt;da solidão.&lt;br /&gt;A dor surda que entorpece o corpo.&lt;br /&gt;A analgesia esperançosa &lt;br /&gt;se extendendo....&lt;br /&gt;enlouquecendo...&lt;br /&gt;Horas furtivas e enganosas...&lt;br /&gt;ora extensas ora escassas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aprisionam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108914698176708659?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108914698176708659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108914698176708659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108914698176708659' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108905533027186525</id><published>2004-07-05T17:17:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-05T17:22:10.270-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Foda-se&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sequei o rosto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E entre meus lábios,&lt;br /&gt;estalando como bolhas,&lt;br /&gt;um risinho louco e aflitivo&lt;br /&gt;anunciava minha escolha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108905533027186525?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108905533027186525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108905533027186525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108905533027186525' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108861350603063165</id><published>2004-07-04T14:34:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-05T17:24:29.476-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sem título&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homens contruídos de fraquezas.&lt;br /&gt;Muros contruídos por seus sonhos.&lt;br /&gt;Quando o sonho impede tua clareza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Acorda!! Passastes do ponto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108861350603063165?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108861350603063165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108861350603063165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108861350603063165' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108879287234825479</id><published>2004-07-02T16:26:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-04T23:35:13.756-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Patético&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me dê caneta e papel.&lt;br /&gt;Preciso começar a viver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108879287234825479?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108879287234825479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108879287234825479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108879287234825479' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-10887843198800454</id><published>2004-07-02T13:58:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-07-07T14:55:22.176-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sleep to dream&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiona Apple&lt;br /&gt;album: Tidal - 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I tell you how I feel, but you don't care &lt;br /&gt;I say tell me the truth, but you don't dare &lt;br /&gt;You say love is a hell you cannot bear &lt;br /&gt;And I say gimme mine back and then go there - for all I care &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REFRÃO:&lt;br /&gt;I've got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream &lt;br /&gt;You've got your head in the clouds and you're not AT ALL what you seem &lt;br /&gt;This mind, this body, and this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways &lt;br /&gt;So don't forget what I told you, don't come around, I got my own hell to raise &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been so insulted in all my life &lt;br /&gt;I could swallow the seas to wash down all this pride &lt;br /&gt;First you run like a fool just to be at my side &lt;br /&gt;And now you run like a fool, but you just run to hide - and I can't abide &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REFRÃO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't make it a big deal, don't be so sensitive &lt;br /&gt;We're not playing a game anymore; you don't have to be so defensive &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you plead me your case, don't bother to explain &lt;br /&gt;Don't even show me your face, 'cuz it's a crying shame &lt;br /&gt;Just go back to the rock from under which you came &lt;br /&gt;Take the sorrow you gave and all the stakes you claim -&lt;br /&gt;And don't forget the blame &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REFRÃO&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-10887843198800454?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/10887843198800454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/10887843198800454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#10887843198800454' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108861320575006455</id><published>2004-06-30T14:31:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-30T14:33:25.750-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;EXIT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pé-ante-pé procuro a saída.&lt;br /&gt;Cuidado pra não acordar o monstro.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108861320575006455?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108861320575006455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108861320575006455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108861320575006455' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108847738518936550</id><published>2004-06-29T00:43:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-29T01:07:44.456-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sem título&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tatiana Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Venha banhar-se em meu leito&lt;br /&gt;de rio&lt;br /&gt;de tormento.&lt;br /&gt;E pise fundo nas águas frias&lt;br /&gt;azuis geladas&lt;br /&gt;adormecendo-se.&lt;br /&gt;Venha trazer todas as cores&lt;br /&gt;pro cinza cético que se arrebenta&lt;br /&gt;sob ondas frágeis de porcelana&lt;br /&gt;espuma branca&lt;br /&gt;em meus cabelos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.fudarene.blogger.com.br/ondas.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108847738518936550?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108847738518936550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108847738518936550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108847738518936550' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108778035059565839</id><published>2004-06-20T23:08:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-20T23:12:30.596-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sem título&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coral Michelin Basso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje estou à flor da pele&lt;br /&gt;estou sem pele&lt;br /&gt;estou do avesso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Metida dentro de mim mesma&lt;br /&gt;despida de mim mesma&lt;br /&gt;crucificada por consentir sentimentos demais.&lt;br /&gt;Parindo minhas dores de ser&lt;br /&gt;meus infortunos desígnios de mulher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou à flor da pele&lt;br /&gt;e minha pele está cheia de espinhos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, Mr.,&lt;br /&gt;não me lamba, por favor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108778035059565839?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108778035059565839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108778035059565839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108778035059565839' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108771499541689262</id><published>2004-06-20T04:52:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-20T05:03:15.416-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Passageira&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coral Michelin Basso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã minha vida é menos cometa.&lt;br /&gt;é mais planeta&lt;br /&gt;que gira em órbita estrelar&lt;br /&gt;na constelação do teu olhar&lt;br /&gt;de sonhador. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108771499541689262?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108771499541689262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108771499541689262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108771499541689262' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108751408632893215</id><published>2004-06-17T21:11:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T21:14:46.326-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hoje ganhei isso de um total desconhecido, quando estava sentada com amigos a mesa de um bar. Curioso...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O desenho dos pés &lt;br /&gt;diz:&lt;br /&gt;Serei feliz&lt;br /&gt;sem chão para pisar."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108751408632893215?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108751408632893215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108751408632893215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108751408632893215' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108747963432182902</id><published>2004-06-17T11:36:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T11:45:06.616-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sullen Girl &lt;/strong&gt;- trecho da música     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fiona Apple&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days like this&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with myself&lt;br /&gt;all day and all night&lt;br /&gt;I wander the halls &lt;br /&gt;along the walls and under my breath&lt;br /&gt;I say to myself&lt;br /&gt;"I need fuel - to take flight"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's too much going on...&lt;br /&gt;But it's calm under the waves&lt;br /&gt;in the blue of my oblivion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.fudarene.blogger.com.br/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108747963432182902?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108747963432182902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108747963432182902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108747963432182902' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108743625815324314</id><published>2004-06-16T23:36:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T23:37:38.153-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A vida é assim mesmo.... a gente fica aqui, de um lado.... só olhando para o outro lado... onde estão nossos sonhos, nosso ímpeto, nossa liberdade, nosso instinto, nosso desejo....um lugar onde somos nós mesmo e fazemos o que NÓS queremos.... Acabamos por afastar esse lugar devido ao dia-a-dia corrido, tarefas, prazos, contas, medos, hora, data, limites.... deixamos para amanhã..... para o ano que vêm.... para quando terminarmos os estudos... para daqui há cinco anos.... quem sabe para nunca..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho corrido muito. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem sabe amanhã eu termine meus afazeres mais cedo e possa andar por Ipanema.... ver as sombras crescerem.... ver que ainda tenho um tempinho para passar na minha vó.... comer tapioca... voltar de ônibus pra casa com a maior preguiça..... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108743625815324314?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108743625815324314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108743625815324314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108743625815324314' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108731233591911162</id><published>2004-06-15T13:09:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-15T13:12:15.920-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Desistência &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Tati Castro - trecho da música)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já perdi muita coisa&lt;br /&gt;Letras e paciência&lt;br /&gt;Amigos pela estrada&lt;br /&gt;Vencidos pela desistência&lt;br /&gt;De vozes sem palavras&lt;br /&gt;que calam no que pensam&lt;br /&gt;subjugam-se à vontade &lt;br /&gt;dos muros que prendem a represa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108731233591911162?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108731233591911162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108731233591911162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108731233591911162' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108578109471207274</id><published>2004-05-28T19:50:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T15:48:56.116-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Autodidata&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aprendi cedo como voar.&lt;br /&gt;Procuro pista de decolagem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108578109471207274?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108578109471207274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108578109471207274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108578109471207274' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108578089764639455</id><published>2004-05-28T19:41:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-14T01:51:53.136-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Francês. Eu sei. Não você.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você me sorriu um sorriso "marchand".&lt;br /&gt;Usou teu lucro.&lt;br /&gt;Gastou teu gozo.&lt;br /&gt;Em um dado momento, parou e me sorriu novamente. &lt;br /&gt;E por entre teus dentes, &lt;br /&gt;escorriam amargos filetes de ouro.&lt;br /&gt;O ouro das minhas carnes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108578089764639455?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108578089764639455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108578089764639455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108578089764639455' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108501950625539734</id><published>2004-05-20T00:16:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-06-14T01:53:53.283-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Liberte&lt;/strong&gt; (trecho)- Tati Castro &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meus dias todos andam tão extensos&lt;br /&gt;em silêncio e torpor&lt;br /&gt;Ouvi falar que eu tenho liberdade&lt;br /&gt;Me liberte da dor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108501950625539734?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108501950625539734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108501950625539734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108501950625539734' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108449996552272738</id><published>2004-05-13T23:56:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-14T00:03:10.286-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Fases do sono&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;II - Sonho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inda fosse sonhar,&lt;br /&gt;sonharia um sonho lírico,&lt;br /&gt;como nos livros retratado&lt;br /&gt;por Cecília ou por Clarice.&lt;br /&gt;Fosse livre minha escolha,&lt;br /&gt;viveria sonho adentro;&lt;br /&gt;Na quietude da loucura.&lt;br /&gt;Na loucura do silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;Mas fale baixo ao falar de sonho,&lt;br /&gt;este caçado e contraditório devaneio.&lt;br /&gt;Procurado vivo ou morto&lt;br /&gt;pelo cansaço e pelo desespero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108449996552272738?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108449996552272738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108449996552272738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108449996552272738' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108428179999178539</id><published>2004-05-11T11:20:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-11T11:25:11.033-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Fases do sono&lt;br /&gt;I - Pesadelo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teu vulto escuro cruzou minha mente&lt;br /&gt;e fez menção de ir ao meu encontro, &lt;br /&gt;para meu tormento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parou, porém, estático.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Como quem sente o cheiro do medo&lt;br /&gt;e encarna o cárcere).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhou-me fixo olhos adentro,&lt;br /&gt;E fez pulsar em todas minhas veias&lt;br /&gt;um arrepio incontrolável&lt;br /&gt;de pavor,&lt;br /&gt;de desespero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acuei-me contra a parede&lt;br /&gt;e rezei baixo:&lt;br /&gt;Pra que fosse embora;&lt;br /&gt;Pra que fosse um pesadelo.&lt;br /&gt;Mas tal como surdina, &lt;br /&gt;cobriu-me o rosto,&lt;br /&gt;falando baixo e lentamente&lt;br /&gt;qualquer loucura da qual não me lembro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108428179999178539?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108428179999178539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108428179999178539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108428179999178539' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108415472283614351</id><published>2004-05-10T00:00:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-10T00:05:22.836-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Meu preferido atualmente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Tati Castro)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre um segundo e o seguinte&lt;br /&gt;pisquei os olhos.&lt;br /&gt;E, sem querer, de minhas mãos&lt;br /&gt;Deixei cair todo o sentido&lt;br /&gt;Que me fazia vivente em ruas cruas&lt;br /&gt;e cantante com palavras nuas.&lt;br /&gt;E vi correr pelo asfalto,&lt;br /&gt;rolando como uma moeda velha,&lt;br /&gt;aquele jeito que eu sempre tive &lt;br /&gt;de fazer tudo da minha forma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do único jeito que me fazia sentido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108415472283614351?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108415472283614351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108415472283614351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108415472283614351' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108390205048054000</id><published>2004-05-07T01:47:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-07T01:58:38.170-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Aceitação&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cecília Meirelles&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É mais fácil pousar o ouvido nas nuvens&lt;br /&gt;e sentir passar as estrelas&lt;br /&gt;do que prendê-lo à terra e alcançar o rumor dos teus passos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É mais fácil, também, debruçar os olhos no oceano&lt;br /&gt;e assistir, lá no fundo, ao nascimento mudo das formas,&lt;br /&gt;que desejar que apareças, criando com teu simples gesto&lt;br /&gt;o sinal de uma eterna esperança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me interessa mais nem as estrelas, nem as formas do mar, &lt;br /&gt;nem tu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desenrolei de dentro do tempo a minha canção:&lt;br /&gt;não tenho inveja às cigarras: também vou morrer de cantar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108390205048054000?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108390205048054000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108390205048054000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108390205048054000' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108359939986895876</id><published>2004-05-03T13:47:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-03T13:54:12.340-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Prêmio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nosso amor foi que nem um fliperama&lt;br /&gt;colorido e alucinado.&lt;br /&gt;Compramos fichas demais.&lt;br /&gt;Apostamos dinheiro demais.&lt;br /&gt;E agora que o jogo emperrou,&lt;br /&gt;as luzes se apagaram,&lt;br /&gt;as cores perderam a vida,&lt;br /&gt;Ficamos aqui parados.&lt;br /&gt;Mãos sem ter rumo.&lt;br /&gt;Olhos sem ter algo a seguir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108359939986895876?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108359939986895876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108359939986895876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108359939986895876' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108351674143917945</id><published>2004-05-02T14:51:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-02T14:57:11.936-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Break-up&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ando tropeçando no teu lixo.&lt;br /&gt;No bagaço do nosso envolvimento.&lt;br /&gt;A casca cortada se enrola no chão desenhando uma letra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isso não significa nada.&lt;br /&gt;Nada significa nada.&lt;br /&gt;Chega de interpretações.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108351674143917945?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108351674143917945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108351674143917945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108351674143917945' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108347008311962703</id><published>2004-05-02T01:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-02T01:59:03.950-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Verdade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Podes falar, que não te ouvirei.&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos não tocam tua alma.&lt;br /&gt;Tuas palavras não tocarão minha essência.&lt;br /&gt;Não haverá troca.&lt;br /&gt;Não haverá poema.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tardei a perceber que minha chaga não te causa pena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108347008311962703?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108347008311962703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108347008311962703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108347008311962703' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877043.post-108343763063423847</id><published>2004-05-01T16:51:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-05-02T01:56:37.360-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Fuga&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tati Castro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dispersos, meus sonhos vagueiam por ruas intensas&lt;br /&gt;em busca de um porto, um canto, um itinerário.&lt;br /&gt;E nos sobressaltos de chamados alheios, ri tolo e cansado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meus sonhos cavam o chão, de tanto percorrer as mesmas ruas&lt;br /&gt;e arrastam consigo meu corpo moribundo.&lt;br /&gt;Um fio nos prende, o fio da esperança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Não o largue, Sonho, não o largue - grita a esperança &lt;br /&gt;em voz sofrida&lt;br /&gt;- Não deixe cair este corpo ferido. Até onde puder, o&lt;br /&gt;carregue consigo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Enquanto isso, a esperança cerzia asas de pano).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6877043-108343763063423847?l=taticastro.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108343763063423847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877043/posts/default/108343763063423847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taticastro.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108343763063423847' title=''/><author><name>Bia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
