<?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-7507387338084275428</id><updated>2011-12-13T11:42:30.417Z</updated><category term='images'/><category term='future'/><category term='harry potter'/><category term='feeling'/><category term='sad'/><category term='férias'/><category term='me'/><category term='Not mine'/><category term='poem'/><category term='solidão'/><category term='photography'/><category term='talk'/><category term='quote'/><category term='moment'/><category term='images me blog'/><category term='dream'/><category term='one shot'/><category term='felicidade'/><category term='blog'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='BEDA'/><category term='Criticas'/><category term='description'/><category term='depressive'/><category term='twitter'/><category term='short stories'/><category term='twilight'/><category term='fanfiction'/><category term='Video/Music'/><category term='music monday'/><category term='love'/><category term='rant'/><category term='pet'/><category term='thinking'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>the portrait of my life</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>134</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6065673886983634038</id><published>2010-10-08T21:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T21:53:41.594+01:00</updated><title type='text'>remember.</title><content type='html'>O ritmo da universidade é ainda mais alucinante do que eu pensava, quem diria... Três semanas passadas e parece que nem passaram três dias. Sitíos novos, aulas novas, pessoas novas, rotinas novas, ... E sem querer a pouco e pouco, esqueço-me de como era, antiagamente, de sair de casa às 8:05 para as aulas daí a 5 minutos, de passar os intervalos no bar ou na área coberta, de estar com as pessoas que conheci durante anos e anos. Esqueço-me e tento ao mesmo tempo lembrar-me enquanto corro de um lado para o outro: apanhar o metro a uma hora inimaginável, não saber exactamente onde fica a sala/bar/w.c./fotocópias, falar com pessoas das quais nem sei o nome ainda e de constatemente repetir o meu ("É Catarina, não é?", "Sim, e tu és...? Desculpa, é muita gente."), ter aulas em que saio a perceber menos do que quando entrei, estudar tudo e nada só para o caso de ser a próxima vitíma da professora de Contabilidade, fazer o exame de código e passar, dormir 5 horas para começar tudo outra vez no outro dia, porque há um trabalho de grupo que vale 40% para entregar na próxima semana sobre matéria que não vamos dar. É difícil conciliar tudo, é difícil não esquecer com tanto para viver. E depois dou por mim no fim de uma semana que voou a olhar para as fotografias do baile de finalistas e a relembrar que nunca nenhuma noite será comparável aquela, nunca nenhuns amigos serão como aqueles, nunca haverá uma semana tão ocupada que me permita esquecer aquelas que continuam a ser as pessoas que mais marcaram a minha vida. Tenho tantas saudades, credo... Só agora é que me apercebo. Só agora é que vejo que isto, a universidade, não é uma coisa temporária: os tempos do Secundário, felizmente e infelizmente, não vão voltar. Mas haverão sempre oportunidades para relembrar, e obviamente, para reencontrar e reviver aqueles momentos com aquelas pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6065673886983634038?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6065673886983634038/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6065673886983634038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6065673886983634038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6065673886983634038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/10/remember.html' title='remember.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8855103219128748282</id><published>2010-08-16T21:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T21:40:07.927+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><title type='text'>making decisions.</title><content type='html'>Chega uma altura em que é preciso tomar decisões: direita ou esquerda, economia ou gestão, branco ou preto, ser feliz ou não... Na verdade cada vez me custa mais a acreditar que a última seja uma opção, mas funciona mais como uma predisposição genética. A felicidade é algo que é tão ridiculamente óbvio para algumas pessoas, e para outras não poderia ser uma regalia mais rara.&lt;br /&gt;Decisões, decisões, ... Quanto mais o tempo avança mais dificeis se tornam as escolhas, mais emaranhado se torna o percurso por entre as árvores, o nevoeiro a encobrir o que se avizinha, a floresta em que vivo a obstruir a passagem de todas as maneiras possiveís. Não há saída? Não parece haver. Eu procuro e procuro, eu caio e volto a levantar-me, apenas para descobrir que ando às voltas no mesmo círculo vicioso.&lt;br /&gt;"Vale a pena lutar?" - pergunto-me - "Vale a pena continuar a massacrar o que já está dormente de dor?"&lt;br /&gt;Penso seriamente no assunto, mas eventualmente sempre me levanto e continuo a busca. Porém a questão põe-se mais uma vez: ficar ou ir, desistir ou lutar, ganhar ou morrer? Ao fim do dia os meus ossos estalam e pesam e arrastam-se preparando-se para um novo dia, dia após dia, neste labirinto sem fim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="137" width="200"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Zx9Jn5RW0ow?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Zx9Jn5RW0ow?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="200" height="137"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8855103219128748282?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8855103219128748282/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8855103219128748282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8855103219128748282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8855103219128748282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-decisions.html' title='making decisions.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7303934305001333464</id><published>2010-06-22T09:49:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T11:08:15.712+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='short stories'/><title type='text'>04.09.2007 - 20:10</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://assets1.lomography.com/386/576/6b/aecf2c67eab13767c01ae41f643ed4bc484c5c.jpg?auth=6aff93bf8eb957c9f9ff7c11073bb77078138428" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://assets1.lomography.com/386/576/6b/aecf2c67eab13767c01ae41f643ed4bc484c5c.jpg?auth=6aff93bf8eb957c9f9ff7c11073bb77078138428" width="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;À medida que o comboio passava as pessoas olhavam curiosas.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A cabeça de uma pequena rapariguinha dos seus 16 anos estava a espreitar para fora do comboio, e à medida que ele andava mais depressa, mais ela punha a cabeça de fora, com um largo sorriso na cara, o seu cabelo loiro com manchas de castanho aqui e ali.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Meredith vivera sempre numa cidade pequena com a sua mãe e nunca visitara uma cidade grande como Seattle. A mãe, Delia, nunca tivera muito dinheiro e as coisas tinham piorado desde que o seu pai morrera quando ela tinha apenas 4 anos.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Mas agora era tudo diferente... Ela tinha trabalhado em part-time num café para ganhar dinheiro para fazer a viagem da sua vida e para pagar os estudos. Não tinha sido propriamente fácil, mas na sua opinião valera a pena, pois nunca na sua vida se sentira tão feliz.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Agora, depois de todo o esforço, de tirar uma boas férias em Seattle, ela teria milhões de portas, ela poderia escolher qualquer uma para o seu futuro, mas o que é que ela queria realmente?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Desde pequena que ela tinha o sonho de ir a Seattle, andar de ferryboat, mas agora que já tinha concretizado os seus sonhos, qual é que seria o seu próximo objectivo?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A brisa começava a ser cada vez menos à medida que o comboio abrandava, e o cabelo de Meredith já quase nem esvoaçava, ao contrário dos seus pensamentos, que voavam a alta velocidade dentro da sua cabeça.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Quando o comboio parou definitivamente ela pegou na sua pequena mala de viagem e saiu. Olhou à sua volta. O rio de um lado e os prédios do outro, em ambos o sol reflectia de uma maneira simplesmente fantástica, era um brilho que emanava alegria e esperança.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Meredith sentia que aquilo era o início de uma nova aventura, fosse qual fosse a sua decisão para o futuro, ela tinha a certeza que seria feliz no fim.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje estive a fazer arrumações - a minha vida nos Maristas acabou, os exames (em&amp;nbsp;princípio) acabaram, e eu descobri este texto num caderno de apontamentos ainda do 10ºano, quando ainda acreditava em sonhos&amp;nbsp;impossíveis&amp;nbsp;e coisas do género. De qualquer maneira, tenho tendência a perder folhas soltas e não gosto de perder os meus textos por isso, e como se enquadra nesta fase das nossas vidas (da minha, dos finalistas do 12ºano, de todos os que estão prontos a mudar algo na sua vida) achei por bem postar aqui, apesar de a escrita ser um bocado terrível e ter demasiadas referências a Anatomia de Grey. Lamento. Culpem o meu eu de 15 anos. Nem foi assim há tanto tempo, mas parece que passou uma vida inteira nestes 3 anos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7303934305001333464?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7303934305001333464/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7303934305001333464&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7303934305001333464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7303934305001333464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/06/04092007-2010.html' title='04.09.2007 - 20:10'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5654007881872152069</id><published>2010-06-10T20:54:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T20:55:18.939+01:00</updated><title type='text'>need to love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://assets3.lomography.com/576/387/1b/167204a22f768424d90358c2f8d7dff112ab66.jpg?auth=a64f3ab9e90088623a30a689eff44add0a4d6ee1" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="215" src="http://assets3.lomography.com/576/387/1b/167204a22f768424d90358c2f8d7dff112ab66.jpg?auth=a64f3ab9e90088623a30a689eff44add0a4d6ee1" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I want to live in a field of daisies where it's neither too sunny or too cloudy for the rest of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I want to go to Paris, again and again, travel across Europe and sleep on the streets, wake up with the smell of a new day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I want to read every book there is to read and love them and keep them, with me, forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I want to listen to this music all the time and not get tired of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I want to dream, pretty dreams of clouds and stars and random crap that I find nice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I want to dance&lt;/span&gt;. A lot. Dance and dance and dance until no one stands to watch me dance anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I want to spin around and around and around and have a dress that spins as well as I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I want a lot, a lot of things, a lot of things that can't be done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I want to fly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I want to stop wanting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I want and I don't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="visibility: visible;"&gt;&lt;object data="http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mff-stick.swf" height="35" style="height: 35px; width: 219px;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="219"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mff-stick.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale" /&gt;&lt;param name="salign" value="TL" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="myid=56955631&amp;path=2010/06/10&amp;mycolor=692E2E&amp;mycolor2=2B0909&amp;mycolor3=FFFFFF&amp;autoplay=false&amp;rand=0&amp;f=4&amp;vol=100&amp;pat=0&amp;grad=false"/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mixpod.com/playlist/56955631" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Music" src="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/images/get-tracks.gif" style="border-style: none;" title="Get Music Tracks!" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mixpod.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Playlist" src="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/images/make-own.gif" style="border-style: none;" title="Create A Playlist!" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mixpod.com/"&gt;Music&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://mixpod.com/"&gt;Playlist&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://mixpod.com/"&gt;MixPod.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5654007881872152069?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5654007881872152069/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5654007881872152069&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5654007881872152069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5654007881872152069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/06/need-to-love.html' title='need to love.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7509666621899780425</id><published>2010-06-10T10:53:00.011+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T17:07:34.611+01:00</updated><title type='text'>this time is ours.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs310.snc3/29124_1436608387497_1001587137_31287500_2842701_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs310.snc3/29124_1436608387497_1001587137_31287500_2842701_n.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;A&lt;i&gt;fter tonight,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;who knows where we'll be tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;what if we're never here again?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;After tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This will be a lifetime ago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;so let's stay up until the sky bleeds red.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we'll stop stop stop the world from moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Stop stop stop the grass from turning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Stop this night from fading away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;If I could hold this moment in my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I'd stop the world from moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I'd stop the grass from turning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;inside a frozen memory of us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we are motionless, motionless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Gone like a dream that I have just awoken from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Fading away, just out of reach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we are here, but I already miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;even as you're lying next to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs330.snc3/29124_1436608307495_1001587137_31287498_60227_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs330.snc3/29124_1436608307495_1001587137_31287498_60227_n.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we'll stop stop stop the world from moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Stop stop stop the grass from turning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Stop this night from fading away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;If I could hold this moment in my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I'd stop the world from moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I'd stop the grass from turning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;inside a frozen memory of us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we are motionless, motionless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we'll stop stop stop the world from moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Stop stop stop the grass from turning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Stop this night from fading away, fading away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs637.snc3/31976_427486177089_780862089_5607360_3048747_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="211" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs637.snc3/31976_427486177089_780862089_5607360_3048747_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;If I could hold this moment in my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I'd stop the world from moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I'd stop the grass from turning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;inside a frozen memory of us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;And we are motionless, motionless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;This time is ours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_2072114436"&gt;Ours&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_2072114436"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.filefreak.com/files/179110_scoe2/03%20Ours.m4a"&gt;by The Bravery&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEyNzYxODU5MDczNzMmcHQ9MTI3NjE4NjAwMTI2NCZwPTE4MDMxJmQ9Jmc9MSZvPTBhYzhjN2Q3MDNiZjQzZTY4OTVm/NjliYjU*Mjk*MDAy.gif" /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;p style="visibility:visible;"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mff-stick.swf" height="35" width="219" style="width:219px;height:35px"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mff-stick.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale" /&gt;&lt;param name="salign" value="TL" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="myid=56941777&amp;path=2010/06/10&amp;mycolor=312d3b&amp;mycolor2=4f93b0&amp;mycolor3=99bfbe&amp;autoplay=false&amp;rand=0&amp;f=4&amp;vol=100&amp;pat=0&amp;grad=false"/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mixpod.com/playlist/56941777" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/images/get-tracks.gif" title="Get Music Tracks!" style="border-style:none;" alt="Music"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mixpod.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://assets.myflashfetish.com/images/make-own.gif" title="Create A Playlist!" style="border-style:none;" alt="Playlist"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mixpod.com"&gt;Music&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://mixpod.com"&gt;Playlist&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://mixpod.com"&gt;MixPod.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Acho que nada descreve melhor a noite de ontem como esta música. Só agora me apercebo que nunca mais vou ver grande parte das pessoas com quem passei anos e anos na mesma escola e ontem festejei o fim desta fase das nossas vidas. Para dizer a verdade, a noite de ontem, a noite do Baile de Finalistas, foi uma das melhores noites da minha vida, superou bastante as minhas expectativas e nunca me esquecerei dela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;Se ao menos o tempo não passasse e pudéssemos viver naquela noite para sempre, todos juntos, mas com a ideia que estamos prestes a enfrentar o futuro que nos espera. Porque a verdade é que nenhum de nós quer ficar nos Maristas mas também ninguém quer sair. E agora, quer estejamos preparados ou não, o tempo passa, a noite, a nossa vida naquela escola acaba e o futuro espera-nos, noutra escola, com outras pessoas, noutro sitio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;E desde que ninguém se esqueça dos momentos vividos, não há motivo para chorar - como tem sido o hábito nestes últimos dias - sim, foram momentos maravilhosos, mas agora é tempo de seguirmos em frente e viver mais momentos, bons ou maus, com outras pessoas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;15 anos... Não é pouco tempo. É uma vida. E agora está na altura de continuar a vivê-la.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 9pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7509666621899780425?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7509666621899780425/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7509666621899780425&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7509666621899780425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7509666621899780425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-time-is-ours_10.html' title='this time is ours.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2966261292538563048</id><published>2010-06-07T22:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T22:08:18.457+01:00</updated><title type='text'>nothing.</title><content type='html'>A música ecoa por todo o lado, como sempre ecoou, a diferença é que agora não significa nada.&lt;br /&gt;Nada significa nada, nada, nada de nada. É o vazio maldito que não tem significado e não sabe a nada.&lt;br /&gt;Cabelo por todo o lado - estou a agitar a minha cabeça ao som da música insignificante, não sei porquê.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto o mundo a girar, a fugir-me debaixo dos pés, e não sinto nada, estou apática à espera que prossiga. Sinto-o a girar mas não significa nada, nada de nada.&lt;br /&gt;Porque o nada tornou-se tudo e o tudo tornou-se nada, e o mundo, o meu cubículo ficou virado ao contrário, como as crianças julgam a China virada ao contrário, sem remédio ou volta a dar.&lt;br /&gt;O vento sopra, muda de intensidade, o sol queima, aumenta a intensidade, eu não sinto, prefiro assim, leva a dor &amp;nbsp;da mudança para longe. Queria acreditar que a mudança era tudo o que eu precisava, mas o que eu precisava mesmo era do nada que agora tudo é.&lt;br /&gt;Sinceramente já nada faz sentido, a inexistência é a forma mais comfortável de existir, e depois? Resta esperar que o nada nunca se transforme em algo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4070/4424650502_8bb2128b96.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4070/4424650502_8bb2128b96.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alshepmcr/4424650502/"&gt;------&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="20" height="40"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YJJzxN1iIkc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YJJzxN1iIkc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="20" height="40"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2966261292538563048?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2966261292538563048/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2966261292538563048&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2966261292538563048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2966261292538563048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/06/nothing.html' title='nothing.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4070/4424650502_8bb2128b96_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8620335453290556405</id><published>2010-06-06T20:06:00.010+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T20:23:15.050+01:00</updated><title type='text'>control.</title><content type='html'>Ás vezes - a maior parte das vezes para dizer a verdade - gostava que todos os dias fossem assim: um domingo intemporal, em que existo apenas em espírito, num quarto demasiado arrumado, mas em que não é necessária a preocupação com a aparência exterior, em que tudo é mais fácil, e um livro para sonhar com mundos distantes, diferentes, retirados da minha rotina apertada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alshepmcr/4466841052/"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4065/4466841052_93266317aa.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A maior parte do tempo sinto-me culpada por desejar a facilidade, o caminho mais fácil, a imperfeição, mas a verdade é que enquanto a lógica pede uma coisa, o coração pede descanso, uma saída que ainda não encontrei e cada vez se parece mais com uma luz ao fundo de um túnel cada vez mais longo, escuro, estreito...&lt;br /&gt;É domingo, depois segunda-feira, depois terça, e o ciclo semanal repete-se, as melhorias são até aparentemente visíveis no meu espírito, até a rotina apertada e controla se desmanchar e o medo aumentar e a confusão reaparecer e a ansiedade tomar conta de tudo arrastando-nos pelo abismo abaixo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8620335453290556405?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8620335453290556405/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8620335453290556405&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8620335453290556405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8620335453290556405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/06/control.html' title='control.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4065/4466841052_93266317aa_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8828512269953049451</id><published>2010-04-27T21:42:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T21:32:54.037+01:00</updated><title type='text'>do you ever feel like you're falling into a black hole?</title><content type='html'>do you ever feel like you're falling into a black hole?&lt;br /&gt;a melhor maneira de imaginar a situação é pensar em Bella Swan perdida na floresta depois de ter sido rejeitada (Lua Nova), nada faz sentido, não há direcção, não há saída. E no entanto toda a gente parece saber ou opinar sobre a melhor maneira de dar volta a tal situação apesar de nunca terem estado nessa posição.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8828512269953049451?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8828512269953049451/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8828512269953049451&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8828512269953049451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8828512269953049451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/do-you-ever-feel-like-youre-falling.html' title='do you ever feel like you&apos;re falling into a black hole?'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4826822911507472856</id><published>2010-04-07T23:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T23:13:19.824+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>sun.</title><content type='html'>The &lt;i&gt;sun&lt;/i&gt;. Hoje tudo o que consegui ver nos poucos momentos de dia que ainda apanhei foi sol. Imenso. E tirei mais fotografias, mas ainda não consegui acabar a porcaria do rolo.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim...&lt;br /&gt;Aparentemente vai haver um espectáculo de Ballet no final do ano lectivo, no qual posso ou não participar. Should be interesting. Moreover, nem acredito que faltam qualquer coisa como DOIS MESES para acabar o &lt;s&gt;bendito&lt;/s&gt; Ensino Secundário. Sinceramente não podia ficar mais feliz por ver aquela escola pelas costas. Tentem andar num colégio católico durante 15 anos - hint: not pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw7lgjXgwZ1qzpe8uo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw7lgjXgwZ1qzpe8uo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thelastdisco/4051934544/in/set-72157618505176365/"&gt;------&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lamento a criatividade não está muito activa hoje. Tenho que começar a escrever isto mais cedo ou todos os dias vou dizer a mesma coisa...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4826822911507472856?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4826822911507472856/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4826822911507472856&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4826822911507472856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4826822911507472856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/sun.html' title='sun.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-854008440306242752</id><published>2010-04-06T23:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T23:11:57.505+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>will grayson.</title><content type='html'>Hoje foi um dia um bocado &lt;i&gt;random&lt;/i&gt;. Não fiz literalmente nada, estive a organizar fotografias de férias antigas.&lt;br /&gt;Enfim... Amanhã quero sair de casa. Estou farta de estar aqui e tem estado bom tempo, por isso...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7uw38SB8PI/AAAAAAAAAXA/49dubuNIUEQ/s1600/ferias2009+069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7uw38SB8PI/AAAAAAAAAXA/49dubuNIUEQ/s320/ferias2009+069.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Inglaterra 2009&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(que nojo de foto. ugh.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Hoje sai o &lt;i&gt;Will Grayson, Will Grayson&lt;/i&gt;... Eu QUERO! Acho que mais uma vez este vai ser um dos meus livros preferidos (assim como todos os outros do John, especialmente &lt;i&gt;Looking For Alaska&lt;/i&gt;).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-854008440306242752?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/854008440306242752/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=854008440306242752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/854008440306242752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/854008440306242752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/will-grayson.html' title='will grayson.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7uw38SB8PI/AAAAAAAAAXA/49dubuNIUEQ/s72-c/ferias2009+069.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5031381907176064219</id><published>2010-04-05T22:56:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T22:57:31.847+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>stranger.</title><content type='html'>Hoje estava a ver televisão e num dos muitos episódios dramáticos de uma série popular (que até é uma das minhas preferidas) comecei a pensar em algo que se diz muito mas nunca acreditamos realmente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="22" width="25"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0HivPm08X3c&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0HivPm08X3c&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="25" height="22"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei se é um provérbio ou não. Para dizer a verdade não tenho muito jeito para decorar esse tipo de coisas, mas é dizer popular, segredo que corre de boca em boca: se queres contar os teus problemas, os teus segredos mais profundos, libertar a parte o lado escuro, fala com um estranho.&lt;br /&gt;E a verdade é que, amigo nenhum pode substituir o conforto de desabafar com alguém que não conhecemos, que não nos conhece, que não está envolvido no problema, que não nos julga. E quanto melhor o amigo, menos vontade temos de falar sobre o assunto.&lt;br /&gt;Claro que nem sempre é assim. Há coisas que só falamos com os nossos mais intimos conhecidos. E por isso recusamos este pensamento tão rapidamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l0f9vvOTTr1qaxjh5o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" src="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l0f9vvOTTr1qaxjh5o1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/clementinesundress/3911297886/"&gt;-------&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas e se...&lt;br /&gt;No meu caso, sempre preferi falar com pessoas que não conheço sobre certos assuntos porque sei que as pessoas que melhor me conhecem ficariam desiludidas, já para não falar que não é algo que eu possa partilhar mesmo que queira. Aliás tenho a experiência de ter mencionado algo em relação ao assunto, ao "Inominável", a alguém muito próximo. E mesmo estando bêbada no frio de Santos, nunca me hei-de esquecer da expressão de choque, que não posso negar, magoa. Também me lembro que numa tentativa desesperada de recuperar a paz disse que tudo se tinha passado há muito tempo a trás. O que não é verdade e ambas as partes o sabem, mas preferimos ignorar o assunto até que se torne preocupante - e quando esse dia chegar, também sabemos que será 100 vezes pior do que se tivessemos resolvido o assunto logo ao inicío.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5031381907176064219?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5031381907176064219/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5031381907176064219&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5031381907176064219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5031381907176064219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/hoje-estava-ver-televisao-e-num-dos.html' title='stranger.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8514357859691729984</id><published>2010-04-04T23:13:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T23:20:15.202+01:00</updated><title type='text'>binding.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Há coisas das quais eu não falo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Não porque eu não queira falar delas, mas porque me arrependia se o fizesse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Especialmente dado as pessoas que o poderiam ler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;E se às vezes nem tudo o que parece é, neste caso mais do que o que parece é realidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://whi.s3.prod.lg1x8.simplecdn.net/images/1815364/tumblr_kxqwmanU6f1qaeef0o1_500_large.jpg?1270009882" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://whi.s3.prod.lg1x8.simplecdn.net/images/1815364/tumblr_kxqwmanU6f1qaeef0o1_500_large.jpg?1270009882" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://gluttony-.tumblr.com/"&gt;------&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Ok. Estou a desviar-me do assunto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;O ponto é: às vezes é dificíl falar de certas coisas, não só para mim claro, mas para muita gente no mundo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Mas se não falarmos, pode ser ainda pior. Ficar a pensar na mesma coisa durante muito tempo numa só perspectiva torna tudo muito mais impossível e definitivo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Pensar (e viver) só dentro da nossa própria mente, faz com o sentido da realidade se perca. Nunca pensei que fosse possível mas é.&amp;nbsp;Estou só a dizer... Não se percam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ás vezes precisava de alguém com quem falar em silêncio...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8514357859691729984?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8514357859691729984/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8514357859691729984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8514357859691729984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8514357859691729984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/binding.html' title='binding.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5480358689156494549</id><published>2010-04-04T22:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T22:56:00.867+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>easter.</title><content type='html'>Tinha algo de interessante para falar hoje, mas não me lembro de todo o que era, com toda a história da Páscoa. Consegui escapar-me daquilo a que a minha carinhosamente denominou de tarde em familía, que consistia basicamente em ver a Idade do Gelo. Não, obrigado. Instead estive a ver Doctor Who e a comer Nerds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://assets4.lomography.com/576/384/02/1a9b6fe91e61eaf3e5b33bd617cce7fec941db.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://assets4.lomography.com/576/384/02/1a9b6fe91e61eaf3e5b33bd617cce7fec941db.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lomography.com/photos/1178066"&gt;---------&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje de manhã até me tinha levantado cedo com a intenção de trabalhar (ie ler o Memorial do Convento). Turns out que após uma hora, adormeci durante 2. Ou seja, acho que a esta velocidade nunca vou acabar. Acho que começo a perceber aquelas pessoas que não gostam de ler - o problema não é o acto em si, mas o livro (e este é mau demais). Só de pensar que o Will Grayson, Will Grayson sai já dia 6...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5480358689156494549?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5480358689156494549/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5480358689156494549&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5480358689156494549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5480358689156494549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/easter.html' title='easter.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-283787868286597900</id><published>2010-04-03T23:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T23:09:03.044+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>growth.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Easter. Tomorrow. Ugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://assets2.lomography.com/576/386/ce/1048974517dfac4582626bc2d082cc0c236085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://assets2.lomography.com/576/386/ce/1048974517dfac4582626bc2d082cc0c236085.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lomography.com/photos/11093109"&gt;-----&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os Blood Red Shoes vão ao Santiago Alquimista dia 11. Gostava de ir... Alguém vai?&lt;br /&gt;Odeio estar de férias em Lisboa quando mais ninguém cá está. É que nem para trocar mensagens dá... Sinto-me como se estivesse numa ilha ou whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje estive a fazer arrumações. Encontrei montes de porcaria antiga, incluindo montes de bilhetinhos que costumava mandar nas aulas do 6º ao 11º ano. Os senhores da reciclagem vão ficar contentes com o meu contributo avantajado de histórias da adolescência em papéis diminutos.&lt;br /&gt;Também encontrei uma quantidade elevada de bocados de jornais com noticías de Harry Potter, recibos dos livros, e até, para minha surpresa, um bilhete de cinema do primeiro filme (Sessão das 13:05 no Colombo). Mas isto já era de esperar e é sempre agradável - já as conversas ridículas sobre quem anda com quem no 7ºano em cores flurescentes e com cheiro a fruta nem tanto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ainda bem que as pessoas crescem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-283787868286597900?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/283787868286597900/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=283787868286597900&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/283787868286597900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/283787868286597900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/growth.html' title='growth.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7798915763035673265</id><published>2010-04-02T21:52:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T21:55:19.501+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>alone in Lisbon.</title><content type='html'>Porquê? Sim porque é que eu me comprometi a fazer isto? Nem sei.&lt;br /&gt;Vamos no segundo dia de Abril e não há nada de interessante para dizer: hoje é sexta-feira santa, feriado familiar ao qual eu não consigo escapar porque quase toda a gente que eu conheço ou está no Brasil ou noutra parte do Mundo (exclusive Lisboa).&lt;br /&gt;Por isso apetece-me apenas ficar aqui a olhar para o dia acabar e que amanhã se faça algo de melhor. Quero ver se acabo o rolo da Fisheye rapidamente para o revelar, ver se saiu alguma coisa de jeito. Já não estou nada habituada a máquinas analógicas, mas é muito mais entusiasmante do que as digitais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="250"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q5Vg6F48mA8&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q5Vg6F48mA8&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="250"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;nem acredito que vou ficar uma semana "isolada" do mundo. Por um lado apetece-me ficar a não fazer nada, a fazer um layout novo para isto, a ler e ver televisão e ficar mais do que relaxada para os meus 2 últimos meses de Ensino Secundário, ever. Por outro tenho uma ficha de matemática para fazer e o Memorial do Convento para ler, e infelizmente tenho que aproveitar esta semana para o fazer. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya tomorrow, lovelies &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7798915763035673265?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7798915763035673265/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7798915763035673265&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7798915763035673265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7798915763035673265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/alone-in-lisbon.html' title='alone in Lisbon.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-9093412354119961724</id><published>2010-04-01T23:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T23:22:35.343+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEDA'/><title type='text'>beda.</title><content type='html'>A última hora de dia 1 de Abril de 2010 já começou e eu apercebi-me que se não vou fazer VEDA (vlog everyday April) tenho que fazer BEDA pelo menos. Nem há desculpas para não o fazer nem que seja uma linha por dia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7UcBOjUfMI/AAAAAAAAAWw/DOmlrq6pmy8/s1600/Amsterdam+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7UcBOjUfMI/AAAAAAAAAWw/DOmlrq6pmy8/s320/Amsterdam+031.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje não há muito mais a dizer a não ser que adorei Amesterdão, especialmente as inevitáveis bicicletas, e finalmente arranjei uma Lomo Fisheye e estou in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7UcNk-tHkI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bJg29xMAgH0/s1600/Amsterdam+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7UcNk-tHkI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bJg29xMAgH0/s320/Amsterdam+076.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-9093412354119961724?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/9093412354119961724/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=9093412354119961724&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/9093412354119961724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/9093412354119961724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/04/beda.html' title='beda.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S7UcBOjUfMI/AAAAAAAAAWw/DOmlrq6pmy8/s72-c/Amsterdam+031.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3234878387872435755</id><published>2010-03-21T22:17:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-03-21T22:17:36.166Z</updated><title type='text'>dark.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kzn856KCRe1qaxjh5o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kzn856KCRe1qaxjh5o1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Why don’t you speak Effy? Doesn’t anyone ask you why? Doesn’t anybody care?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Michelle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Não tenho muito para dizer. Foi um fim-de-semana parado. Cada vez gosto mais de parar, ficar parada a pensar sem ninguém me chatear. E ás vezes tenho choques de energia. A vida está a tornar-se cada vez mais estranha por aqui... Toda a gente com medo de ir para a faculdade, eu sem dinheiro para ir para fora. Ás vezes gostava mesmo de desaparecer - esconder-me debaixo do edredon de manhã e ficar lá até estar cansada do escuro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, esta semana há festa de lançamento do Lua Nova, lovelies. Por isso se vivem na zona de Lisboa venham à Fnac entre as 21:30 e as 00:00 dizer olá (e quem sabe comprar o DVD?) que eu vou lá estar. Se for como das outras vezes vai ser divertido, por isso apareçam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="250" width="400"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HQb03ZMHpCA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HQb03ZMHpCA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="250"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;{currently addicted to Skins}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3234878387872435755?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3234878387872435755/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3234878387872435755&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3234878387872435755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3234878387872435755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-dont-you-speak-effy-doesnt-anyone.html' title='dark.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1348581472776382882</id><published>2010-02-18T20:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-02-18T20:39:10.796Z</updated><title type='text'>fresh grass.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4341505993_2c564b7c50_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4341505993_2c564b7c50_b.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And then the Spring came. And then the sun came.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And then all my problems floated away like they didn't matter anymore, my body became light, my feet entangling with the wet, fresh grass, in a never ending dream.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1348581472776382882?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1348581472776382882/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1348581472776382882&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1348581472776382882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1348581472776382882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/02/fresh-grass.html' title='fresh grass.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4341505993_2c564b7c50_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7632670358888920337</id><published>2010-02-18T20:28:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-02-18T20:29:36.039Z</updated><title type='text'>vegan.</title><content type='html'>Yep, that's right. A partir de amanhã é oficial, mas hoje já cortei toda a carne, leite, produtos derivados do leite e mel da minha alimentação. Ok, ao jantar ainda comi peixe, mas apenas porque não tinha nada preparado. This is pretty exciting, to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Podia ir aqui dar um sermão sobre os motivos pelos quais tomei essa decisão, mas acho que já todos ouviram esta lenga-lenga trezentas vezes, por isso resumindo, foi por motivos éticos, de preferência pessoal e de saúde. Vou continuar a fazer bolos normais &lt;a href="http://the-stage-of-my-life.blogspot.com/"&gt;para quem quiser&lt;/a&gt;, só não os vou comer :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7632670358888920337?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7632670358888920337/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7632670358888920337&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7632670358888920337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7632670358888920337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/02/vegan.html' title='vegan.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8349392201558707234</id><published>2010-02-13T22:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-02-13T22:14:14.539Z</updated><title type='text'>日の出。</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Abri os olhos, a escuridão repetiu-se perante eles, a imagem recorrente de quem não sabe o que fazer e que já não consegue procurar mais. Ao fundo da sala, a janela reflecte as sombras escuras da noite, o silêncio vibra sem escapatória possível. O frio vai-se acumulando, chegando a embrenhar-se na minha pele, até aos meus ossos, há medida que a manhã vai sendo descodificada.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;A paisagem magnificente do nascer do sol é interrompida pelo murmurinho descuidado da vida a acordar para um novo dia. E há medida que este vai crescendo, aumentando de volume, eu vou ficando mais isolada e o sol vai deixando o seu momento de glória para trás, acompanhando o movimento interminável que não consigo mais acompanhar.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="JA" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="JA" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;ありがとう&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8349392201558707234?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8349392201558707234/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8349392201558707234&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8349392201558707234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8349392201558707234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title='日の出。'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-27040904668548427</id><published>2010-02-12T20:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-02-12T20:58:02.951Z</updated><title type='text'>month.</title><content type='html'>Omg, it has been a month already?! It felt like a week.&lt;br /&gt;So many things to do, so little time left in between.&lt;br /&gt;E daqui a pouco Fevereiro chegou ao fim. Desculpem-me por não dar a devida atenção a isto. Eu sei que mereço ser castigada haha, mas por outro lado este ano é o meu último ano de secundário, e daí haver mais coisas para fazer. Por exemplo, estou a organizar o livro de curso na minha turma, o que não é nada de especial, &amp;nbsp; mas é uma actividade de 12ºano por isso... Overall, I guess que me estou a aperceber que este É o último ano que passo com estas pessoas e estou a 'aproveitar o momento'.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, este não vai ser o post mais incrivel do mundo, vai ser exactamente o oposto, mas prometo voltar brevemente até porque tenho andado a dar muitas voltas (mentais e fisícas, mas eu referia-me às primeiras).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-27040904668548427?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/27040904668548427/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=27040904668548427&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/27040904668548427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/27040904668548427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/02/month.html' title='month.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1956881450440574678</id><published>2010-01-16T19:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-01-16T19:39:20.727Z</updated><title type='text'>real me.</title><content type='html'>Há uns tempos atrás participei num projecto de uns amigos meus chamado "O Homem Pássaro", o qual consiste de uma publicação de uma revista mensal online.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, eu fui escritora convidada no mês de Novembro com este texto:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Já há muito que as cores não eram tão vividas, que os sons não eram tão claros, que eu não estava viva. É fácil pensarmos todos a mesma coisa, vestirmos todos a mesma roupa, sermos todos produzidos em série. É difícil distinguir os sonhos da realidade, lutarmos por aquilo em que acreditamos, pelo que amamos. Há noites frias e escuras de Inverno que eu passeio pelas ruas e observo a dinâmica da vida dos outros – porque essa sempre foi mais interessante que a minha –, imagino de onde vêm, para onde vão… No fim são pessoas como eu. Têm vidas, família, cores preferidas, … Mas será que se lembram do que é ser?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;No autocarro, impessoal e malcheiroso, uma rapariga com um gorro branco está a ler um livro. Fico a observá-la: quem é, que tipo de pessoa é, em que escola anda, tem namorado? Provavelmente é alguém de quem os pais estão orgulhosos, com poucos amigos, mas bons, notas quase perfeitas, quer ser a melhor e tem sempre alguém especial que está disposto a ouvi-la. Às vezes queria ser essa rapariga, queria ser alguém de quem os meus pais têm orgulho, queria ser uma melhor amiga, uma melhor estudante. Talvez não fosse ‘eu’, mas seria certamente mais agradável para os outros.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Porém só quando ela retribui o olhar é que eu percebo que a vida que eu criei para ela não é verdadeira, assim como eu não sou quem ela pode imaginar. E por isso é que o meu passatempo indiscreto é tão interessante – aquela inocente rapariga podia até ter uma vida mais difícil que a minha mas na minha imaginação ela será sempre alguém que eu quero ser.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;É difícil ser-se alguém quando todos nos pressionem para sermos a mesma pessoa. A pessoa certa. Mas qual é a pessoa certa? Existe uma resposta para isso? Após 17 anos da minha vida, olho para trás e vejo que me deixei enganar pela vida. E agora, o que é que tenho para oferecer? Nada. Tenho-me a mim, a uma pessoa real, a uma pessoa verdadeira. É mais do que muitos têm, mas não é suficiente. Todos esperam algo diferente de mim, até eu espero algo diferente de mim... Mesmo assim, no fim do dia, deitada a observar as estrelas no céu escuro de Inverno tudo o que eu tenho é esperança e lágrimas e tudo o que eu quero, tudo o que todos queremos, é a verdade – e bem, possivelmente felicidade – mas raramente a encontramos. Não é fácil. Fácil é desistir de a procurar. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote style="text-align: right;"&gt;Retirado de &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://ohomempassaro.blogspot.com/2009/11/eis-segunda-edicao.html"&gt;O Homem Pássaro nº2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Eles ainda não têm muitos leitores, por isso se gostaram deviam dar uma vista de olhos no &lt;a href="http://ohomempassaro.blogspot.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; deles. Aconselho a começarem pelo nº1 porque há histórias que começaram nessa edição.&lt;br /&gt;E já agora obrigado a todas por me desejarem as melhoras! Resultou, já estou melhor e ansiosa por sair de casa (ao contrário de vocês hehe).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1956881450440574678?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1956881450440574678/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1956881450440574678&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1956881450440574678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1956881450440574678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/01/real-me.html' title='real me.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7792727724588299401</id><published>2010-01-14T21:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-01-14T21:24:08.034Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;e&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;stou doente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;uma semana em casa, como manda o atestado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;pensei que ia ficar mais feliz, mas está a ser uma seca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;eu sou tão ingrata. quantos de vocês não davam tudo para ter ficado esta semana chuvosa a dormir até tarde e a ver televisão...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;como aguém que eu conheço (eu) diria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;'a vida é uma merda, bem vindo ao clube'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7792727724588299401?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7792727724588299401/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7792727724588299401&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7792727724588299401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7792727724588299401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/01/e-stou-doente.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-240050243481354483</id><published>2010-01-14T21:01:00.007Z</published><updated>2010-01-14T21:24:58.125Z</updated><title type='text'>roadtrip.</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe frameborder="0" height="350" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" 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src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-240050243481354483?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/240050243481354483/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=240050243481354483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/240050243481354483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/240050243481354483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2010/01/view-larger-map-param-nameurl-value.html' title='roadtrip.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7150902689651490989</id><published>2009-12-10T22:53:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-12-10T22:53:36.678Z</updated><title type='text'>for ever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;O dia está cinzento, um típico dia de Inverno, o frio congela-me as mãos, duas ou três madeixas de cabelo a voar ao sabor da brisa gélida. As árvores já adquiriram a tonalidade avermelhada, o horizonte indistinguível toldado pelo nevoeiro intenso. Como sempre. O cheiro a canela, os dias curtos e a chuva frequente e intimidadora, já se manifestam. Como sempre. Dizem que o Inverno como nós o conhecemos vai dentro de poucos anos acabar, mas até lá os sinais de que a estação mais mágica do ano já chegou são um valor seguro, como sempre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;O vento toma um novo rumo, a neblina húmida envolvendo os meus pensamentos nostálgicos. Ainda me lembro de um dia, muitos dias atrás, me dizerem num dia como o de hoje, que os bons amigos são para sempre. Para sempre… Era uma promessa entusiasmante até que o primeiro dia da Primavera chegou e ‘o sempre’ passou a nunca mais, e essa foi provavelmente a promessa mais desapontante e a última em que eu acreditei tão inocentemente. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Não posso deixar de pensar que tudo o que é verdadeiramente bom, eventualmente acaba. Então qual é o objectivo de lutarmos por esses pequenos tesouros? No fim do dia, o mais importante são os bons momentos vividos, as experiências que jamais teríamos de outra maneira, as memórias que ficam para sempre. Não quero perder amizades, não claro que não, mas nem todos os laços são eternos.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;O céu está cada vez mais escuro, os chuviscos a tomar corpo e força, o vento mais do que uma inofensiva brisa obriga-me a manter os meus olhos semi-cerrados. Tudo parece girar à minha volta depressa demais por mais que eu queira prender cada segundo, eles escapam-me por entre os dedos. Não consigo deixar de pensar onde estarei daqui a um ano, onde estarão estas árvores, qual será o horizonte à minha frente, e enquanto fantasio sobre este mundo que está para vir esqueço-me de viver o presente convenientemente, aquele que vai constituir quem eu sou para sempre.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Sempre? Sempre. Ou nos comprometemos a viver cada momento e a relembrá-lo para sempre ou estamos a perder o nosso tempo aqui parados a ver o Mundo dar mais uma volta.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7150902689651490989?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7150902689651490989/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7150902689651490989&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7150902689651490989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7150902689651490989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/12/for-ever.html' title='for ever.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8760254109266537828</id><published>2009-12-07T17:32:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-12-07T22:23:24.496Z</updated><title type='text'>on the horizon</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="padding: 3px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/birdlike/"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sx1_jmBP2NI/AAAAAAAAAVo/MRl9nQkFic4/s320/728340602_feee7af5ab.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;th&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;ere could be good and bad things though it looks mostly pretty and desirable.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;there could be rainbows and storms though all I see is colorful dreams&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;in that line, whether it be blue, grey, pink or black,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;all I see is the non-ending happiness.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8760254109266537828?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8760254109266537828/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8760254109266537828&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8760254109266537828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8760254109266537828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/12/on-horizon.html' title='on the horizon'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sx1_jmBP2NI/AAAAAAAAAVo/MRl9nQkFic4/s72-c/728340602_feee7af5ab.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6766266523201731462</id><published>2009-12-06T22:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-12-06T22:50:33.535Z</updated><title type='text'>pre-moment.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;O fim está próximo. Eu sinto-o. É o momento de decidir entre a verdade e a mentira, o sonho e o pesadelo, a luz e a escuridão – quando os jogos acabam, quando não há mais sítios onde me esconder, quando as linhas da história se cruzam, quando o destino de todos nós é decidido. O momento está próximo, a sala está fria, o ar gélido e a tensão congelando os meus ossos e músculos. Arranjo-me melhor no meu lugar em cima do balcão, o pedaço de papel nas minhas mãos a tremer, ameaçando fugir a qualquer momento, pressentindo também ele a definitividade do momento. Perguntei-me várias vezes se isto seria mesmo necessário, se seria necessário destruir tudo aquilo que conheço, se seria necessário sair da minha zona de conforto. Por mais que me tentem convencer do contrário, não há volta a dar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Um barulho nas escadas, está aproximar-se. Uma torrente de emoções – medo, entusiasmo, nervosismo – afoga a minha respiração num ritmo descontrolado. Quero fugir. Fugir é o que eu faço melhor seja qual for a situação mas não tenho para onde fugir, é tarde demais, tenho de fazer isto. Tento inundar-me de pensamentos positivos, o porquê de eu estar a fazer isto, o que aconteceria se não o fizesse. Mas positivismo nunca foi o meu forte especialmente quando cada milésimo de segundo pode ser o último desta paz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;A porta abre-se, um vulto emerge apalpando por uma luz que lhe mostre que sou eu que me encontro nas sombras nocturnas da cozinha dura. Segundos depois toda a casa se encontra iluminada, mas dificilmente mais quente ou mais acolhedora ou mais positiva, apenas mais clara. Observo tudo isto do canto do olho, não preciso de me virar para saber quem vem aí, o que vai acontecer a seguir, para saber que lentamente um olhar fixante se vai tornando cada vez mais profundo na minha face esquerda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Não sou feita de pedra, ao contrário do que se possa pensar, pelo contrário. Se o fosse nada disto seria necessário, tudo teria acabado há muito tempo; mas sou uma pessoa, e como qualquer outro ser humano possuo algo muito irritante chamado esperança. Acredito que é por isso que ainda me dou ao trabalho, que ainda me esforço, que ainda luto, se não tivesse esperança nada disto faria sentido. Antes que me consiga pronunciar, pequenas bolsas de água que se formaram nos meus olhos, quebram-se, molhando a minha cara de água salgada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;‘Temos que falar.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Olho-a nos olhos. Ambas sabemos o que vai acontecer a seguir, não vale a pena negar. O mundo como nós o conhecemos está prestes a acabar – a verdade esclarecida, o sonho libertado, o amanhecer de uma nova guerra impressa neste destino que escolhi por todos nós. O fim está próximo, eu sei-o, o frio sabe-o, ela sabe-o, só falta saber quem o pronuncia primeiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Não tem muito sentido. Foi um momento que eu imaginei a acontecer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6766266523201731462?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6766266523201731462/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6766266523201731462&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6766266523201731462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6766266523201731462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/12/pre-moment.html' title='pre-moment.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2994258496344543455</id><published>2009-11-30T22:52:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-11-30T22:52:15.114Z</updated><title type='text'>God.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Antigamente eu costumava acreditar em Deus. Costumava acreditar, mais pela ideia de medo que a minha avó me incutia do que por outra coisa. Costumava simpatizar com os ideais, com o sentimento de comunidade. Quando o meu avô morreu pode-se dizer que foi o meu pico de religiosidade – rezar, missas aqui e ali, basicamente &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;the whole package&lt;/i&gt;. Antigamente, algumas coisas eram mais claras e outras definitivamente mais distorcidas, encobertas no pesado nevoeiro. Antigamente, porém, já lá vai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Se eu (se a maior parte das pessoas que se julgam crentes em Deus) pensasse nele apenas quando algo de bom acontecesse, poderia considerar-me crente. Se Deus existisse, eu sabê-lo-ia no meu íntimo – e para ser franca nunca existe mais convencida da sua não existência. Não digo que não exista – até pode existir – mas não peçam para ter fé em algo tão irreal. Eu tenho fé nas pessoas, aquelas que lutam todos os dias por mais um dia de vida, e ao menos essas, por pouco que façam no dia-a-dia, sempre são mais reais que Deus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;É difícil acreditar. Ultimamente é tudo tão difícil – acreditar, sonhar, esperar. Só não é difícil chorar e voar. Voar como um pequeno pássaro no seu primeiro voo inocente que não sabe melhor. Eu quero voar, voar mais alto, para longe. Mas e as pessoas? As que ficam cá em baixo, do tamanho de formigas, a ver-me voar – o que vão elas dizer, pensar, sentir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eu não acredito em Deus, nem agora e provavelmente nem no futuro próximo, mas se acreditasse pedia-lhe para me dar uma oportunidade, deixar-me voar independentemente de quem fica. Com esses já sofri o suficiente, agora falta deixar as lágrimas cair nas ondas que sobrevoo, preparar-me para enfrentar uma nova fase, uma nova folha em branco, um novo céu azul que não sabe de onde venho, quem fui (e nada lhe interessa) e aguarda para onde vou, quem quero ser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2994258496344543455?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2994258496344543455/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2994258496344543455&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2994258496344543455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2994258496344543455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/god.html' title='God.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2301816226074479701</id><published>2009-11-23T22:46:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-11-23T22:49:43.861Z</updated><title type='text'>still overwhelmed.</title><content type='html'>A história continua!&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo de não ser aceite numa faculdade em Inglaterra - ficar aqui em Lisboa, já para não falar da desilusão que ia ter, dava cabo de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo de ser aceite - apesar de ser muito independente e não ter medo de experimentar coisas novas, nunca mudei de escola (quanto mais de país) e 'abandonei' os amigos que sempre tive.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo...&lt;br /&gt;Era tudo muito mais fácil quando estava no 10º ano e tudo o que tinha de fazer era sonhar e ficar à espera que o tempo pasasse. Nem sequer queria saber se tinha uma nota menos boa aqui e ali (´Para a próxima é melhor. Há tempo, Catarina, relaxa'), agora não posso falhar (e hoje fui apanhada a jogar farmville na aula de área de projecto -.-).&lt;br /&gt;Já tenho uma carta de recomendação da minha stora de economia. Amanhã se tudo correr bem envio a minha inscrição. Daquilo que estive a ver na net, não vou ficar muito tempo à espera (mais ou menos 1 a 4 semanas, algumas pessoas tiveram resposta em 2 dias).&lt;br /&gt;Uma das universidades, &lt;a href="http://www2.warwick.ac.uk/"&gt;University Of Warwick&lt;/a&gt; (a minha primeira escolha), mandou-me um mail hoje a dizer que preciso de 18 a matemática, inglês e em média (ou pelo menos foi assim que aceitaram candidatos portugueses em anos anteriores). Consigo os dois primeiros, agora a média é que nem por isso. Já estou de olhinhos postos noutra - &lt;a href="http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/"&gt;University Of Nottingham&lt;/a&gt; - é na mesma zona e é linda ^^&lt;br /&gt;Estou feliz, de qualquer maneira - ao menos acho que isto é felicidade misturada com um pouco (grande) de ansiedade (quem seria eu sem os meus ataques de ansiedade).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2301816226074479701?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2301816226074479701/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2301816226074479701&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2301816226074479701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2301816226074479701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/still-overwhelmed.html' title='still overwhelmed.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8494673732001689657</id><published>2009-11-22T19:10:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-11-22T19:11:26.888Z</updated><title type='text'>confessions.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #555555; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;SCHOOL CONFESSIONS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;[ ] Talked back to a teacher.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Been kicked out of a class.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Worn your pyjamas to school.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Had your tooth fall out during school.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Gotten yourself lost in your school.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Broken the dress code in your school.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Completely and utterly failed a test.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Left your class without asking anybody.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Missed a whole week of school for something stupid.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Thrown up your lunch in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;HOME LIFE CONFESSIONS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Argue with your parents a lot.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Argue with your brother[s] a lot.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Argue with your sister[s] a lot.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Do your own laundry.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Cook dinner once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Are loud and obnoxious at home.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Wear pajamas when you are not going to go anywhere&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You sleep in very long.&lt;br /&gt;[x] All you do is watch television/go on the internet.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Your parents are divorced.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Your family makes you cry a lot&lt;br /&gt;[ ] One or both of your grandparents live with you.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You can’t stand being with your parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FRIEND CONFESSIONS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You currently dislike one or more of your friends.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You are jealous of one or more of your friends.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have known a friend your whole life.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Your friends are all taller than you.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have been ditched by a friend.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have memorized a friends phone number.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have lost/forgotten a friends phone number.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have been to most of your friends houses.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love most of your friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;HABIT CONFESSIONS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You bite your nails.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You have an odd obsession with knives.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You cannot sleep with the door closed.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You cannot sleep with the door open&lt;br /&gt;[ ] There is at least one sound you cannot stand.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You write stories about mad cannibalistic serial killers&lt;br /&gt;[x] You are good at telling lies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;LOVE CONFESSIONS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You currently like/love someone.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You want to kill one of your exs.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You can stay committed for an unusually long time&lt;br /&gt;[x] You get bored of your crush/bf/gf easily.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] A crush/bf/gf has called you self-centered before.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Your ex has dumped you for another girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PERSONAL OPINION CONFESSIONS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ ] You hate George Bush.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Abortion is horrible and should be illegal.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Gay marriage is fine by you.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Boys make better friends than girls do.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Pink is an ugly color.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Needles aren’t so horrible.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Human flesh tastes like fine aged veal&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have plenty of secrets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;“HAVE YOU EVER” CONFESSIONS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Fallen up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Had your shoelaces tied together.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Had a nail fall off.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Captured, Manipulated, or Destroyed a soul.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Slapped someone across the face.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Killed someone.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Worn something inside out for a whole day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #555555; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #555555; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;Copy-paste e ponham as vossas respostas no vosso blog (:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8494673732001689657?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8494673732001689657/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8494673732001689657&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8494673732001689657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8494673732001689657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/confessions.html' title='confessions.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3263768846532270903</id><published>2009-11-19T21:10:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-11-19T21:12:06.159Z</updated><title type='text'>overwhelmed.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;o pretty, so smart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Such a waste of a young heart!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What a pity, what a sham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What’s the matter with you, man?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: separate; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I’m a satellite heart, lost in the dark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I’m spun out so far, you stop, I start&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But I’ll be true to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Life? Overwhelming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Lately, tenho andado embrenhada em sites e mais sites de universidades, &amp;nbsp;inscrições para as mesmas,&amp;nbsp;'personal statements', ... O mais irritante é que só agora me apercebi da importância de estar sempre no meu melhor (de facto, apetece-me bater a mim própria pela minha indiferença nos últimos dois anos). Nunca senti a motivação e agora sempre que penso que posso não entrar em lado nenhum em Inglaterra tenho uma ataque de pânico.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;They say i haven’t slept in weeks, you’re the only thing i see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;O que é que vocês fariam? Se tudo aquilo com que sonharam desde pequenos se desfizesse nas 5 milésimas de segundo que leva a abrir um site no qual, em principío em Maio 2010, estaram as negações que eu não posso deixar de esperar (porque sejamos honestos, não sou má aluna, mas devido á minha atitude de 'estou-me nas tintas' não sou nada de especial também).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Tenho medo. Tenho tanto medo.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Tenho medo de não ser aceite - não sei o que faria, ficaria perdida, provavelmente ía-me completamente abaixo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Tenho medo de ser aceite - porque verdade seja dita, apesar de querer sair daqui, ir para Inglaterra e ter a maturidade suficiente para tal, vou de facto deixar a minha vida inteira para trás. Tenho direito ao meu receio, certo? E, á medida que o ano vai progredindo, ouço falar de 'esta é a última vez que...', 'para o ano vamos estar na faculdade!', 'daqui a um ano...', entre outras, e o que seria uma dificuldade razoável torna-se numa dificuldade que até para mim (rainha da independência e da adaptabilidade, espero que não se importem com a minha adopção do título) começa a ser um pouco elevada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Só queria desabafar isto. De certeza que vão ouvir-me falar MUITO mais deste assunto no futuro, especialmente se for aceite (espero tanto que sim, espero tanto... sinceramente não há nada que eu queira mais), e se o for prometo continuar este blog from the UK!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;lt;3 you always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;quotes: Satellite Heart by Anya Marina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3263768846532270903?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3263768846532270903/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3263768846532270903&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3263768846532270903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3263768846532270903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/s-o-pretty-so-smart-such-waste-of-young.html' title='overwhelmed.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-117873854134831578</id><published>2009-11-15T20:36:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-11-15T20:37:37.595Z</updated><title type='text'>failowrimo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px;"&gt;'&lt;/span&gt; In a speeding car in the highway you can’t really feel the time passing by – only the clock hands moving – or the speed – you can only see the trees passing you by in blurs. But if there’s something you can be in a speeding car is in pain; dreadful, depressing pain. There’s no way out – you can’t just leave and slam the door, you can’t yell and then hide the tears in the bathroom, you can’t kill yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;It started out as a hot autumn night, I was so happy. I hadn’t been that happy for long time, I remember that, and even then I wasn’t nearly as happy as I should have been. Had I been less mature, less responsible, less self-conscious, less aware, and I would have been happier. It all started out because a part of me felt lighter, freer – and if I had to take a wild guess I’d say it was due to that look we shared just for a few seconds, it liberated me, and before I would have said it had liberated him as well. '&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Beginning&amp;nbsp;and a paragraph towards the ending of my NaNoWriMo (my favorite parts so far), which is currently more like, FailoWriMo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-117873854134831578?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/117873854134831578/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=117873854134831578&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/117873854134831578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/117873854134831578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/failowrimo.html' title='failowrimo.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4269819414580777804</id><published>2009-11-13T22:01:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-11-13T22:46:10.967Z</updated><title type='text'>i love the internet.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sv3W9ArYMvI/AAAAAAAAAVI/0VPGTZioS_8/s1600-h/sexbday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sv3W9ArYMvI/AAAAAAAAAVI/0VPGTZioS_8/s640/sexbday.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;sexta à noite no omegle.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;hey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;hey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;so... james?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;yeah howd u know?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;I guessed... I'm lily&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;potter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;: O&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;my love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;i cant believe we only did it once, we never had the chance to give birth to harriet potter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;I feel the same... you wanna get together now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;:P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;fo sho biatch&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;great. maybe we could call sirius too?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="strangermsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stranger:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;nah that guys a downer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="youmsg" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="msgsource" style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;hmm okay. anyone you would like to invite?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="logitem" style="padding-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;div class="statuslog" style="color: #555555; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;"&gt;Your conversational partner has disconnected.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4269819414580777804?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4269819414580777804/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4269819414580777804&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4269819414580777804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4269819414580777804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-internet.html' title='i love the internet.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sv3W9ArYMvI/AAAAAAAAAVI/0VPGTZioS_8/s72-c/sexbday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2531074703333879937</id><published>2009-11-06T14:29:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-11-06T16:17:04.045Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A FNAC e a ZON LUSOMUNDO estão a preparar uma festa de lançamento do DVD mais aguardado deste ano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HARRY POTTER E O PRÍNCÍPE MISTERIOSO&lt;br /&gt;DIA 16 DE NOVEMBRO NA FNAC COLOMBO&lt;br /&gt;ENTRE AS 10H00 E AS 24H00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Seja um dos primeiros a adquirir Harry Potter e o Príncipe Misterioso&lt;br /&gt;- Ganha prémios especiais e exclusivos Harry Potter&lt;br /&gt;- Vem assistir na loja aos filmes Harry Potter 1 a 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGENDA DO EVENTO&lt;br /&gt;- 10:00h – Maratona de Filmes Harry Potter da maratona HP: exibição dos filmes HP1 ao HP5. &lt;br /&gt;- 22:30h – Visionamento de entrevistas exclusivas apresentadas por Mário Augusto &lt;br /&gt;- 23:00h – Revelação de extras inéditos de Harry Potter e o Príncipe Misterioso  &lt;br /&gt;- 23:15h – Caça aos Horcrux  &lt;br /&gt;- 23:45h – Desfile dos Caracterizados   &lt;br /&gt;- 24:00h – Início das vendas com oferta exclusiva de 2 frames originais do filme em 35mm (Edição Numerada e Limitada) com certificado de autenticidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRÉMIOS:&lt;br /&gt;Todos os prémios serão entregues no acto de compra do DVD ou BLU-RAY do filme HARRY POTTER E O PRÍNCIPE MISTERIOSO&lt;br /&gt;Caso não se verifique o acto de compra a atribuição do(s) prémio(s) não será válida&lt;br /&gt;Os primeiros 10 Maratonistas recebem 1 colecção de 5 BLU-RAY correspondentes aos filmes HP 1-5&lt;br /&gt;Será fornecido um cartão aos maratonistas que depois de validado e entregue no acto de compra do HP6 em DVD ou BLU-RAY, vale o prémio acima indicado&lt;br /&gt;Caça aos Horcrux (oferta de prémios surpresa).&lt;br /&gt;Os 3 participantes melhor caracterizados de acordo com o universo de Harry Potter recebem 1 colecção de 5 BLU-RAY correspondentes aos filmes HP 1-5  &lt;br /&gt;OFERTA LIMITADA &lt;br /&gt;2 Frames Originais do Filme em 35mm (Edição Numerada e Limitada) com certificado de autenticidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta oferta é válida em exclusivo para quem adquirir Harry Potter e o Príncipe Misterioso em Blu-Ray ou DVD no dia 16 de Novembro à meia-noite.&lt;br /&gt;Os clientes Fnac.online que desejarem participar na festa de lançamento poderão solicitar a entrega do seu DVD ou Blu-Ray para a Fnac Colombo e também beneficiarão desta oferta suplementar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para mais informações, entrem em contacto com a Fnac, através do e-mail colombo@fnac.pt&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2531074703333879937?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2531074703333879937/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2531074703333879937&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2531074703333879937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2531074703333879937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/11/fnac-e-zon-lusomundo-estao-preparar-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6873448844333149283</id><published>2009-10-25T20:57:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-10-25T20:57:26.338Z</updated><title type='text'>can't get it right today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/e_YZQdVXkUw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/e_YZQdVXkUw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6873448844333149283?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6873448844333149283/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6873448844333149283&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6873448844333149283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6873448844333149283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/cant-get-it-right-today.html' title='can&apos;t get it right today.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7547792604473732462</id><published>2009-10-25T20:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-10-25T20:25:50.005Z</updated><title type='text'>new in class.</title><content type='html'>knock-knock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Hai! Isto por aqui tem estado um bocado abandonado. Eu culpo o tempo, que é pouco e não trás inspiração, porque se não for o tempo, a culpa é toda minha.&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã tenho o meu último teste da primeira 'fase', depois é descanso, ir ás compras e, claro, agora as aulas de ballet. Espero não parecer ridicula, mas estou entusiasmada com o projecto e o meu novo objectivo é ter autorização para fazer pontas.&lt;br /&gt;Para além do mais, não sou a única na turma que já tem uma certa idade (= já está no secundário pelo menos), há mais 3 raparigas e acho que algumas delas são até mais velhas do que eu (ao menos a minha mãe já não pode gozar comigo por ter 17 anos e voltar para o Ballet --')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É giro começar coisas novas. Com o passar do tempo deixamos de reparar nisso, mantemos-nos sempre a fazer as mesmas coisas, com as mesmas pessoas, nunca saímos muito da nossa zona de comforto nem nos aventuramos por aí além (pelo menos a maior parte das pessoas). Reparei nisso quando fui a uma mini aula para saber se me podia inscrever: primeiro não fazia a miníma do que é que ía acontecer (acabei a ser a única na turma a dançar de calças de ganga - yhey me!) e depois também não sabia quem é que ía encontrar. Tanto quanto eu sabia podia ser só eu e 20 crianças entre os 5 e os 10 histéricas. Mas tive sorte (acho) e enquanto as crianças saltavam e riam e faziam coisas estranhas que as crianças dessa idade fazem (eu tenho uma certa alergia a crianças quando são muitas), nós trocávamos olhares. Ou melhor, eu trocava olhares, porque elas pareceram-me todas um bocado timídas. Nem quando foi para juntar a pares, a Camila (? ou era Clarissa? não sou boa para nomes... era a que estava atrás de mim na barra) disse nada, eu olhei para ela e ela para mim e pronto ficamos juntas. Weird, right? Mas pensando bem, provavelmente elas também foram naquela de que podiam encontrar só crianças e ficaram surpreendidas...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei, vou tentar descobrir mais amanhã (e tentar decorar os nomes delas também).&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto tenho que me dedicar ao Pessoa, ou amanhã vou entrar em pânico.&lt;br /&gt;Bom inicío de semana meninas &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7547792604473732462?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7547792604473732462/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7547792604473732462&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7547792604473732462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7547792604473732462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-in-class.html' title='new in class.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6977260022161271747</id><published>2009-10-13T22:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T22:03:16.502+01:00</updated><title type='text'>nanowrimo.</title><content type='html'>Sinceramente tenho andado pouco inspirada. Acho que é do tempo. Demasiado quente. Já era tempo de começar a chover e a fazer frio como deve ser...&amp;nbsp;Odeio estar em aulas com calor, afinal não é por acaso que as escolas fecham no VERÃO e não no Inverno, mas enfim.&lt;br /&gt;Mudando de assunto. NaNoWriMo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/files/main/images/nano_09_red_participant_120x240.png.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.nanowrimo.org/files/main/images/nano_09_red_participant_120x240.png.png" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Era o que eu queria falar. Vou participar e vocês (pelos menos quem sabe escrever em inglês que eu acho que são vocês todas :P) também deviam. O objectivo é escrever um livro no mês de Novembro - 30 dias, 50000 palavras. O mais importante é quantidade e não qualidade, portanto não é preciso preocuparem-se se o que escreveram está bem, mas simplesmente, escreverem.&lt;br /&gt;Eu que estou sempre a adiar escrever coisas muito grandes porque acho que ou não estão bem escritas ou vou ficar uma eternidade a escrevê-las vou aproveitar a oportunidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Portanto... http://www.nanowrimo.org/&amp;nbsp;e&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/523789"&gt;http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/523789&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6977260022161271747?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6977260022161271747/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6977260022161271747&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6977260022161271747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6977260022161271747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/nanowrimo.html' title='nanowrimo.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1150931093542990171</id><published>2009-10-09T23:12:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T23:12:33.153+01:00</updated><title type='text'>opportunities.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/i_4bQezXbgs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/i_4bQezXbgs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1150931093542990171?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1150931093542990171/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1150931093542990171&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1150931093542990171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1150931093542990171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/opportunities.html' title='opportunities.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3900278545753834634</id><published>2009-10-03T09:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T09:53:20.775+01:00</updated><title type='text'>holding on.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="295" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2o5_WPB0d_4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2o5_WPB0d_4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;A million and one thousand things are screaming in my head&lt;br /&gt;And I can't seem to forget&lt;br /&gt;Can't stop thinking about you&lt;br /&gt;I could ride across the sky in a bicycle built for two&lt;br /&gt;Could you teach me how to ride&lt;br /&gt;Like you taught me how to feel alive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a single day goes by when I don't wish for you to watch me pause to find the words to steal your heart away&lt;br /&gt;But I play every word back round and round to try and find a clue you might have left behind to say you feel the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I know&lt;br /&gt;I'll never be your Leo&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep holding on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A hundred and three thousand ghosts are laughing in my dream&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are failing me&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere I look I see you&lt;br /&gt;I could bake a chocolate cake for you with tiers up to the moon&lt;br /&gt;Could you show me how it's done&lt;br /&gt;Like you showed me how to fall in love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll never see that I'm the one who never left you when you needed me to cry to cos your heart got broke again&lt;br /&gt;So I'll play until the strings on my guitar give out and I'll be aching from the pain of trying to pretend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I know&lt;br /&gt;I'll never be your Leo&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep holding on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A million and one thousand things are screaming in my head&lt;br /&gt;And I can't seem to forget&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;by Alex Day (aka Nerimon)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Parrot Stories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3900278545753834634?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3900278545753834634/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3900278545753834634&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3900278545753834634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3900278545753834634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/holding-on.html' title='holding on.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4542683442810182774</id><published>2009-10-03T09:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T09:52:09.764+01:00</updated><title type='text'>october.</title><content type='html'>E mais um mês começou.&lt;br /&gt;Estou agora a começar a aperceber-me que este É o meu último ano de secundário. Para o ano vai ser algo completamente diferente.&amp;nbsp;Gostava de ter algo inspirador para dizer, normalmente até me saiu com alguma coisa filosófica, mas desta vez não. Não sei. Ainda estou a pensar, a imaginar, a fantasiar no que vai ser o próximo ano, e à velocidade que o tempo está a passar, este mês que ainda agora começou vai acabar e depois vem Novembro (NEW MOON! :D:D:D:D) e depois Dezembro, o Natal, um novo ano, e sem me dar por isso já acabei o secundário (e o mais provável é não ter aproveitado nada).&lt;br /&gt;E pronto. Mais um mês começou e as nossas vidas continuam e muitos outros hão de vir. Só queria mesmo dizer isso... Nunca se sabe se será este mês ou qualquer outro que mudará a nossa vida ou será o melhor de sempre, mas para descobrirmos.. só mesmo se o vivermos.&lt;br /&gt;Ok eu acho que já não estou a fazer muito sentido por isso... Adeus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4542683442810182774?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4542683442810182774/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4542683442810182774&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4542683442810182774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4542683442810182774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/october.html' title='october.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7574243374314065704</id><published>2009-10-02T22:08:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T22:08:36.608+01:00</updated><title type='text'>sick.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MQnsZNSdAwI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MQnsZNSdAwI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7574243374314065704?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7574243374314065704/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7574243374314065704&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7574243374314065704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7574243374314065704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/sick.html' title='sick.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8872627760866138051</id><published>2009-09-28T22:26:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T22:46:36.945+01:00</updated><title type='text'>so lost.</title><content type='html'>Uma lágrima cai nos meus dedos gelados, a brisa traz o inverno consigo e sopra no meu cabelo solto. É a minha estação do ano preferida, a chuva ameaça cair, eu sinto-me comfortável no meu próprio desconforto frio.&lt;br /&gt;Porque é que esta lágrima cai? Porque me sinto perdida. Qual o meu caminho, para onde vou a seguir, o que vai acontecer amanhã? É dificil tomar decisões em relação ao futuro, é ainda mais dificil viver com elas. Tenho medo, não sei onde estou nem para onde vou e sinto-me fraca demais para enfrentar o desconhecido agora.&lt;br /&gt;Vozes, outros, dizem-me para continuar em frente, que eu consigo. Mas será que consigo? Ultimamente pergunto muito mais do que afirmo. Quero estar sozinha, fechar os olhos com força e esperar que tudo se desvaneça num dia mais claro.&lt;br /&gt;Estou tão perdida... Acredita quando te digo, brisa. Estou mesmo. Desta vez mais do que nunca. E não é algo que uma simples bússola resolva, isto é sério. Sinto que o passar dos segundos se torna mais ameaçador, mais rápido, mais permanente, e eu sem a mais pequena ideia de que atalho tomar.&lt;br /&gt;Diz-me - será muito mau se eu continuar a pairar aqui? Neste momento, neste sitío, do qual nem gosto, mas que pelo menos não parece ser tão permanente como outro qualquer. Ficar aqui, fechar os olhos para sempre, deixar a vida passar-me à frente sem preocupações, até estar pronta para enfrentar o que quer que seja que venha a seguir.&amp;nbsp;Pensando bem não parece assim tão mau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É que eu sinto-me tão perdida, brisa... Leva-me contigo, para um sitío onde não tenha de pensar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-xVw_gFzDXM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-xVw_gFzDXM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8872627760866138051?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8872627760866138051/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8872627760866138051&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8872627760866138051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8872627760866138051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-lost.html' title='so lost.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5470295743066057398</id><published>2009-09-20T01:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T01:20:07.150+01:00</updated><title type='text'>void.</title><content type='html'>Pensei muito sobre este post/texto/pensamento. A verdade &amp;#233; que tive muito boas ideias nestes &amp;#250;ltimos dias, e se conseguir hei-de explor&amp;#225;-las todas, mas nenhuma me pareceu t&amp;#227;o...urgente como esta. Uma amiga minha fez anos, eu fui ao jantar dela, e bem, voltei para casa, e s&amp;#243; nessa altura (agora) comecei a pensar em algo muito caracterist&amp;#237;co daquela que foi uma das poucas melhores amigas que j&amp;#225; tive: os &amp;#39;cumprimentos&amp;#39;.&lt;br&gt;Normalmente quando digo ol&amp;#225; ou me despe&amp;#231;o de algu&amp;#233;m, evito o m&amp;#225;ximo contacto (por nenhum motivo em especial) com dois beijinhos r&amp;#225;pidos. Com ela n&amp;#227;o. Beijinhos nem s&amp;#227;o necess&amp;#225;rios, mas mais abra&amp;#231;os. N&amp;#227;o sei se &amp;#233; com toda a gente, ou s&amp;#243; comigo, mas naquele momento (que at&amp;#233; nem &amp;#233; nada curto) em que n&amp;#243;s nos abra&amp;#231;amos, eu penso.&lt;br&gt;Nem me lembro agora no que penso na maior parte deles, mas aquele momento silencioso com a minha amiga, aquela que sabia tudo o que se passava na minha vida, as m&amp;#250;sicas que eu gostava, o que eu pensava, &amp;#233; incomparavel com qualquer outro. E ao mesmo tempo descomfort&amp;#225;vel.&lt;br&gt;N&amp;#227;o sei explicar. E isso &amp;#233; triste, porque a minha n&amp;#227;o h&amp;#225; tanto tempo melhor amiga est&amp;#225; longe e eu estou a deixar esses la&amp;#231;os desvanecerem-se no tempo. &amp;#201; horr&amp;#237;vel, &amp;#233; como se uma parte de mim, todos aqueles momentos de abra&amp;#231;os se estilhasassem em bocados pequeninos no nosso mais recente abra&amp;#231;o de despedida.&lt;br&gt;Todas aquelas mem&amp;#243;rias, muitos os melhores dias da minha vida perdidos no espa&amp;#231;o indefinido que se tem vindo surrepticiamente a formar entre n&amp;#243;s.&lt;br&gt;Sinceramente, tenho que admitir que se eu me achava deprimida, agora sou-o muito mais.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;p.s.-desculpem a espontaneidade disto, erros ortogr&amp;#225;ficos e se este post n&amp;#227;o foi bem o que estavam &amp;#224; espera. &amp;#193;s vezes acontecem coisas das quais temos que desabafar, penso que todos compreendem isso. Xoxo, cate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5470295743066057398?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5470295743066057398/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5470295743066057398&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5470295743066057398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5470295743066057398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/void.html' title='void.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7095064732839891207</id><published>2009-09-17T22:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T22:35:12.349+01:00</updated><title type='text'>selo.</title><content type='html'>A adorável &lt;a href="http://alwaysblueandyellow.blogspot.com/"&gt;alwaysblueandyellow &lt;/a&gt;presenteou-me com este selinho. Se ainda não foram ao blog dela devem ir, não sabem o que estão a perder... ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;1. Selo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xFhlwVK4OWM/Sqpd4g_2G9I/AAAAAAAAApI/4sHRZvi2_kY/s1600/blog_frescura%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xFhlwVK4OWM/Sqpd4g_2G9I/AAAAAAAAApI/4sHRZvi2_kY/s320/blog_frescura%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;2.Link de quem enviou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://alwaysblueandyellow.blogspot.com/"&gt;alwaysblueandyellow&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;3.Passar a oito pessoas e avisar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://the-stage-of-my-life.blogspot.com/"&gt;Inês&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://breathingfeelings.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hermione&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://cascasdelaranja.blogspot.com/"&gt;pudim.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://maryanne1990.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mariana&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://watermelonlifelove.blogspot.com/"&gt;T. Sofy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a-way-of-freedom.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rita&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://capri-diary.blogspot.com/"&gt;Capri&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sweetloveletters.blogspot.com/"&gt;Alison&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Bem por agora é tudo, espero que o início das aulas esteja a ser bom para todas :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7095064732839891207?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7095064732839891207/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7095064732839891207&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7095064732839891207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7095064732839891207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/selo.html' title='selo.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xFhlwVK4OWM/Sqpd4g_2G9I/AAAAAAAAApI/4sHRZvi2_kY/s72-c/blog_frescura%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-394216858918907848</id><published>2009-09-14T21:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:18:10.648+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twilight'/><title type='text'>omg. epic. win.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="340" width="560"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HlNiDE6sxNY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HlNiDE6sxNY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love it, adore it, rewatch it.&lt;br /&gt;Faint.&lt;br /&gt;Não posso esperar nem mais um segundo por dia 26/11. Vou morrer até lá...&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto estou a pensar num tema para um novo texto e hei-de arranjar um tempinho para vos comentar a todas. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-394216858918907848?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/394216858918907848/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=394216858918907848&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/394216858918907848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/394216858918907848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/omg-epic-win.html' title='omg. epic. win.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2744925755610706509</id><published>2009-09-09T22:15:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T22:36:07.824+01:00</updated><title type='text'>bruises.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A chuva cai em grande força lá fora, fora da minha janela, fora do meu espaço fechado, do meu comforto seco e seguro. Mas abrir os olhos e vê-la lá fora, faz-me sentir mais segura. Faz-me sonhar de dias chuvosos e frios, e que mesmo assim são luminosos e quentes, pedaços de pequenos grandes momentos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A chuva cai, as pessoas lá fora correm, o chão reflecte a água, que cada vez bate mais e mais, e com mais força. E enquanto que as pessoas fogem desta pressão, para um sitío mais seguro e seco como aquele em que eu estou agora, as pedras, o alcatrão, persistem e persistem. Aguentam mais uma tempestade, mais um libertar de fúria vindo do céu. E lutam, e continuam a ficar fortes, a aguentar a pressão da chuva, por mais dificíl que seja. Por muito doloroso que seja, por mais nódoas negras que isso deixe, elas são fiéis e fortes, aguentam seja o que for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ás vezes sinto-me assim. Como se fosse uma pedra da calçada, e suporto tudo o que vier contra mim, mantenho-me em pé, fecho os olhos e enfrento seja o que for. Mas nem sempre é fácil, olhar para trás e ver as nódoas negras que ser forte deixa. É bom ter um refúgio. Um lugar seguro em que podemos simplesmente respirar fundo, tirar o peso do mundo de cima de nós, deixar as lágrimas cair e que outra pessoa seja forte para nós por uns momentos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A_U6iSAn_fY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A_U6iSAn_fY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2744925755610706509?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2744925755610706509/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2744925755610706509&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2744925755610706509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2744925755610706509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title='bruises.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6513662288553433850</id><published>2009-09-06T23:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T23:37:05.845+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='felicidade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>liberdade.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ontem estive a passear pela Av. da Liberdade á noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Por mais incrível que pareça (especialmente tendo em conta que é a rua mais poluída de Lisboa) isto teve um efeito relaxante em mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;As pessoas em pequenos grupos aqui e ali, paradas a conversar; os carros que rapidamente atravessam a rua de uma ponta à outra, deixando apenas uma côr desfocada e uma brisa para trás; as lojas, grandes, luxuosas, brilhantes e as árvores grandes que protegem as suas montras e que misturadas com as luzes de rua, tornam tudo tão irreal. Parece um pequeno mundo imaginado e, não ligando aos sem-abrigo, faz com que todos os problemas desapareçam da minha mente, dando lugar simplesmente a um sorriso, uma gargalhada abafada, um olhar brilhante, irradiando despreocupação e felicidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Se existem micro-climas, então existem micro-momentos, e este foi um deles. Naquela Avenida poluída, ainda que resplandescente; movimentada, ainda que única; eu posso imaginar que o mundo é perfeito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6513662288553433850?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6513662288553433850/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6513662288553433850&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6513662288553433850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6513662288553433850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/liberdade.html' title='liberdade.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2035796291817073806</id><published>2009-09-06T23:13:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T23:13:31.396+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your result for The Chakra Test...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h4&gt;The Artistic One&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;p&gt;You have scored  89% Expression  - Your dominant Chakra is the "Throat or Blue Chakra"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cdn.okcimg.com/php/load_okc_image.php/images/0x0/0x0/0/1577146117275647023.gif" width="165" height="147" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;The "Throat or &lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Chakra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" is where the energy for communication and self expression originates from. It is located - as one may easily assume by its name - in one's throat. And this is the chakra which is most developed in you at this time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Depending on your percentage score, there is always more room for development. When this chakra is under-active, you may stop speaking, become introverted and shy, and not be willing to communicate and express yourself. In many cases this may be due to your fear of speaking the truth. If over-active and out of balance with your other chakras, you may tend to become domineering, and also distance yourself from others. Your talents can suffer greatly when this chakra is out of balance.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is most important is to find balance amongst all 7 chakras. Have a look at what percentages you scored on the others and work to increase their power and balance with each other.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Root Chakra: 47% Passion&lt;/span&gt;,  &lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Sacral(Spleen) Chakra: 65% Desire&lt;/span&gt;,  &lt;span style="color:#f8f306;"&gt;Solar Plexus (Navel) Chakra: 59% Purpose&lt;/span&gt;,  &lt;span style="color:#33ff00;"&gt;Heart Chakra: 67% Balance&lt;/span&gt;,  &lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Throat Chakra: 89% Expression&lt;/span&gt;,  &lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Third Eye Chakra: 18% Imagination&lt;/span&gt; and  &lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;Crown Chakra: 47% Spirituality!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Throat Chakra" Key Words:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Communication, Speech, Trust, Creative Expression, Planning, Spatial, Organization, Caution&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#16e877;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Throat &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; Chakra"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Attributes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; Color - &lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Blue&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sense - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Hearing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Element - &lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Either&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00ff00;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; Seat -&lt;span style="color:#16e877;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#16e877;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00ccff;"&gt;Creative expression, communication&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you enjoyed this test, I would love the feedback!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/the-chakra-test-1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;             Take The Chakra Test&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.helloquizzy.com/"&gt;&lt;b style="color:#131313"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ac000c"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;ello&lt;span style="color:#ac000c"&gt;Q&lt;/span&gt;uizzy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2035796291817073806?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2035796291817073806/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2035796291817073806&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2035796291817073806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2035796291817073806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/09/your-result-for-chakra-test.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1189047025752501988</id><published>2009-08-31T22:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T22:21:17.062+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music monday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>alternative music monday.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i261.photobucket.com/albums/ii42/lovelyaddict330/pic30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i261.photobucket.com/albums/ii42/lovelyaddict330/pic30.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;L&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;istening to:&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://ilistentoeverything.com/"&gt; I LISTEN TO EVERYTHING&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1189047025752501988?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1189047025752501988/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1189047025752501988&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1189047025752501988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1189047025752501988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/alternative-music-monday.html' title='alternative music monday.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-9055042282416893432</id><published>2009-08-31T21:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:49:57.829+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>endings.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Primeiro que tudo, peço desculpa por não aparecer aqui há algum tempo. A verdade é que para mim alguns dias são dificeís de "viver", não vou mentir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No outro dia estive a pensar (e a escrever) sobre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;fins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. Como o fim do dia, marcado pelo pôr-do-sol; o fim de uma viagem, o cansaço a tomar conta de nós, mas a sensação tão distinta de satisfação; o fim de um capítulo, e (se o livro fôr bom) o anseio para começar outro, ... O facto é que seja qual fôr o final, normalmente algo se segue. A noite, a rotina, outro livro, até a vida depois da morte. É lógico. Chego à conclusão de que no fim de algo, outra coisa tem de se seguir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Mas nem sempre é tão linear o que se segue. No outro dia uma amiga perguntou-me a questão mais simples, mais perguntada de sempre desde a nossa infância (e não, não é a minha odiada "Estás bem?/Está tudo bem?) "O que queres seres quando cresceres?". Ela pôs a pergunta mesmo assim, ignorando o facto de apesar de ainda não sermos propriamente adultas, já termos "crescido". O mais alarmante de qualquer maneira foi a resposta vazia que tinha para ela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;É claro que não sou assim tão irresponsável, estando a caminho do 12ºano e tudo o mais. Eu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;tenho &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;uma resposta(s) automática - economia, normalmente a mais segura. Sejamos realistas, porém. Eu não tenho nenhum interesse especial por economia, ou outra coisa qualquer para dizer a verdade. Eu praticamente não tenho interesses reais. Estou tão habituada a satisfazer os outros, ou pelo menos, a tentar alcançar as expectativas que os outros têm para mim, que realmente não consigo pensar em nada que eu queira realmente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Chegamos ao fim. E agora qual é o caminho? Vou mudar o meu destino em função de mim ou das expectativas dos outros?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Chegamos ao fim, de facto, mas acho que nunca vou ter a minha resposta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-9055042282416893432?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/9055042282416893432/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=9055042282416893432&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/9055042282416893432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/9055042282416893432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/endings.html' title='endings.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3892024561903564591</id><published>2009-08-24T22:11:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:21:45.183+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solidão'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>secrets.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Toda a gente tem segredos. Qual é o teu maior segredo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/f3zHBM7zf3U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/f3zHBM7zf3U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No silêncio das nossas casas, nas sombras da nossa vida, escondemos os nossos segredos. Uns maiores que outros, outros mais escuros que outros. Alguns partilhamos com uma amiga próxima, outros partilhamos com um diário, outros simplesmente são ditos em frustração bêbeda (sim eu digo coisas bastante interessantes quando estou bêbeda :S).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Será que ter segredos significa que nos gostamos de distanciar das pessoas há nossa volta? Ou simplesmente que as queremos proteger?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Talvez somos nós mesmos que não estamos ainda preparados para partilhar algo, para admitir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;De qualquer maneira acho que é sempre bom não revelar tudo quer seja aos nossos amigos, familía ou namorados. Torna a relação mais interessante, ir descobrindo aos poucos outra pessoa. Mas e se alguém descobrir algum dos meus segredos que não gosta? O mais provável é acabar sozinha...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A vida é demasiado complicada. E eu penso demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3892024561903564591?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3892024561903564591/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3892024561903564591&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3892024561903564591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3892024561903564591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/secrets.html' title='secrets.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8276345824833139152</id><published>2009-08-23T00:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T00:36:24.808+01:00</updated><title type='text'>darkness.</title><content type='html'>In the darkness&lt;br&gt;So unfamiliar&lt;br&gt;She feels powerless&lt;br&gt;In shadows of fear&lt;br&gt;Will she rest?&lt;br&gt;Will she perish?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8276345824833139152?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8276345824833139152/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8276345824833139152&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8276345824833139152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8276345824833139152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/darkness.html' title='darkness.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4376457991335905777</id><published>2009-08-22T19:36:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T20:32:09.613+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harry potter'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SpBHU-AESfI/AAAAAAAAAUM/gp6VfPE8qI4/s1600-h/HarryNHermioneHugedit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 175px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SpBHU-AESfI/AAAAAAAAAUM/gp6VfPE8qI4/s320/HarryNHermioneHugedit.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372872781019236850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Qual é, na vossa opinião?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4376457991335905777?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4376457991335905777/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4376457991335905777&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4376457991335905777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4376457991335905777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/qual-e-na-vossa-opiniao.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SpBHU-AESfI/AAAAAAAAAUM/gp6VfPE8qI4/s72-c/HarryNHermioneHugedit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5884139700383400387</id><published>2009-08-22T18:19:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T18:54:38.633+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>the second.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SpAwJfyh4NI/AAAAAAAAAUE/0EAVMwY0Yv0/s1600-h/yet+new+fish+033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SpAwJfyh4NI/AAAAAAAAAUE/0EAVMwY0Yv0/s320/yet+new+fish+033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372847295163392210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My new baby! É um macho, por isso não sei bem o que lhe chamar.. :S Maaasss... Eu tinha a ideia de lhe chamer Edward (ahah eu sou tão original) mas a Marta não gosta (ela tem um complexo anti-twilight que eu ainda estou a tentar mudar) e ela continua a ser a madrinha do peixe, portanto..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://dailybooth.com/pictures/large/06507c755d235e9ec1a9604063c9d1f6_838972.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 338px;" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5884139700383400387?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5884139700383400387/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5884139700383400387&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5884139700383400387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5884139700383400387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/second.html' title='the second.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SpAwJfyh4NI/AAAAAAAAAUE/0EAVMwY0Yv0/s72-c/yet+new+fish+033.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7837345908900576135</id><published>2009-08-22T18:09:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T18:11:09.455+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>i'm here for you</title><content type='html'>&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.formspring.com/forms/js.php?687167-152alz5OnW-v2"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;noscript&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.formspring.com/forms/?687167-152alz5OnW" title="Online Form"&gt;Online Form - whatever you need to say, wherever you are, you can talk to me:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/noscript&gt;&lt;div style="text-align:right; font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.formspring.com/" title="Online Form Generator"&gt;FormSpring - Online Form Generator&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7837345908900576135?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7837345908900576135/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7837345908900576135&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7837345908900576135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7837345908900576135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-here-for-you.html' title='i&apos;m here for you'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5002944649682679772</id><published>2009-08-20T23:17:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T23:33:55.442+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>coco, the first.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Eu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;tinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; um peixe. A minha melhor amiga &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://twitter.com/cate_bm/status/3368187023"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;deu-me na &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;segunda-feira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; como prenda de anos. Devido ao uso do verbo ter no passado, já devem ter calculado que eu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;já não&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; o tenho. Ou seja o meu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;primeiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; peixe, prenda de anos da minha melhor amiga, viveu exactamente &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;dois dias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; na minha casa antes de decidir morrer. Eu sei... "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;WTF?!?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; SERIOUSLY?!" Yup... A minha reacção exactamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/So3OxcxyzzI/AAAAAAAAATs/g3uQcR-6Tic/s320/fish+004.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372177279456825138" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Aparentemente o homem da loja enganou-nos e deu-nos um aquário pequeno de mais para o tipo de peixe, e o peixe que lá cabe (um Beta macho, para os entendidos no assunto) está esgotado em toda a Lisboa, ao que parece. Portanto este fim-de-semana lá tenho que ir eu levantar-me cedo para ir à loja de animais do mercado de Benfica comprar um peixe (o segundo esta semana) e de alguma maneira explicar à Marta porque é que o peixe que ela me deu está neste momento algures numa lixeira lisboeta. A última será ligeiramente complicada e tenho vindo a adiá-la porque o acordo era que se o Coco, o peixe, morresse, ela me matava. E ela era bem capaz disso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A única coisa que eu tenho a dizer? Ainda bem que ela tem uma certa aversão à Internet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Que descanses em paz, Coco, peixinho dos olhos grandes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5002944649682679772?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5002944649682679772/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5002944649682679772&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5002944649682679772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5002944649682679772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-tinha-um-peixe.html' title='coco, the first.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/So3OxcxyzzI/AAAAAAAAATs/g3uQcR-6Tic/s72-c/fish+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4301421538331516834</id><published>2009-08-20T22:49:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T22:57:16.722+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='felicidade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>want.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Apetece-me dormir, fechar os olhos e sonhar de sitíos inimagináveis. Apetece-me sair, correr os campos tingindos de verde. Apetece-me ficar eternamente deitada na relva fofa, observar o contraste das estrelas brilhantes no céu preto e segurar a tua mão. Apetece-me... Quando somos novos, queremos decobrir tudo e tudo é o fim do mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Há tantas coisas que quero ver, descobrir, guardar na minha memória. Mas tudo parece tão impossível, parece que não há tempo, parece que tudo vai acabar com um suspiro, com a brisa leve do vento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pois ela que me leve. Quero voar. Quero imaginar. Quero descobrir. Quero concretizar tudo aquilo que me apetece fazer, só pelo luxo de que posso, de que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;quero&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4301421538331516834?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4301421538331516834/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4301421538331516834&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4301421538331516834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4301421538331516834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/want.html' title='want.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-9650757671801570</id><published>2009-08-17T22:26:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T22:28:21.950+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music monday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='felicidade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>[Music Monday 17/08/09]</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EUsbpmQ9-mc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EUsbpmQ9-mc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-9650757671801570?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/9650757671801570/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=9650757671801570&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/9650757671801570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/9650757671801570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/music-monday-170809.html' title='[Music Monday 17/08/09]'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6654889496299676659</id><published>2009-08-16T18:31:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T20:45:26.501+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><title type='text'>random thought.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SohQn3l5KRI/AAAAAAAAATk/LWCy9smosKo/s320/inglaterra2009+053.JPG" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370631201507322130" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A second, a minute, an hour, a day ago. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Painful remembrances of the moments we let go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6654889496299676659?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6654889496299676659/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6654889496299676659&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6654889496299676659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6654889496299676659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/random-thought.html' title='random thought.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SohQn3l5KRI/AAAAAAAAATk/LWCy9smosKo/s72-c/inglaterra2009+053.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2692663066916190539</id><published>2009-08-07T23:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T22:45:58.817+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No escuro do meu quarto &amp;#233; f&amp;#225;cil pensar que no amanh&amp;#227; tudo ser&amp;#225; melhor. &amp;#201; simples fantasiar com uma vida feliz, a melodia de um piano, a vivacidade de um arco-&amp;#237;ris... Mas viver mesmo, sair do ref&amp;#250;gio seguro, enfrentar o mundo exterior que pouco de n&amp;#243;s conhece, que nos ataca ferozmente em cada esquina. &lt;br&gt;Viver parece simples, mas quem alimenta essa fantasia nunca viveu. E quem viveu deseja sempre ter-se agarrado &amp;#224; fantasia, nem que fosse por apenas mais uma manh&amp;#227; cruel.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;.cate (mobile)&lt;br&gt;p.s.-obrigada pelos coment&amp;#225;rios meninas :D desculpem n&amp;#227;o ter respondido, mas por causa da viagem n&amp;#227;o tive muito tempo. xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2692663066916190539?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2692663066916190539/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2692663066916190539&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2692663066916190539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2692663066916190539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-escuro-do-meu-quarto-f-pensar-que-no.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4331101448373960191</id><published>2009-08-05T18:34:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T18:46:58.680+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>hi and goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;Sim estou cá outra vez, mas não por muito tempo. Vou para Inglaterra no sábado, o que vai ser... AWESOME :P Mesmo que apanhe gripe A, vai valer a pena. Sempre que vou a Inglaterra é como se tivesse voltado a casa depois de muito tempo. A última vez que lá tive foi em 2007 quando saiu o último livro de Harry Potter (sim, eu sou nerd e tenho orgulho, muito obrigado)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SnnDT57hqTI/AAAAAAAAATc/jgjsKtLy3ao/s1600-h/IMG_0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 204px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SnnDT57hqTI/AAAAAAAAATc/jgjsKtLy3ao/s320/IMG_0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366535177724078386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Enfim, o que é que se pode fazer não é?&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto estive no Algarve tive uma ideia para um livro, mas como tenho tendência para começar as coisas e desistir a meio, não tenho muitas esperanças.&lt;br /&gt;Bah.. Não sei o que dizer. Apetece-me escrever alguma coisa mas não sei o quê. Mais um ponto em direcção à insanidade. Boa, Catarina! Vais no bom caminho...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4331101448373960191?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4331101448373960191/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4331101448373960191&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4331101448373960191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4331101448373960191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/08/hi-and-goodbye.html' title='hi and goodbye'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SnnDT57hqTI/AAAAAAAAATc/jgjsKtLy3ao/s72-c/IMG_0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5232586282129381202</id><published>2009-07-27T00:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T00:00:02.507+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Saying 'I notice you're a nerd' is like saying, 'Hey, I notice that you'd&lt;br /&gt;rather be intelligent than be stupid, that you'd rather be thoughtful than be&lt;br /&gt;vapid, that you believe that there are things that matter more than the arrest&lt;br /&gt;record of Lindsay Lohan. Why is that?' In fact, it seems to me that most&lt;br /&gt;contemporary insults are pretty lame. Even 'lame' is kind of lame. Saying&lt;br /&gt;'You're lame' is like saying 'You walk with a limp.' Yeah, whatever, so does 50&lt;br /&gt;Cent, and he's done all right for himself." (John Green, July 27th)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Something John Green said two years ago, e com a qual eu concordo. LOL. Rio-me sempre que leio isto, porque é tão verdade e cómico ao mesmo tempo. Anyway... É o meu dia de anos! Não dou muita importância, mas sejamos francos, isto é o meu blog e É o meu dia de anos afinal, portanto eu posso escrever o que quiser - Parabéns para mim, porque de facto efectuei mais uma órbita à volta do sol, mais um ano. 17. Credo, já se torna uma rotina!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5232586282129381202?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5232586282129381202/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5232586282129381202&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5232586282129381202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5232586282129381202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/saying-i-notice-youre-nerd-is-like.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4560742623354077598</id><published>2009-07-25T11:18:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T11:25:34.483+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>next week.</title><content type='html'>De malas feitas para ir para o Algarve. Estou só mesmo a passar aqui para dizer até para a semana e divirtam-se ^^&lt;div&gt;Provavelmente não venho à net enquanto lá estiver. :'(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Levo 5 livros para uma semana - yhey I'm nerd! :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4560742623354077598?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4560742623354077598/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4560742623354077598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4560742623354077598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4560742623354077598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/next-week.html' title='next week.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-811324864156707901</id><published>2009-07-23T23:08:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T23:50:01.313+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>peniche city.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361782524577359282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SmjgzFRUpbI/AAAAAAAAATE/d2QDrHm2i-M/s320/peniche+003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361787444279636786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SmjlRclv8zI/AAAAAAAAATM/rpxflBH0hHs/s320/peniche+015.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361788543726508514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SmjmRcWT2eI/AAAAAAAAATU/_e3aaURzdic/s320/peniche+017.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-811324864156707901?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/811324864156707901/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=811324864156707901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/811324864156707901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/811324864156707901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/peniche-city.html' title='peniche city.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SmjgzFRUpbI/AAAAAAAAATE/d2QDrHm2i-M/s72-c/peniche+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6319930805965683913</id><published>2009-07-23T22:54:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T23:01:50.627+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music monday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>mountain goats.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Os últimos quatro dias passei-os em Peniche. É um sitío giro. Para quem gosta de praia e de pouco calor... Como eu (especialmente na segunda parte, sou mais de climas frios/chuvosos).&lt;br /&gt;E como tal não fiz o meu Music Monday, mas tenciono fazê-lo agora, para quem gosta de indie ou música alternativa, esta banda é boa. Pessoalmente esta é a minha música preferida:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div style="WIDTH: 300px"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;object height="110" width="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/TBdXLiV7mZ/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/TBdXLiV7mZ/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="110" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="PADDING-RIGHT: 1px; PADDING-LEFT: 1px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 1px; PADDING-TOP: 1px; BACKGROUND-COLOR: #e6e6e6" align="left"&gt;&lt;div style="PADDING-RIGHT: 4px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; FLOAT: left; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 4px"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/embedsearch/E6E6E6/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;form style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; MARGIN: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" action="http://www.imeem.com/embedsearch/" method="post"&gt;&lt;input name="EmbedSearchBox"&gt;&lt;input style="FONT-SIZE: 12px" type="submit" value="Search"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=0&amp;amp;ek=TBdXLiV7mZ" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/152/10/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=1&amp;amp;ek=TBdXLiV7mZ" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/153/10/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=2&amp;amp;ek=TBdXLiV7mZ" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/154/10/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=3&amp;amp;ek=TBdXLiV7mZ" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/155/10/TBdXLiV7mZ/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/artists/the_mountain_goats/music/2JWQDQf-/the-mountain-goats-cotton/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Cotton - The Mountain Goats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Descobri esta banda através do John Green. Ele uma vez disse no BlogTV que era a única banda que ouvia e achei interessante, mas nunca mais me lembrei de ir ver até hoje. Porque estou a ler o livro dele &lt;em&gt;Paper Towns &lt;/em&gt;em que a banda é mencionada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6319930805965683913?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6319930805965683913/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6319930805965683913&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6319930805965683913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6319930805965683913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/mountain-goats.html' title='mountain goats.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-434449335808594550</id><published>2009-07-18T23:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:25:19.433+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Criticas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harry potter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>harry potter.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="EC_tit"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="EC_msg EC_txtGeral"&gt;Para começar há que dizer que adorei o filme, e até agora acho que é o melhor dos que já foram feitos. Não é uma cópia do livro, mas eu prefiro assim. Depois do crepúsculo, em que as partes que eu amava no livro não estavam no filme mas montes de falas eram as mesmas, fiquei feliz por ver que os criadores deste sexto filme foram criativos mas fiéis à história.&lt;br /&gt;Por faler em Twilight, mais alguém reparou na semelhança quando Slughorn no início diz 'Absolutly and inequivocably...'. Não é nada de especial, mas quando ouvi pareceu um bocado porpositado que pusessem uma expressão tão parecida com a de Twilight.&lt;br /&gt;Continuando... Também gostei da música do início quando aparece o logo do filme e o Harry a ser fotografado. Mais uma vez um pormenor inútil, mas acho que dá logo desde o início a perceber que este vai ser um filme mais obscuro.&lt;br /&gt;A parte do metro achei que estava muito bem conseguida, com o poster do magic e a rapariga (começamos logo a ver que é um filme que é mais adolescente), apesar de achar que devia ser explicada aquela parte dos Dursley... É uma das partes mais importantes, o porquê do Harry continuar a ir à casa dos Dursley, mas pronto, as pessoas que vão ao cinema e não lêem os livros ou não são muito espertas ou vão a correr para casa ler o livro (a primeira pode-se explicar pelo facto de na estreia no Colombo, quando trocaram as partes do filme, ficando depois do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="EC_msg EC_txtGeral"&gt; Ron estar na enfermaria, o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="EC_msg EC_txtGeral"&gt; Dumbledore a morrer e a seguir voltar a estar na parte em que o Ron acabou com a Lavender; e ter havido pessoas que não deram pela troca).&lt;br /&gt;Adorei o pormenor de quando o Harry chega à Toca, o Ron tira um bocado de pasta de dentes da cara da Hermione e depois quando ela está a descrever o cheiro que a poção do amor tem para ela, um dos que ela diz é pasta de dentes. Achei fofo. Desculpem os pormenores inúteis, já vi o filme duas vezes (e ainda promete mais uma terceira e talvez uma quarta) e há coisas em que se pensa mais da segunda vez.&lt;br /&gt;Por falar na Toca... Aquela parte em que os Devoradores da Morte atacam?... Bem quem foi comigo ao cinema (também fãs dos livros) acharam (1) assustador e (2) idiota porque não está no livro e não faz sentido. Eu não sei o que pensar. Gosto dos efeitos, do Harry a correr, da Ginny (o meu ódio por ela diminuiu significativamente neste filme). Percebo qual foi o objectivo - mostrar que o Harry era demasiado "alcançável" e também reagia mais depressa do que pensava. A primeira coisa que me veio à cabeça quando vi pela primeira vez a cena, o Harry e a Ginny de costas um para o outro a enfrentar a Bella e o Greyback, foi Lily e James. Não sei porquê. É o meu pairing preferido da série sem dúvida, mas não sei, a primeira coisa que pensei foi que 17 anos antes tinham sido eles na mesma posição exactamente. E isso é simplesmente.. uau!&lt;br /&gt;Tenho imensas coisas a dizer sobre este filme - how odd! - mas não vou ter tempo para dizer todas. Acho que vou ter que acrescentar ao longo do tempo por entre posts...&lt;br /&gt;Mais uma coisa só: o efeito da Felix Felicis, mais uma das cenas que eu não pude evitar desmanchar-me a rir (assim como na do Cormac a lamber os dedos para a Hermione e o Harry a levantar-se quando a Ginny chegou, no jantar do Slughorn) e que mais uma vez dividiu as opiniões das minhas amigas. Uma delas achou que estava a retratar o Harry como um idiota (opinião que também se estende à Luna), o que não acontece no livro.&lt;br /&gt;Eu acho que pode ser um pouco verdade mas temos que pensar que (a) isto NÃO é um livro, logo os sentimentos têm que ser retratados mais "obviamente" para que sejam compreendidos, neste caso o Harry sentia-se mais desinibido porque sentia-se com sorte e confiança, o que também o fazia parecer um pouco idiota, e razão (b) porque exactamente por ser um filme tem que haver algo que prenda a audiência que não é fã dos livros, daí a parte cómica. Tenho que admitir que nunca me ri tanto num filme de Harry Potter (pelo contrário, costumo chorar) e que gostei muito da representação do Daniel Radcliff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho que ir, mas prometo comentar mais se quiserem. Amanhã vou para Peniche, volto na quarta à noite, por isso esperem qualquer coisa na quinta ou assim :D&lt;br /&gt;Bom fim-de-semana!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-434449335808594550?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/434449335808594550/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=434449335808594550&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/434449335808594550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/434449335808594550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/harry-potter.html' title='harry potter.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1518808711710212307</id><published>2009-07-18T13:33:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:00:00.798+01:00</updated><title type='text'>suffering.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Why do people suffer? Porque é que sofremos quando algo ou alguém nos afectam? Porque...?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Blah... Foi só um pensamento que me ocorreu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Logo à noite posto o que achei do Harry Potter. É grande demais para mandar por telemóvel -.-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1518808711710212307?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1518808711710212307/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1518808711710212307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1518808711710212307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1518808711710212307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/recebeu-um-mms-do-n-351918475984-se.html' title='suffering.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2197742549880344136</id><published>2009-07-14T22:45:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T23:06:20.730+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harry potter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>chill out.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz99icHahI/AAAAAAAAASk/sVLfQi2Hx78/s1600-h/marta%27s+bday+064.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz99icHahI/AAAAAAAAASk/sVLfQi2Hx78/s320/marta%27s+bday+064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358436890322627090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz-yvVqDeI/AAAAAAAAASs/KaY2CJtaMSc/s1600-h/marta%27s+bday+077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz-yvVqDeI/AAAAAAAAASs/KaY2CJtaMSc/s320/marta%27s+bday+077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358437804318264802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz_pWajaCI/AAAAAAAAAS0/M4m8_a4oiNA/s1600-h/marta%27s+bday+091.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz_pWajaCI/AAAAAAAAAS0/M4m8_a4oiNA/s320/marta%27s+bday+091.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358438742520719394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ganzadas :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sl0A9GnYi_I/AAAAAAAAAS8/yWBi36P9JK0/s1600-h/marta%27s+bday+124.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Sl0A9GnYi_I/AAAAAAAAAS8/yWBi36P9JK0/s320/marta%27s+bday+124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358440181388577778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;piriquitos da marta: sirius e ninfa (short para nymphadora^^)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e portanto hoje passei o dia em casa da minha bff (sempre que digo bff lembro-me daquela séries "Paris Hilton's New BFF" LOL) a fazer nada. Amanhã ela vai ter exame de biologia, o que é triste, mas pronto...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Comprei os bilhetes para o Harry Potter (:D:D:D:D) e ficamos nos lugares Vodafone (=pipocas grátis), ou seja estou num estado de extrema excitação (mais porque só faltam 38 horas para o filme do que porque ficamos naqueles lugares, apesar de também ser excitante).&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mais alguém vai à sessão das 13h. no Colombo? Vou lá estar com uns amigos, por isso juntem-se à festa xD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2197742549880344136?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2197742549880344136/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2197742549880344136&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2197742549880344136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2197742549880344136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/chill-out.html' title='chill out.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slz99icHahI/AAAAAAAAASk/sVLfQi2Hx78/s72-c/marta%27s+bday+064.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4183352807797399418</id><published>2009-07-14T00:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T00:00:01.255+01:00</updated><title type='text'>happy birthday marta!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slu6vtWf7iI/AAAAAAAAASA/TBkjxm27_P8/s1600-h/Fatima+2009+177.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slu6vtWf7iI/AAAAAAAAASA/TBkjxm27_P8/s320/Fatima+2009+177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358081510477917730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Parabéns bé! ^^ Bff's forever hehe :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4183352807797399418?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4183352807797399418/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4183352807797399418&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4183352807797399418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4183352807797399418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-birthday-marta.html' title='happy birthday marta!'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/Slu6vtWf7iI/AAAAAAAAASA/TBkjxm27_P8/s72-c/Fatima+2009+177.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7983532147140910883</id><published>2009-07-13T23:32:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T23:38:06.740+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='felicidade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>[music moday - 13/07]</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uTDafjfxu5c&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uTDafjfxu5c&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="270"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ok tenho que admitir que isto foi um bocado em cima da hora e nem gosto assim tanto da música, mas faz-me lembrar a praia e o calor, e eu estou quase a ir para o Algarve por isso acho que é adequado. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E vocês para onde vão de férias?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7983532147140910883?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7983532147140910883/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7983532147140910883&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7983532147140910883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7983532147140910883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/music-moday-1307.html' title='[music moday - 13/07]'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3987128442971303381</id><published>2009-07-13T10:57:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T11:01:30.417+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>perfect.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlsFuSPGOII/AAAAAAAAAR4/vAQOqEXcCi0/s1600-h/2803.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 347px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlsFuSPGOII/AAAAAAAAAR4/vAQOqEXcCi0/s320/2803.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357882474414618754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;imperfection is what makes it perfect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3987128442971303381?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3987128442971303381/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3987128442971303381&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3987128442971303381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3987128442971303381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/perfect.html' title='perfect.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlsFuSPGOII/AAAAAAAAAR4/vAQOqEXcCi0/s72-c/2803.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1726178074308893825</id><published>2009-07-12T21:48:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T21:53:10.648+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>countryside love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlpMvUXfB9I/AAAAAAAAARw/EyiWwhORMwU/s1600-h/countryside+love.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 252px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlpMvUXfB9I/AAAAAAAAARw/EyiWwhORMwU/s320/countryside+love.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357679082515400658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;ontem na casa de férias no campo. :p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1726178074308893825?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1726178074308893825/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1726178074308893825&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1726178074308893825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1726178074308893825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/countryside-love.html' title='countryside love.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlpMvUXfB9I/AAAAAAAAARw/EyiWwhORMwU/s72-c/countryside+love.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-931298974413309324</id><published>2009-07-12T21:43:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T21:45:32.332+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twitter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>pop tarts.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlpLC3IHSGI/AAAAAAAAARo/1SJASTDAIn0/s1600-h/poptartsjacob.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 374px; height: 161px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlpLC3IHSGI/AAAAAAAAARo/1SJASTDAIn0/s320/poptartsjacob.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357677219240429666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:78%;" &gt;(my &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/cate_bm"&gt;twitter &lt;/a&gt;this morning)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-931298974413309324?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/931298974413309324/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=931298974413309324&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/931298974413309324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/931298974413309324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/pop-tarts.html' title='pop tarts.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlpLC3IHSGI/AAAAAAAAARo/1SJASTDAIn0/s72-c/poptartsjacob.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7483058199226667543</id><published>2009-07-12T18:46:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T18:50:16.886+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SloiMSoSMFI/AAAAAAAAARg/DSuFmzxprpg/s1600-h/dreams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SloiMSoSMFI/AAAAAAAAARg/DSuFmzxprpg/s320/dreams.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357632301265203282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7483058199226667543?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7483058199226667543/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7483058199226667543&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7483058199226667543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7483058199226667543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/dreams.html' title='dreams'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SloiMSoSMFI/AAAAAAAAARg/DSuFmzxprpg/s72-c/dreams.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6178677705570464119</id><published>2009-07-11T22:44:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T23:30:44.443+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>remembering sunday.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkIl7jK19I/AAAAAAAAARA/m8AS22D6rPk/s1600-h/005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkIl7jK19I/AAAAAAAAARA/m8AS22D6rPk/s320/005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357322679467300818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkLyMh_jZI/AAAAAAAAARI/WviOWUyfsOM/s1600-h/034.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkLyMh_jZI/AAAAAAAAARI/WviOWUyfsOM/s320/034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357326188719082898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkQyz_S4xI/AAAAAAAAARQ/pceaTugk1Gw/s1600-h/028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkQyz_S4xI/AAAAAAAAARQ/pceaTugk1Gw/s320/028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357331696869106450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Estou com frio. Está calor? Não sei. Espero não ter apanhado gripe A. Amanhã quero ir ao Dolce Vita. O que vale é que eu só me preocupo com este tipo de coisas inúteis, porque se não era muito mais triste. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6178677705570464119?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6178677705570464119/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6178677705570464119&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6178677705570464119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6178677705570464119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/remembering-sunday.html' title='remembering sunday.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlkIl7jK19I/AAAAAAAAARA/m8AS22D6rPk/s72-c/005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-351309494259410461</id><published>2009-07-11T00:27:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T10:53:35.085+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twilight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='one shot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fanfiction'/><title type='text'>do you love me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="msg txtGeral"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The girl, with her hair dancing in the wind, so little, so innocently pretty, but still, so smart and thoughtful. You could clearly see she was no ordinary 3 year old, though she liked to pretend every now and then, she was as shallow and restless as the next clever, little girl. We, me and Nessie walked for a while, quietly, in the wide, clear field, painted with green and sprinkled with red poppies. Suddenly, she threw herself into this sea of green, careless, not minding the brand new white dress that intensely contrasted with her light hair.&lt;br /&gt;"-Nessie! What are you doing? Your mom's going to kill me for that - as if she hadn't enough reason to kill me already.&lt;br /&gt;-But... But Jake I want to roll on the grass, like as if I was a beautiful, innocent princess."&lt;br /&gt;I sat on the grass next to her, holding her face into my hands. She had such a soft skin, though I was not sure if in a good way.&lt;br /&gt;"-You are a beautiful, innocent princess. And why would rolling on the grass make you feel like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="msg txtGeral"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-I'm not innocent. And doesn't rolling make you feel free? I feel free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Renesmee&lt;/span&gt; Carlie, you are free. How many &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tim&lt;/span&gt;..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She jumped on top of me. She had an annoying habit of not letting me finish sentences. Guess she took on the father's side on that one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-If I am a princess, will you be my prince Jacob?" Her big eyes stared at me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;intently&lt;/span&gt;, perhaps searching my reaction. Nessie was always more observant than she let out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-Of course I would. I would never want it any other way." She smiled happily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-Do you love me, Jake? Will you love me... Forever?" I held my breath. There were so many reasons to lie...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-Yes, Nessie. I love you and will never stop doing so. Forever." She seemed oddly pleased with the answer. She put her little fragile arms around me, and let her, apparently held breath, out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-I love you too, Jacob." There was a much too quiet silence around us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-Forever." She added seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Forever. And suddenly it all felt perfectly matched.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Espero&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;que&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;tenham&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;gostado&lt;/span&gt;. ^^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Edit&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tive&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;que&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;voltar&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;editar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;isto&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;porque&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;não&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;sei&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;repararam&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;eu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;enviei&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;isto&lt;/span&gt; do &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;telemóvel&lt;/span&gt;, e a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;vodafone&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;amávelmente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;incluiu&lt;/span&gt; o &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;meu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;número&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;telemóvel&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-351309494259410461?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/351309494259410461/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=351309494259410461&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/351309494259410461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/351309494259410461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/do-you-love-me.html' title='do you love me?'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-6728885822063770739</id><published>2009-07-10T23:37:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T23:39:23.851+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images me blog'/><title type='text'>me + harry potter...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.morphthing.com/showimage/5/879f04e5f8257b904cf36e84c1942e56/0/705686/Baby-of-018-JPG-and-Harry-Potter.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.morphthing.com/showimage/5/879f04e5f8257b904cf36e84c1942e56/0/705686/Baby-of-018-JPG-and-Harry-Potter.jpeg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;= Benjamin Button. :S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-6728885822063770739?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/6728885822063770739/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=6728885822063770739&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6728885822063770739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/6728885822063770739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/me-harry-potter.html' title='me + harry potter...'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5199938860771172281</id><published>2009-07-10T19:46:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T19:55:40.293+01:00</updated><title type='text'>wow</title><content type='html'>Estou em choque...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SleMm3CbG7I/AAAAAAAAAQw/QBHqTl3PB9Q/s1600-h/fan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SleMm3CbG7I/AAAAAAAAAQw/QBHqTl3PB9Q/s320/fan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356904881017527218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Não é que não haja outras pessoas que gostem do que eu escrevo, porque há (por acaso tinha melhores notas a português no 10º ano, exactamente porque o stôr adorava aqueles textinhos que eu escrevia para me divertir). Foi por isso que eu comecei este blog em primeiro lugar, porque havia pessoas que queriam ler mais do que ouviam eu ler nas aulas (ou porque não tinham paciência para escrever e precisavam de entregar alguma coisa como trabalho de casa).&lt;br /&gt;De qualquer maneira fiquei impressionada por isto...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SleOTWTItoI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/R3d5P0CW6go/s1600-h/%40reply.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 61px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SleOTWTItoI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/R3d5P0CW6go/s320/%40reply.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356906744834995842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks Hannah! ^^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5199938860771172281?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5199938860771172281/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5199938860771172281&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5199938860771172281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5199938860771172281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/wow.html' title='wow'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SleMm3CbG7I/AAAAAAAAAQw/QBHqTl3PB9Q/s72-c/fan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4272594964981036284</id><published>2009-07-10T19:08:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T19:08:59.085+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Harry Potter IS love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="padding: 3px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shiningmer/3707022681/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2541/3707022681_5d8cbaaae9.jpg" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); width: 382px; height: 291px;" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shiningmer/3707022681/"&gt;Harry Potter is a God&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/shiningmer/"&gt;shiningmer&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I guess it says it all... (tirada para o concurso do TwilightersPortugal, para o tema de Religião).&lt;br /&gt;Tão perto da estreia do 6ºfilme em Portugal, nunca é de demais relembrar que sim, eu amo (venero neste caso) Harry Potter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4272594964981036284?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4272594964981036284/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4272594964981036284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4272594964981036284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4272594964981036284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/harry-potter-is-love.html' title='Harry Potter IS love'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2541/3707022681_5d8cbaaae9_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1292569670328741685</id><published>2009-07-09T23:04:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T23:06:36.056+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>desperate.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img2.visualizeus.com/thumbs/09/07/02/dont,leave,leave,type,wordy,photography-546c46ae826d4fc2b61a2faa67a0cd74_h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 261px;" src="http://img2.visualizeus.com/thumbs/09/07/02/dont,leave,leave,type,wordy,photography-546c46ae826d4fc2b61a2faa67a0cd74_h.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Because everybody else has.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1292569670328741685?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1292569670328741685/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1292569670328741685&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1292569670328741685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1292569670328741685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/desperate.html' title='desperate.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4505600531154013342</id><published>2009-07-09T22:17:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:55:55.634+01:00</updated><title type='text'>fff-fashion.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hoje fui às compras... Não o que é que isto tem de especial, mas não sei porquê senti a necessidade de escrever isto para que toda a gente saiba - eu fui às compras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZfZ5e8RYI/AAAAAAAAAQA/BoH0M92xBPo/s1600-h/cloth+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 219px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZfZ5e8RYI/AAAAAAAAAQA/BoH0M92xBPo/s320/cloth+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356573705335752066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;De vez em quando eu passo-me, é normal. Faz parte da minha pessoa, é uma questão de hábito.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Outra coisa que eu fiz hoje e a qual sinto a necessidade de partilhar, é que finalmente (porque acho que me vão rejeitar devido ao facto de que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;eu  sou gorda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;) enviei um pedido de inscrição para o LookBook (site pelo qual estou de momento apaixonada). Para isso foi necessário enviar o meu "primeiro look"...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZmn_zsbfI/AAAAAAAAAQg/VtgGWlImqxk/s1600-h/lookbook+first+008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZmn_zsbfI/AAAAAAAAAQg/VtgGWlImqxk/s320/lookbook+first+008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356581644132969970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A mais estúpida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZlSUImy_I/AAAAAAAAAQY/0_Lp7jr1qJE/s1600-h/lookbook+first+026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZlSUImy_I/AAAAAAAAAQY/0_Lp7jr1qJE/s320/lookbook+first+026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356580172120640498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A minha preferida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZiusXFEPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/LE4u-bczLVs/s1600-h/070909.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 286px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZiusXFEPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/LE4u-bczLVs/s320/070909.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356577361125249266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O resultado final&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Bah enfim... hoje não estou nos meus dias de falar de mim. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4505600531154013342?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4505600531154013342/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4505600531154013342&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4505600531154013342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4505600531154013342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/hoje-fui-as-compras.html' title='fff-fashion.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZfZ5e8RYI/AAAAAAAAAQA/BoH0M92xBPo/s72-c/cloth+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1201784711765554118</id><published>2009-07-09T22:08:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:10:04.175+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>the sky is the limit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://gillofilippa.blogg.se/images/2009/img_5279l_44719012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 364px; height: 242px;" src="http://gillofilippa.blogg.se/images/2009/img_5279l_44719012.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;..at least we hope so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1201784711765554118?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1201784711765554118/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1201784711765554118&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1201784711765554118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1201784711765554118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/sky-is-limit.html' title='the sky is the limit.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1418600930520204548</id><published>2009-07-08T23:06:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T23:02:53.209+01:00</updated><title type='text'>7 days to go.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Hmm já agora para os fãs de Harry Potter que ainda não foram ao Colombo, acabei de postar isto no meu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://twitter.com/cate_bm"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; twitter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; (há que fazer &lt;strike&gt;alguma&lt;/strike&gt; publicidade):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZo-Zzs3SI/AAAAAAAAAQo/ivrye0Bde9g/s1600-h/16334055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 361px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZo-Zzs3SI/AAAAAAAAAQo/ivrye0Bde9g/s320/16334055.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356584228092697890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;(a fotografia está péssima porque não queria atrair muita atenção para a minha "nerdisse" e porque foi o telemóvel :p)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1418600930520204548?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1418600930520204548/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1418600930520204548&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1418600930520204548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1418600930520204548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/hmm-ja-agora-para-os-fas-de-harry.html' title='7 days to go.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlZo-Zzs3SI/AAAAAAAAAQo/ivrye0Bde9g/s72-c/16334055.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8908977041035471290</id><published>2009-07-08T22:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T22:56:24.590+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='description'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>memories.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;div style="width:300px;"&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="110"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/IwxxSgj6L6/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/IwxxSgj6L6/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="110" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="background-color:#E6E6E6;padding:1px;"&gt;&lt;div style="float:left;padding:4px 4px 0 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/embedsearch/E6E6E6/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;form method="post" action="http://www.imeem.com/embedsearch/" style="margin:0;padding:0;"&gt;&lt;input type="text" name="EmbedSearchBox"&gt;&lt;input type="submit" value="Search" style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;div style="padding-top:3px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=0&amp;amp;ek=IwxxSgj6L6" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/152/10/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=1&amp;amp;ek=IwxxSgj6L6" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/153/10/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=2&amp;amp;ek=IwxxSgj6L6" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/154/10/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/ads/banneradclick.ashx?ep=3&amp;amp;ek=IwxxSgj6L6" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.imeem.com/ads/bannerad/155/10/IwxxSgj6L6/" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Dá-me a tua mão. Fecha os olhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Suavemente dá uma volta, como se este fosse o melhor momento da tua vida, como se esta fosse a melodia mais bela que já alguma vez ouviste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Uma lágrima cai. Um suspiro é libertado em vão, e o medo que o outro se tenha apercebido aumenta. O fim nunca esteve tão perto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;O sol entra pela janela, iluminando o chão mogno, envernizado, no qual passámos tantos momentos juntos, a dançar, deitados a contar os defeitos do tecto, aninhados um no outro nos dias de inverno, lutando para manter o calor, ouvindo a chuva a tentar perturbar o momento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tudo acaba, não há dúvida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A questão é: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;vais-te lembrar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Serão estas memórias dignas da nossa lembrança, do nosso sofrimento sempre que nos lembrarmos do que deixámos para trás.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ou será que são &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;apenas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;memórias, vazias, como todas aquelas que vieram antes de ti...?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8908977041035471290?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8908977041035471290/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8908977041035471290&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8908977041035471290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8908977041035471290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/memories.html' title='memories.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7349201709654412552</id><published>2009-07-07T20:34:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T20:55:11.912+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='férias'/><title type='text'>férias.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hoje saíram as notas dos exames. Tive 17 nos dois que fiz, geografia e economia.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Foram bons resultados, ao menos nao tenho que ir à segunda fase, e ainda subi um valor nas duas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;disciplinas (economia para 16 e geografia para 15)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Passei o dia quase todo fora de casa: fui almoçar a alfragide a casa de uma amiga, fui com ela ao dentista e pedir consulta de exame, e depois passamos 3 horas no café a falar com as pessoas que encontramos na escola. Nada de muito interessante, excepto pelo facto de que SAÍ de casa por mais de 3 horas, coisa que hoje em dia não faço muito&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(e também não sou pessoa de ficar muito tempo a falar no café).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Estou à procura de uma saia do género destas, alguém sabe onde encontrar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://files7.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/252662_swan2.jpg?1246869406"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 186px;" src="http://files7.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/252662_swan2.jpg?1246869406" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://files4.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/253080_trespass.jpg?1246906051"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 164px;" src="http://files4.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/253080_trespass.jpg?1246906051" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Agora, férias, para meu contentamento. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7349201709654412552?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7349201709654412552/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7349201709654412552&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7349201709654412552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7349201709654412552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/ferias.html' title='férias.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-1680654634254906632</id><published>2009-07-06T22:52:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T23:21:26.342+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music monday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>[music monday.]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;É provável que não faça isto todas as segundas-feiras (até porque o mais provável é que me esqueça que é segunda-feira, como estou de férias todos os dias parecem iguais), mas esta segunda senti-me inspirada pelo que penso que vai ser uma das músicas da banda sonora do meu Verão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ela é &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Paris Is Burning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Ladyawke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;. Pessoalmente, nunca tinha dado muita importância à cantora, mas agora até gosto das músicas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X7M6Nl5KQVk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;amp;color2=0xfebd01"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X7M6Nl5KQVk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;amp;color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51); font-family: verdana;font-size:78%;" &gt;(esta é um remix, e por enquanto é o meu preferido)&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Esta música faz-me lembrar do Lookbook.nu (site no qual estou viciada de momento)... Se gostam de moda ou têm roupas vintage e não sabem o que vestir amanhã, aconselho vivamente a espreitarem.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;E já agora se alguém me quiser mandar um convite para entrar, já que é um &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;invitation only&lt;/span&gt; site.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://files5.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/244462_lookbook.jpg?1245989383"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 407px;" src="http://files5.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/244462_lookbook.jpg?1245989383" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3601/3562304534_c50efd9c74.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3601/3562304534_c50efd9c74.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://files3.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/223772_mariu01web.jpg?1244033883"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 480px;" src="http://files3.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/223772_mariu01web.jpg?1244033883" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://files4.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/252638_7.jpg?1246866184"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 427px;" src="http://files4.lookbook.nu/files/looks/original/252638_7.jpg?1246866184" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, repararam no novo layout? Ainda vou dar mais uns retoques, mas está oficialmente pronto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-1680654634254906632?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/1680654634254906632/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=1680654634254906632&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1680654634254906632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/1680654634254906632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/music-monday.html' title='[music monday.]'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3601/3562304534_c50efd9c74_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2222367079248689552</id><published>2009-07-06T11:40:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T11:52:42.077+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='description'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>heartless love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlHVMhM_NrI/AAAAAAAAAO4/d9agZ0WK6DI/s1600-h/love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlHVMhM_NrI/AAAAAAAAAO4/d9agZ0WK6DI/s320/love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355295842968221362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="EC_msg EC_txtGeral"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;She, with her dark, yet not inappropriate, wittiness, her eyes mostly lifeless, depression sucking slowly the light of her hitherto bright, innocent halo. She, who despite having plainly shown her despise for the subject, could not have put it in better terms than the epitome of love itself. There was something about her, about this change almost impossible, extremely unpredictable, that lent to it, to her, an most amazing edge of wonder and magic. There was so much one could say about love without making it hideous, a despicable disease, and yet the best description of such strong, complex feeling came from none other but the least fateful in it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1/07/09 00:16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2222367079248689552?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2222367079248689552/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2222367079248689552&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2222367079248689552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2222367079248689552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/heartless-love.html' title='heartless love.'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlHVMhM_NrI/AAAAAAAAAO4/d9agZ0WK6DI/s72-c/love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-624904214341288189</id><published>2009-07-05T22:23:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T11:54:15.670+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talk'/><title type='text'>De volta...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: center;" class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlHHursOKLI/AAAAAAAAAOk/PEp01N0d74s/s1600-h/Imagem0054-730738.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlHHursOKLI/AAAAAAAAAOk/PEp01N0d74s/s320/Imagem0054-730738.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355281036736342194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Maybe. Não sei. Estou a começar a apreciar novamente o facto de ter um blog em português (estive a escrever um blog em inglês nos últimos meses, em &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.freezyrain.wordpress.com/"&gt;www.freezyrain.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;), portanto talvez transforme este em mais do que um expositor para os meus textos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sim, porque eu faço e escrevo coisas para além disto. Por exemplo, adoro fotografia e Harry Potter (cujo anúncio do próximo filme, a estrear dia 16, está neste momento a passar na televisão). Assim sendo, acho que vou dar continuidade a isto, depois de ter estado parado mais de um ano. Para além dos textos podem esperar critícas, fotos e relatórios (prometo que não muito detalhados) do meu dia-a-dia. Bem acho que por agora é tudo, apesar de não ter bem a certeza se este post é grande ou pequeno, porque estou a escrever a partir do meu telemóvel :p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Podem ainda seguir-me no meu twitter: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.twitter.com/cate_bm"&gt;www.twitter.com/cate_bm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; e no youtube: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/shiningmer"&gt;www.youtube.com/user/shiningmer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;cate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-624904214341288189?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/624904214341288189/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=624904214341288189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/624904214341288189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/624904214341288189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/de-volta.html' title='De volta...?'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/SlHHursOKLI/AAAAAAAAAOk/PEp01N0d74s/s72-c/Imagem0054-730738.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3356657683349772962</id><published>2009-07-03T23:11:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T12:51:08.930+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='images'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solidão'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='felicidade'/><title type='text'>Images</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.deviantart.com/download/72049533/Gothic_girl_in_the_window____by_Sofia_Baklatzi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; 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Sentada no parapeito da minha janela, observava todo este espectáculo de vida, tão real e porém tão distante e inalcançável. As folhas das árvores no parque lá fora bruxuleavam, fazendo as sombras dançar descoordenadamente. Fechei os olhos lentamente, tentando desesperadamente reter aquela imagem pacífica na minha cabeça. Outras imagens se misturavam, imagens de momentos mais felizes, de sítios coloridos pela felicidade e iluminados pela esperança.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Á medida que o tempo passava, cada vez mais eu me apercebia que a felicidade, o doce som da despreocupação, as palavras pronunciadas irreflectidamente… nada disso era perpétuo, muito pelo contrário, cada vez se desvanecia mais. Á medida que o tempo passava, o sol agora quase encoberto pelo horizonte alaranjado, as crianças a trocar despedidas, agora também elas mais sérias, o dia a ficar calmo, escuro; tudo se desvanecia: a alegria, a felicidade, a inocência. Tomamos as coisas mais banais da nossa infância por adquiridas, e sem darmos por isso elas fogem, abandonam-nos, deixam-nos sem esperança de as reencontrar num inferno frio e solitário.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Abri os olhos e observei a noite a acomodar-se, fria, o vento hostil, o parque deserto, e eu sentada na pedra fria da minha janela de sonhos, agarrando imagens da felicidade que julgava nunca mais conseguir alcançar, como se fossem uma arma contra os pesadelos, uma bóia no oceano negro.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sexta-feira, 3 de Julho de 2009; 23:04&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Para este eu usei como soundtrack Shooting Star dos Air Traffic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3356657683349772962?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3356657683349772962/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3356657683349772962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3356657683349772962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3356657683349772962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/07/images.html' title='Images'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8562259487839925180</id><published>2009-03-21T12:01:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-03-21T12:03:34.868Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S6YLEZQ2ZoI/AAAAAAAAAWo/aKBNsqA0sv4/s1600-h/ist2_10900242-multi-color-board-game-pieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S6YLEZQ2ZoI/AAAAAAAAAWo/aKBNsqA0sv4/s320/ist2_10900242-multi-color-board-game-pieces.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8562259487839925180?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8562259487839925180/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8562259487839925180&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8562259487839925180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8562259487839925180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/S6YLEZQ2ZoI/AAAAAAAAAWo/aKBNsqA0sv4/s72-c/ist2_10900242-multi-color-board-game-pieces.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7800371461732819479</id><published>2009-01-23T21:47:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-01-23T23:06:21.253Z</updated><title type='text'>Um Ano Depois</title><content type='html'>Parada na rua, congelando com o cortante vento e a chuva gélida, as pessoas passando rapidamente à minha volta, fugindo ao tempo, ao atmosférico e ao do relógio, não me vêem.&lt;br /&gt;Parada, olho à volta, e não sei mais onde estou.&lt;br /&gt;Perdi-me. Entre hoje e há um ano atrás, perdi-me.&lt;br /&gt;Neste momento sei o que quero, mas o medo de falhar é tão grande que começo a duvidar que tenha coragem de seguir o meu próprio sonho - aquele que tão desesperadamente procurei, aquele que sempre guardei dentro de mim mas nunca tinha dado a devida importância. Será possível que a única coisa que me mantinha a lutar pela vida, a descoberta do sonho, aquele que me faria eternamente feliz, eu não tenho coragem? Sinceramente, já não sei quem sou. Perdi as forças para lutar esta batalha idiota...&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que vivi durante este ano... Não sei o que dizer. Não sei o que fazer. Não sei o que pensar.&lt;br /&gt;Será que vou ser capaz de fazer as malas e partir em direcção a vida que quero? Ou vou fazer como sempre? Sentar-me no topo da minha currentemente vida confortável e vê-la desvanecer-se em melancolia e desespero?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8nrI2ttkM-U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8nrI2ttkM-U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7800371461732819479?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7800371461732819479/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7800371461732819479&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7800371461732819479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7800371461732819479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2009/01/um-ano-depois.html' title='Um Ano Depois'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-4193819881623989063</id><published>2008-05-25T12:23:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T22:23:05.564Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>A Ti AVô - 5 anos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A ti avô porque és especial. És especial porque sim. Não tenho razão. Mas… é preciso? Não faz mal, tenho muitas para te dar. Podemos começar com a mais precária de todas… o facto de me teres educado. Não é a melhor claro, mas parece-me a mais plausível para quem não nos conheceu. Eras tu que me levavas a ver os pombos, lembraste?  Era tão divertido! Levaste-me a andar de metro pela primeira vez, e foi aí que me apaixonei por esse bichinho do subsolo que tu tão bem conhecias. Lembro-me de me levares a passear ao Carrefour com a avó. Era um acto bastante simples, mas sabes como eu adorava aqueles passeios. Afinal eram raros e divertia-me sempre imenso. Lembro-me de ás vezes estar em casa com a avó. Ela estava a fazer o almoço e eu estava á tua espera. Fiquei preocupada pois nunca mais chegavas e já estava a ficar zangada, mas depois apareceste com um sorriso e um embrulho nas mãos. Tinha comprado aquilo a que a minha avó costumava chamar de “aparelhómetro inútil”, mas que apenas se resumia num aparelho electrónico. E tudo isto porque me amavas… Porque mais ninguém me amava como tu. Era rejeitada, e ao habituar-me ao teu amor não reparei que era como uma droga que provoca uma espécie de vício leve. Pois quando voaste em direcção ao céu e me deixaste eu senti parte do meu espiríto voar contigo também. Parte do meu espiríto que nunca mais voltou, mas que sempre tenta voltar nas alturas mais difíceis. Sei que estás por trás dessa tentativa de regresso, pois sinto o teu perfume novamente, parece que revejo o teu sorriso no meu próprio rosto… Oh! Só Deus sabe a falta que me fazes nessas alturas difíceis. Ás vezes ponho-me a pensar no que teria sido a vida se estivesses aqui comigo… Seria mais feliz? Sim, sem dúvida posso afirmar isso. Eu seria mais feliz. Tenho a certeza que a minha vida teria sido toda muito diferente… Mas ao pensar nisso lembro-me daquela última semana quando regressei à tua casa e da avó. Estava notoriamente mais triste naquela noite, onde o sol já não banhava a varanda onde tu te encontravas a consultar alguns documentos. E depois de ter visto tudo aquilo e de perceber que tinha de espairecer e que aquilo certamente nada daquilo me poderia estar a acontecer a mim, quando eu já ia ao fundo do corredor, tu chamaste por mim. Já não era aquela voz alegre e divertida, não. Não, nunca mais tinha sido a mesma desde que voltaras aquela casa, pois até tu já tinhas consciência do que se sucederia. Mas mesmo assim, juntas-te todos os teus esforços, e gritaste por mim. Eu, consciente de que poderia ser a última vez que conseguirias gritar assim por mim, acorri. Corri tão depressa quanto pude por aquele corredor, e quando olhei para ti e me estendeste uma velha e dobrada nota de 5€, apeteceu-me rir e chorar ao mesmo tempo. Era tão simples, comparado com a complexidade daquilo que sentia. Mas aproximei-me e peguei. Mais tarde deixámos a casa e eu tinha o pressentimento que aquela casa iria ser mais deprimente da próxima vez, parecia até que a casa começara um choro interminável. Nos dias seguintes proibiram-me expressamente de voltar à casa para te visitar. Eu não percebia porquê, fingia não perceber, não queria aceitar uma realidade que era demasiado dura e ainda desconhecida para mim. Pois nem para a aceitar tive tempo. No dia 25 de Maio o sol acordou radiante mas triste. Como última homenagem ele brilhava, mas tenho a certeza que se não fosse por isso, nunca mais ele brilharia. Quando soube a minha reacção foi pacífica, mas percebi, contudo, a grande mudança ocorrida em mim. Eu crescera, e bastante. Para mim perder-te foi como perder os pais. A partir daí comecei a adoptar o velho método que hoje em dia tento controlar: o planeamento. Simplesmente comecei a planear todas as situações que me poderiam passar à frente e não consigo parar de o fazer, pois tenho medo do que possa vir a acontecer. Tenho medo de ter mais desilusões, como muitas outras que já tive ao longo da minha vida. Sei porque comecei a sofrer mais a partir daí: nunca mais estiveste ao meu lado para me proteger. Pelo menos não num estado físico visível. Hoje já aprendi que estás sempre do meu lado quando eu preciso. É só preciso saber chamar-te…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-4193819881623989063?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4193819881623989063/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=4193819881623989063&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4193819881623989063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/4193819881623989063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/05/ti-av-5-anos.html' title='A Ti AVô - 5 anos'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3480442042535898549</id><published>2008-04-17T20:59:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T11:56:04.028+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><title type='text'>Ultimatum - o último dos posts</title><content type='html'>Já alguma vez houve um momento em que olhou para fora da janela e sentiu como se... Como se a vida fosse mais bela do que nunca? Como se o sol se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;atrevesse&lt;/span&gt; a olhar para nós, por fim? Como se a brisa trouxesse aromas diferentes, e ao mesmo tempo o levasse a viajar, por aí, pelo Mundo...?&lt;div&gt;Finalmente, eu sinto-me assim.&lt;div&gt;Há umas semanas atrás eu tomei uma decisão - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a decisão&lt;/span&gt;: não vou escrever mais. Escrever só me traz recordações de um passado que tento enterrar há tanto tempo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Está na altura de me concentrar no que vem para a frente - no futuro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Nota: Alguns textos serão acrescentados posteriormente mas serão textos que já escrevi há algum tempo e que, infelizmente, ainda não tive tempo de publicar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3480442042535898549?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3480442042535898549/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3480442042535898549&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3480442042535898549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3480442042535898549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/04/ultimatum-o-ltimo-dos-posts.html' title='Ultimatum - o último dos posts'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8565995901715533058</id><published>2008-03-18T21:28:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-18T21:31:03.820Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>Mean Wait</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Eu espero-te, na noite escura e fria. Eu espero eternamente sob o céu enublado. Sentada nesta cadeira velha, numa sala escura, em que a única coisa que me diz que é noite é a janela minúscula com grades de ferro. Eu olho e desejo-a. Desejo aquela noite que não posso ter. As lágrimas, essas já não caem mais. Não. Os meus olhos estão secos, encarquilhados, completamente desidratados, porque chorar pertenceu ao passado, quando era fútil e ignorante. Agora apenas um deserto seco e impiedoso me espera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="PT"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu ainda te espero. Espero-te debaixo de um arco de sofrimento, porque ainda tenho esta esperança… A esperança de que sejas “aquele”. Porque eu sei que te amo! Só não sei quem és…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8565995901715533058?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8565995901715533058/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8565995901715533058&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8565995901715533058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8565995901715533058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/03/mean-wait.html' title='Mean Wait'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5634191861593490658</id><published>2008-03-03T19:18:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-03T19:23:07.766Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><title type='text'>Touch... Awaking my soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R8xP-uCcZ6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/dmboLP6SjZA/s1600-h/lucy-e-kouta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R8xP-uCcZ6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/dmboLP6SjZA/s320/lucy-e-kouta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173598010870622114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;O toque pode por vezes ser uma coisa terrível para mim. O calor, a sensação, não sei… Faz-me lembrar dias esquecidos de Verão que nunca hão-de voltar, faz-me lembrar aquilo que não tenho, faz-me lembrar a impossibilidade. Mas por vezes, por vezes, um abraço seria suficiente para reconstituir a minha vida, para dizer luta mais um bocado, pois talvez a batalha esteja quase ganha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Á noite em sonho o Mundo é preto e frio, sou só eu agarrada a uma almofada, é só uma pequena rapariga que voltou à sua infância e está assustada agarrada àquilo que apenas são sonhos despedaçados e projectos impossíveis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Sou apenas… um pedaço de uma jarra partida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5634191861593490658?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5634191861593490658/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5634191861593490658&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5634191861593490658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5634191861593490658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/03/touch-awaking-my-soul.html' title='Touch... Awaking my soul'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R8xP-uCcZ6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/dmboLP6SjZA/s72-c/lucy-e-kouta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-5319240164664703037</id><published>2008-02-24T13:01:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-07-06T10:53:53.085+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video/Music'/><title type='text'>Winter Goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;lj-cut&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widget-ae.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&amp;amp;il=1&amp;amp;channel=216172782129534638&amp;amp;site=widget-ae.slide.com" style="width: 400px; height: 320px;" name="flashticker" align="middle"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="width: 400px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/lj-cut&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-5319240164664703037?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/5319240164664703037/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=5319240164664703037&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5319240164664703037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/5319240164664703037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/02/winter-goodbye.html' title='Winter Goodbye'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-8443505704525551539</id><published>2008-02-06T22:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-07T07:38:06.917Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>Not Some Cliché</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Caiu no chão: a luta é demasiado difícil. A minha cara&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6ov8ZfbvpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/ICX6M1jWdoM/s1600-h/57912t515bo8v15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 291px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6ov8ZfbvpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/ICX6M1jWdoM/s320/57912t515bo8v15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163992637415079570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; encostada ao chão de cimento sujo e frio, as minhas mãos e joelhos esfolados, as lágrimas pretas a caírem – parece cliché? Sim, cena habitual e ordinária da minha vida. Ponho-me de joelhos, imploro, a voz a falhar-me, por um momento de paz, por um momento de silêncio, mas a vida não me dá mais do que o escuro, o frio, a podridão, dá-me uma luta, que não quero, que não posso combater. Enrolo-me em mim fecho os olhos por dois segundos, mas a única coisa que consigo ver é uma grande fenda preta para onde estou a cair – não, não…! O meu cabelo, anteriormente brilhante e bem escovado, está desgrenhado, a cair, a tentar sair daquele inferno: talvez ele possa mas eu não.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gatinho – uma mão depois a outra, um joelho depois o outro – as feridas a arderem-me infectadas pelas bactérias de que a minha vida é feita. Isto dói, mas ninguém vê isso, isto é tão insuportável, e o único motivo pelo qual ainda o faço é porque sou fútil, porque ainda espero por um nascer do sol, porque ainda espero que o adversário tenha piedade de mim… Será que isso é ser estúpido? Querer que as coisas fiquem bem é ser estúpido, querer ter uma vida…?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Algo choca contra as minhas costas – é ela outra vez – e pergunto “Quando vais ter misericórdia? Quando vais parar?”. Mas ela não se importa nem com as respostas que procuro, nem com a dor que tenho, nem com nada que não seja tentar matar-me. Nem ela sabe o quanto vai ser ajudada: sinceramente também não tenho vontade de viver. Não uma vida assim, não uma vida em que um carinho é um chicote em riste. Não… Eu sou mais do que isso, eu sei-o, e por isso a minha escolha é… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Qual será mesmo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-8443505704525551539?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8443505704525551539/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=8443505704525551539&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8443505704525551539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/8443505704525551539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/02/caiu-no-cho-luta-demasiado-difcil.html' title='Not Some Cliché'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6ov8ZfbvpI/AAAAAAAAAJY/ICX6M1jWdoM/s72-c/57912t515bo8v15.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-3957836675364745859</id><published>2008-02-06T21:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-06T21:50:05.926Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>Este É O Meu Derradeiro Pedido...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6orSpfbvoI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/dJWmEHrNhtI/s1600-h/img-thing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6orSpfbvoI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/dJWmEHrNhtI/s320/img-thing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163987522109030018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;O dia estava lindo. Era dia seis de Fevereiro, nove e onze na manhã. Por muito que o sol brilhasse, por muito que eu quisesse, as cores não iam brilhar neste dia. Não iam, não podiam… Ainda continuo a pensar naquilo que me tem vindo a invadir os pensamentos toda a minha vida. O meu cabelo entrançado, a minha camisola sem mangas branca, a minha saia rosa – tudo isto é abafado por casacos e cachecóis, exigências rigorosas do Inverno, por isso eu disse, eu digo e continuo a dizer: neste dia as cores não vão brilhar, eu não vou brilhar, nem hoje e provavelmente nunca mais. É cansativo para algumas pessoas tentar tantas vezes e falhar em todas, é duro. A vida não foi feita para todos vivermos, e provavelmente para mim não foi. Provavelmente…? Não de certeza que não foi... E eu, eu já não aguento mais passar cada dia, passar cada hora com esta dor, que ninguém compreende, que ninguém vê. Eu não tenho ajuda possível, neste sítio, em qualquer sítio mesmo, não tenho ninguém que me tire estes casacos, estes cachecóis, para que possa brilhar. Hei-de estar sempre tapada, soterrada por baixo de tudo, no fim do Mundo, longe do Sol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Por isso este é o meu derradeiro pedido: faz com que isto acabe, pois eu não gosto de viver, e certamente muito menos de tentar brilhar aos olhos de um sol que nem nunca se vai importar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-3957836675364745859?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3957836675364745859/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=3957836675364745859&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3957836675364745859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/3957836675364745859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/02/este-o-meu-derradeiro-pedido.html' title='Este É O Meu Derradeiro Pedido...'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6orSpfbvoI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/dJWmEHrNhtI/s72-c/img-thing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-2666574174028018355</id><published>2008-02-04T19:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-04T19:04:14.510Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>Dreams For Friends - more personal than it seams to be</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Bodmin, 27 de Janeiro de 2003&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                          &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Querida Meredith,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como vais aí em Lisboa? Esta é a minha nova morada em Inglaterra. Teria muito gosto em que me viesses visitar e claro, ver a minha nova casa.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pelos jardins eu passeio, na r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;elva, em direcção ao lago. O meu vestido de algodão amarelo claro mexe-se levemente enquanto ando, levanto a aba do meu chapéu branco com um laço amarelo a tempo de ver o sol a começar a descer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje deitei os meus sapatos de balle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;t velhos fo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6dhh5fbvnI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UU0f8tFgJ00/s1600-h/minagi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 169px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6dhh5fbvnI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UU0f8tFgJ00/s320/minagi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163202732799802994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;ra, só para que saibas. Pensei que gostasses de saber uma vez que sempre os adoraste – as maravilhosas sapatilhas de ponta renascença. Há quanto tempo esses tempos já foram não é? Sinto-me velha ao dizer isto mas o tempo passa a correr de facto.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sei que vais ficar desapontada mas esta é provavelmente a última que escrevo. Não só cartas, mas qualquer outro tipo de textos pois como já estou farta de repetir encontrei os meus sonhos. Encontrei-os, fi-los acontecer, agora é altura de ficar por aqui, a tomar partido deles…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De qualquer maneira não te prendas a mim. Por esse mundo afora existem sonhos diferentes dos meus, vidas diferentes da minha. Por esse mundo afora existem coisas que tu nem imaginas, que eu nem imagino. Por esse mundo afora existem coisas que nunca ninguém viu, que nunca ninguém descobriu – mas com que toda a gente sonha.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu porém já não posso partir em busca de tais coisas. Eu já não posso partir mais pois estou presa, presa por correntes. O meu coração prende-me e as correntes, essas são os meus sonhos realizados.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu, tu sim deves ir, partir, correr em direcção a esse infinito. Deves voar até às nuvens mais altas, mergulhar nos oceanos mais profundos, correr por entre as ondas que morrem na praia. Tu sim deves dar a volta, girar à volta do Mundo, tu sim deves ver as coisas que eu nunca tive tempo de ver porque me deparei com estes sonhos.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu sim deves procurar quem és. Viaja, corre, grita, encontra-te. Não te prendas a futilidades, não te prendas a mim, não te prendas a ninguém, nem à Terra. Olha o sol todos os dias como se fosse a primeira vez, pois pode ser a última.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E só um conselho turístico: visita Londres. Talvez seja a inspiração de que precisas.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agora fico-me por aqui, pensando ainda nas minhas próprias palavras, na linha entre a Terra e o pôr-do-sol. Talvez esta carta esteja a ser pessoal de mais, talvez não – decide tu, só sei que apesar de já ter os meus sonhos a única coisa em que consigo pensar é na minha morte.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da sempre tua,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span  lang="PT" style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;Catherine&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-2666574174028018355?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2666574174028018355/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=2666574174028018355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2666574174028018355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/2666574174028018355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/02/dreams-for-friends-more-personal-than.html' title='Dreams For Friends - more personal than it seams to be'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6dhh5fbvnI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UU0f8tFgJ00/s72-c/minagi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7507387338084275428.post-7893864137313757578</id><published>2008-02-04T12:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-04T15:21:27.466Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking'/><title type='text'>Hallelujah...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Tears run down in my face. You finally appeared. I’ve been waiting for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6cHcpfbvmI/AAAAAAAAAJA/BXIXclQEg8o/s1600-h/anime.chocolate4breakfast.com_wallpaper_red_1024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6cHcpfbvmI/AAAAAAAAAJA/BXIXclQEg8o/s200/anime.chocolate4breakfast.com_wallpaper_red_1024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163103686558989922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; you; I’ve been waiting for you all along, since you’ve been gone, since you left me. My stupid red bow is still there, on my hair, in my ridiculously enlighten hair. My black t-shirt is the same, the same you once gave me on my birthday. I’ve been here all along, did you know? Waiting, wishing, hoping. I waited so long that I even thought I was dead, and maybe I am. The coldness of the winter or the heat of the summer has been nothing compared to the pain of not having you around, of thinking you were dead. You don’t even imagine, you will never imagine, because you are… you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I’m done waiting, I’m done wishing, or hoping, or anything else that involves you. I’m done, and I’m leaving right now. I’ve only stick in this awful place just so you could see that I’m not like you, I keep my word. You didn’t… You said you would be here by eight on Tuesday and I waited five long years until you managed to appear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7507387338084275428-7893864137313757578?l=portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/feeds/7893864137313757578/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7507387338084275428&amp;postID=7893864137313757578&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7893864137313757578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7507387338084275428/posts/default/7893864137313757578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portraitof-a-life.blogspot.com/2008/02/hallelujah.html' title='Hallelujah...'/><author><name>Cate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09796365019571277980</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/TJ4D7jYL5qI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Vy6uZVyVCU4/S220/32084_1438936445697_1001587137_31292569_7950820_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_63JyI3HPl1k/R6cHcpfbvmI/AAAAAAAAAJA/BXIXclQEg8o/s72-c/anime.chocolate4breakfast.com_wallpaper_red_1024.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
