<?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-7880472432294913688</id><updated>2012-01-26T01:27:32.989-03:00</updated><category term='formatura'/><category term='ele disse que estava se sentindo um lixo'/><category term='&apos;Diálogo que nunca tive&apos;'/><category term='diálogo que nunca aconteceu.'/><title type='text'>JOYCE</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>462</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7029380242593778624</id><published>2012-01-02T23:26:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T01:27:33.003-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Vamos a Pipa?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ4I4aTaCuo/TwPPXcHyd6I/AAAAAAAAB8M/HH7lEcEN79M/s1600/CIMG3227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ4I4aTaCuo/TwPPXcHyd6I/AAAAAAAAB8M/HH7lEcEN79M/s400/CIMG3227.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Pipa.. Como começar a falar desse lugar paradisíaco? Dessa vez não vou descrever tim por tim, vou enveredar mais como 'dicas'.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Até o início dos anos 80, Pipa (Tibau do Sul) era uma pacata comunidade de pescadores do litoral sul do Rio Grande do Norte, de difícil acesso. Descoberta pelos amantes do surf é hoje um dos roteiros de viagem mais procurados do mundo e de pacata não tem quase nada.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Um paraíso que fica mais de 1200km de Teresina. Longe, mas vale o esforço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;A minha primeira dica é sobre como chegar. Meu irmão fez uma rota guiado pelo GPS. Na ida fomos por Fortaleza e perdemos de 3 a 4 horas de viagem, pois as estradas estão péssimas. Acho uma falta de respeito tanto para os cearenses, quanto para turistas, compradores, estudantes etc. Esse problema já tinha de ser sanado. Olha que já fui muito a Fortaleza (somam-se 4 anos) e essas estradas não melhoraram.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Para quem for de carro é preferível ir por Canindé.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Mas a melhor opção mesmo é se programar pegar uma promo e comprar passagem aérea até Natal. De Natal aluga um carro e vai pra Pipa,&amp;nbsp; que fica cerca de 80 km.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;A viagem foi cansativa, mas quando entramos no centro do vilarejo, a avenida principal fervendo às 22h, despertei do sono na hora, limpei a vista e para fechar nossa chegada nos deparamos com uma casa maravilhosa. Moraria fácil lá. Fiquei em êxtase quando vi que a boate da cidade (Boate dos Calangos) ficava na esquina na rua da 'nossa' casa. E as demais badalações de Pipa. \0/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Recomendo Pipa a todos. Casados, namorados e principalmente aos amigos(as) solteiras, dispostos a curtir um paraíso no RN.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Pipa não é para quem tem preguiça. Só duas praias (Pipa e do Centro) não tem falésias e escadarias. Fazer compras, badalar e comer tem que andar. Definitivamente Pipa não é ambiente para preguiçosos, mas tudo vale à pena, pois o visual é exuberante. Aliás, quem quer descansar faz isso muito bem, pois diferente de outras cidades, não há muito barulho. Nem aqueles carros com paredão de som.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Senti falta uma programação cultural (musical). Acredito que por ser uma praia badalada deveria sim ter na praça apresentações programadas a partir de certo horário. Começando sempre às&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;18h, exemplo. Presenciei dois dias apresentações de estrangeiros. Música e circo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Outra coisa que senti falta foi a companhia das amigas(os). Achei Pipa a 'cara' da minha turma. É legal quando temos companhia, ao menos de uma pessoa disposta a aproveitar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praias&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praia do Amor e dos Afogados -&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;Vista espetacular. Aliás, todas as praias de Pipa são lindas. É a mais badalada de Pipa e o acesso não é nada fácil. Para quem tem dificuldade de subir e descer falésias é ruim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Praia do Madeiro -&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Lindíssimaaaaaaaa. Mamãe diz ser o 'R' de riqueza. Não é lotada, dá pra pegar um bronze tranquilamente, andar e tomar um banho no mar longe da badalação.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praia do Centro -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;É mais família. Não tem escadaria. Por lá guias oferecem os passeios nos barcos e lanchas. Paguei R$ 30 (preço por pessoa) pelo passeio de 1 hora nas praias, para ver os golfinhos e mergulhar em alto-mar.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Recomendo para quem tem estômago forte, porque muitas pessoas passam mal. Fiz a primeira parte bem, mergulhei em alto mar, mas na volta comecei a sentir mal estar, fiquei enjoada, foi traumatizante. Admiro desde sempre os pescadores que vivem no (do) mar.&lt;/span&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praia de Pipa -&lt;/b&gt; Não poderia deixar a praia mais conhecida de região. A origem do nome Pipa foi na época que os colonizadores avistaram uma falésia em formato de pipa, mas não Pipa de empinar, e sim, a Pipa (barril de carvalho que usado para armazenamento de vinhos e outras bebidas).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Dicas rápidas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Se puder vá de avião até Natal. Aluga um carro em Natal, que sai em média R$ 60 a diária e vá até Pipa, localizada há 79km da capital.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- É super delícia para família, casados e namorados. Mas para os solteiros(as) é melhor ainda. Quem gosta de pegação já viu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Passeios. Tem buggy, jardineira, barco. Todos fazem um tour pelas praias, em média R$ 30 a 300, dependendo do seu bolso, gosto e disposição. É só pesquisar. Tem também arvorismo, tirolesa, kayak, bike etc. E claro surf e kitesurf. Peguei numa loja um Guia de Pipa, atualizado com todos os serviços disponíveis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Praia e passeios durante o dia. A noite &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;a galera começa a se concentrar depois das 
21h na Av. dos Golfinhos e os barzinhos tocam música eletrônica e pop rock, indie etc e se estende até às 2h da manhã. Depois todos vão para a boate dos Calangos. Mas sábado
 e domingo no final da rua do cajueiro, a 
turma foi pra festa regada a música eletrônica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- A Avenida dos Golfinhos é a mais badalada, pois se concentra no centro de Pipa, onde tem os barzinhos, lojas, restaurantes. Lojas e restaurantes da avenida só abrem no final da tarde.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Tem mercadinho. Vende 'tudo'. Mamãe comprou filé, mão de vaca pra fazer almoço e churrasco. Então nem dá pra indicar restaurantes, pois comi mais na casa e na praia que é de praxe e sem novidades. Mas aceitando sugestão da jornalista e amiga Lícia Assunção vou deixar 2 indicações.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;** Não sou fã de sorvete, mas Lícia adora e super recomenda a gelateria Preciosa. Diz ser o melhor sorvete que tomou na vida. Indicado também no guia 4 rodas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;** Céu da Pipa e Aruman com deliciosos crepes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;** No mais só posso dizer que tem para todos os gostos e paladares.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Beba muita água e use roupas leves. As pessoas falam de Teresina, mas em Pipa estava quente do mesmo jeito. Não levei nenhuma calça jeans na minha bagagem. &amp;nbsp;Me sinto na obrigação de levar uma mala funcional, ou seja, para 5 dias, 5 a 8 peças. Em Pipa usei 5. Só shorts, camiseta, saia. Levei uma rasteira e sapatilha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Normalmente não sou de comprar. Comprei um maracá e um peixe colorido decorativo. Mas tem camisetas, cangas, bugigangas a preço acessível. Artigos de luxo também se encontram. Tem para todos os bolsos. Só não os fundos e rasgados. Vá preparado!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- Fique sem internet. Sério! Foi a primeira viagem que fiz e passei longe de laptop, celular e lan house. Deixe pra postar tudo depois. Mesmo que a tentação seja grande. rs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;-- A praia fica lotada na virada. Vá cedo, às 21h, pois a praia&amp;nbsp; de Pipa fica lotada. Os fogos são lindíssimos e&amp;nbsp; não é aquela coisa fake e rápida. Os fogos duraram mais de 20 minutos. Depois festa na rua e bares.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Até a próxima postagem!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&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/7880472432294913688-7029380242593778624?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7029380242593778624/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7029380242593778624&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7029380242593778624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7029380242593778624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2012/01/vamos-pipa.html' title='Vamos a Pipa?'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ4I4aTaCuo/TwPPXcHyd6I/AAAAAAAAB8M/HH7lEcEN79M/s72-c/CIMG3227.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3340485788201307712</id><published>2011-12-05T22:40:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T17:17:10.278-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O Rei Ogier</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Meio dia quando a equipe da Tv Assembelia saiu em direção ao Castelo do Ogier. Não imaginávamos que nos esperava era uma história bem interessante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Seguindo pela Br 343, no sentido Teresina – Altos, próximo à primeira linha de trem, uma placa de sinalização ‘Circuito dos Mistérios’, indica o caminho para o conhecido Castelo do Ogê. È só dobrar a esquerda, numa estrada sem pavimentação. Mais à frente outra placa, mas atenção, pois como a estrada se bifurca é preciso saber qual direção seguir, como estávamos sendo orientados seguimos pelo lado certo, entrando a direita. Pronto a adrenalina estava apenas começando.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;A estrada que dá acesso ao castelo é estreita e alguns trechos são críticos, pois tem muitas subidas e descidas, um verdadeiro rally de emoções. Quanto mais entravamos na mata, mas pensávamos o que nos aguardava a frente. A paisagem é espetacular. De uma calmaria inexplicável. Aquém da civilização.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Logo que chegamos fomos recepcionados e para matar um pouco o tempo antes do almoço, seu Ogier nos deu alguns álbuns de fotos para que&amp;nbsp;conhecêssemos&amp;nbsp;seu passado, época de quando morava no Rio e em São Paulo e rico, é ele tinha uma empresa chamada Valete Azul, onde vendia baralhos e&amp;nbsp;pasmem, o lucro mensal era 90 mil reais.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Pulando a parte do almoço fomos em seguida para o castelo. No caminho perguntei a origem do nome Ogier. Ele explicou que quando o pai ainda moço, havia lido a história dos doze pares de França, e gostou do nome e falara que quando tivesse um filho colocaria Ogier.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;"Como o primeiro filho de meu pai foi uma mulher ele logo deu o nome de Osmarina, quando nasci depois veio Ogier, que de trás pra frente pode ser usado Rei G O, assim faço uso", disse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Na minha ignorância momentânea pesquisei o que ele falou sobre os doze pares de França. Formada por doze cavaleiros leais ao Rei Carlos Magno liderado por Rolando, sobrinho do rei,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;era sua tropa de elite pessoal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;A expressão "doze pares" se dá pelo fato dos doze cavaleiros terem extrema semelhança entre si, no que diz respeito à força, habilidade com armas e lealdade ao rei, e daí o termo "par".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Explicado o nome, fomos em direção ao castelo. Logo à frente avistamos o portal, em estilo clássico romano, tem 7 metros de altura por 21 de largura. Dois leões babilônicos, com cara de gente, barba e bigode, asas e cinco pernas. Seu Ogier comenta que no meio ficava a estátua da deusa romana Diana, mas devido à ventania tombou lá de cima.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Calma, estávamos apenas no começo. Seguimos e avistamos um morro, com cerca de 50 metros de altura, com duas esfinges indicando que ali é o castelo. Arrisquei e passei entre os trocos pela passarela, pois não é cimentada. Subimos a pé até a escadaria, onde pode ser visto um leão inglês de 2 metros.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Finalmente dentro do castelo seu Ogier sentado na maquete de barro da obra começa a explicar como tudo começou, os planos para continuar a construção, como o castelo deve ficar e seu maior sonho que é ver ele erguido e servindo de ponto turístico.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Francisco Ogier da Silva, cearense de 68 anos, que há 32 anos quer transformar seu maior sonho em realidade. E escolheu o Piauí para realizar sua obra. Homem de origem simples que com muito esforço e trabalho conseguiu se destacar ganhou muito dinheiro, mas só daria por satisfeito quando construísse o castelo. Finaliza: &lt;i&gt;‘sou pequeno e feio, mas meu espírito sempre foi nobre’.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;O que me admirou foi o desapego ao material. Quando todos lutam para&amp;nbsp;possuírem&amp;nbsp;bens, seu Ogier conseguiu ter muito dinheiro, abriu mão de todo patrimônio que construiu, e sem prejudicar ninguém, foi em busca de São Paulo para concretizar o sonho de adolescência. Muitos podem julgá-lo e falar que ele é louco, mas só ele tem o livre arbítrio de escolher o que quer e o fez mesmo com as adversidades da vida e família. Só temos que respeitar e admirar o que ele até então construiu. E lógico perguntei se ele é feliz; sem titubear disse que &lt;i&gt;"Sim, eu sou muito feliz, não tenho nada pra reclamar". &lt;/i&gt;Não cansa de explicar sobre o que ainda vai fazer e fala que morreria feliz se visse o castelo terminado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sobre o Castelo&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;(estilo Medieval)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;O projeto idealizado por seu o Ogier apresenta 6 torres, sendo no 3° e último andar da torre mãe de 40 metros a suíte presidencial, uma&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;capela, uma praça, muralhas de 7 metros, salão nobre, salão de inverno, adega, salão de jogos e uma decoração ao estilo francês de&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Luis XIV, o rei sol. Além disso, ele conta que quer uma enorme estátua de 6 metros que representa o Colosso de Rodes, uma das 7 maravilhas do mundo, para que todos, ao entrar no castelo, passem obrigatoriamente entre as pernas da estátua, reproduzindo o ritual de proteção da cidade de Rodes, como na antiguidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;Tanto pra escrever mas tive que ser breve, pois ficou bem melhor em vídeo. Vai ao ar na íntegra no Programa Felicidade, todas as quintas às 20h, na Tv Assembleia, ainda sem data de exibição. Queria agradecer ao Kernard pela pauta e pelo exemplo de vida do seu Ogier.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fonte:&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://krudu.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kernard Kaverna&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;// &lt;a href="http://castelodeogier.blogspot.com/"&gt;Castelo do Ogier&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;// Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fotos: Joyce Vieira&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&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/7880472432294913688-3340485788201307712?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3340485788201307712/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3340485788201307712&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3340485788201307712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3340485788201307712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/12/o-rei-ogier.html' title='O Rei Ogier'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gUNsCvK-qE8/Tt1zXyHZgAI/AAAAAAAAB54/ag03UoFtrVw/s72-c/CIMG2703.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3676886715337699425</id><published>2011-11-21T16:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T20:43:17.249-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Por que amo tanto meu cachorro?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0LS4FRHt4HA/TscrY-c5kfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/ELMuq9jRIts/s1600/307899_270204689666473_100000308329845_887663_1685154771_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0LS4FRHt4HA/TscrY-c5kfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/ELMuq9jRIts/s400/307899_270204689666473_100000308329845_887663_1685154771_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Prazer, meu nome é Jack!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Atrás do que escrever, olhei para o lado e vi o Jack. Jack é meu pit bull de cinco meses. E logo me veio à cabeça. É porque não? Por que amo tanto meu cachorro? Jamais pensamos que fossemos ter um cachorro em casa. Mamãe sempre teve ojeriza por animal. Não que ela seja insensível, é que requer cuidados. Mas ela esqueceu esse detalhe rápido. Brigou um dia dizendo que ia dar ele, e rapidamente o problema do cocô foi solucionado. Nós o amamos. O ‘piratinha’ chegou na hora certa. Ele trouxe luz, alegria e união.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;A pauta do dia é o Jack. Ele comeu? O que ele fez hoje? Ele vai ficar sozinho? Levou ele pra passear? Admiro e sinto o amor que o Jack tem por nós. Os cães não tem medo de amar. Posso chegar do jeito que for, mas quando coloco o pé em casa ele me acarinha, pula e me lambe. Até parece que fiquei anos fora de casa. Muitos temem e questionem o fato de criarmos um pit bull diante dos acontecimentos já noticiados, mas nada justifica apologias e atos que gerem repúdio e maus tratos. As atitudes do cão são reflexos da criação do dono. Obvio que ele tem instinto, mas se tratado com muito carinho e amor, não vai atacar, estando no seu espaço e se sentindo ameaçado é improvável que fique passivo. Mas o Jack é terapia. É meu companheiro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;As histórias de amor são muitas. Busquei pouquíssimas, porém intensas. Perguntei para Bárbara Dantas, uma amiga, porquê ela ama tanto seu cachorro. A princípio ela respondeu: &lt;i&gt;Oxe Joyce, amor não se explica. Não tenho como explicar porque amo tanto meu cachorro. Ele é meu bb, o ganhei quando tinha 11 anos. Mas pra que você quer saber?&lt;/i&gt; No outro dia recebi um e-mail dela me contando a história de amor pelo Nick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Quando li quase chorei. Vou publicar o depoimento na íntegra ao final do texto. Ananda Sampaio, jornalista e minha amiga disse que a Jane (em homenagem a escritora inglesa Jane Austen), tem uma dálmata de quase 3 anos. Ela me respondeu que a Jane é a sua melhor amiga. Que não tem como explicar esse sentimento e resume como “coisa da alma”. &amp;nbsp;Continuou afirmando que acha maravilhosa a capacidade que a cadela tem de se comunicar, se fazer entender. Indaguei sobre os maus tratos aos animais, hoje muito noticiado nas redes sociais, Tvs e jornais. Ananda foi categórica: &lt;i&gt;Essas pessoas que maltratam animais estão fazendo mal a tudo que há de mais puro e divino na terra. Quem não gosta de cachorro é porque não aprendeu a falar com o olhar.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Jane&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;A jornalista Marília Lustosa é apaixonada por seus cães. Quando ganhei o Jack, sabia que ela tinha dois pit bulls, conversei, tirei algumas dúvidas e de vez em quando troco ideia com ela. Os cachorros dela são crescidos, são lindos, saudáveis e amados. Pra ela o amor que eles oferecem é puro, é único.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Marília contou que quando saiu da casa dos pais, eles pediram que ela não os levasse , daí ela começou a procurar um novo cão. Com ajuda da Apipa - Associação Piauiense de Proteção e Amor aos Animais começou a olhar o Jack . Foi amor à primeira vista e depois de algumas visitas ela adotou o Jack de 3 anos.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Jack&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Aqui em Teresina tem uma instituição que cuida de animais. A Associação Piauiense de Proteção e Amor aos Animais –&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/apipa10"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"&gt;APIPA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; &amp;nbsp;abriga e cuida de animais carentes e mau tratados. A instituição promove campanhas educativas com o objetivo de conscientizar a sociedade quanto aos diretos dos animais, colaborando com as entidades e órgãos oficiais competentes no sentido de aprimorar a legislação e anteprojetos, contribuindo para ampliação dos Direitos Univerais dos Animais em harmonia com os seres humanos e com a natureza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Quem quiser ajudar pode clicar no nome APIPA e vai ser direcionado para o facebook da associação. Deixo aqui o e-mail e telefone. Pra fazer o bem é só querer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;E-mail - apipa10@apipa10.org&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Telefone (86) 8846 8020&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Meu amor ao Nick - Bárbara Dantas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nick&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ainda lembro do dia que soube que ia ganhar ele. A cachorra do meu primo tava grávida e ele me prometeu um cachorrinho. Eu tinha 11 anos, e era louca por animais. Corri pra casa e pedi pra minha mãe deixar, ela deixou e eu fiquei contando os dias pra ele nascer.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Um dia o telefone tocou, era meu primo dizendo que tinham nascido os filhotinhos. Não lembro de com foi o trajeto até a casa dele, foram 7 quarteirões correndo... rsrs quando cheguei lá e vi os filhotes fiquei doida querendo todos.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Como toda criança gosta de competir, meu primo me disse que eu ficaria com o mais feio. E me entregou, eu peguei ele no colo toda satisfeita e fui caminhando. Todos os dias agradeço por meu primo ter me dado o mais feio, e não só pq com o tempo ele ficou o mais bonito (palavras do primo) mais pq ele é a luz da minha casa. Lembro dos primeiros dias, da primeira noite. Ele chorava, e eu não dormia me perguntando pq ele não me amava, pq ele não queria ficar ali... foi torturante. Mais passou. Todos os coleguinhas da rua queria vê-lo, pegá-lo, eu não deixava, dizia que ele tava dormindo, ninguém podia mexer, incomodar. Ora, eu não gostava de ser acordada, pq deixaria que fizessem isso com ele? A ordem era essa, não faça com ele o que vc não faria comigo. E comigo, ou é amor, ou saia fora, sempre foi assim, sempre será.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Meu Pai dizia que não queria ele lá. E repetia todo dia que ia jogar ele no lixo. Passava por ele e nem olhava. Mais eu ficava incabulada pq qd meu pai chegava, ele ia correndo abanando o rabinho atrás de meu Pai, e meu Pai brigando, mandando ele sair, explusando ele do quarto. Ele ficava do lado de fora olhando pra porta com cara de “Pq ele não me deixa entar, não tô entendendo??” Um dia sai com minha mãe, quando chegamos, entramos sem zuada, normalmente, e qual não foi nossa surpresa, meu Pai estava deitado na cama, brincando feito criança com ele, enquanto na TV, pasmem, o jogo do time do coração dele, Vasco da Gama passava como se não fosse nada. Quando ele nos viu, tossiu, tentou disfarçar, disse que o cachorro subiu na cama e ele tentava tirar. Sendo que ele era tão pequeninho ainda que nem conseguia pular.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A partir desse dia pronto. Tava assumido, ele era parte da família. A briga era... ele dorme no meu quarto ou no seu! Minha mãe dizia logo. A casa e minha, ele dorme no meu quarto. Meu Pai concordava e eu chorava. Mais aceitava. Pq também ia dormir lá. Lá ele tinha a caminha dele, e os lençóis, até hoje ele so dorme enrolado em um lençol. Todo domingo era dia de banho, e depois rede. Sim... rsrs ele adora dormir de rede, desde bebê. Sempre quando terminava de banhar, pulava na rede. São muitas lembranças, muitas por ser tão egoísta nem consigo dividir, transborda meu coração de amor. Outras as pessoas acabam duvidando, mais quem faz parte de minha vida desde sempre sabe, que, por exemplo, meu cachorro tomou mamadeira ate os 6 meses. Não tinha essa. Tinha que está em casa, ou eu ou minha mãe ou meu pai, para nas horas certas ele tomar a mamadeira. Parece frescura? Ele não conseguia comer outra coisa, era meio doentinho. Eu chamo de amor.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A lembrança mais marcante com certeza foi o dia da morte de meu pai. 12 de Janeiro de 2003. Ele tinha 2 anos. Às 6 da manhã ele levantou, e começou a uivar, latia e uivava. Já pra meio dia os vizinhos começaram a perguntar o que estava acontecendo. O Nick, apesar de ser um cachorro de porte médio, não era barulhento, só latia nas brincadeiras ou quando pressentia perigo. E a gente sem entender, e ele uivava e latia sem parar. Às 18h ele parou. Fui tentar dar comida pra ele, pq não havia comido nada o dia todo. Ele se recusava só deitado choramingando, e dando uns uivos de vez em quando. Meu tio chegou em casa às 19h dizendo que meu pai havia sumido. Às 21h chegou a notícia do falecimento, &amp;nbsp;às 23h o caixão. Meu cachorro teve que ficar preso no quintal, por causa das visitas. No interior, os velórios são nas casas, e sempre chega muita gente. Alguém sem querer abriu o portão e ele correu, não fez nada, não olhou pra ninguém, só deitou em baixo do caixão, como fazia quando meu pai chegava e deitava na rede. E ficou como se esperando ele levantar pra dar um afago na cabeça dele.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Meu cachorro é importante pra mim, pq sou pra ele. Quando ele acha que tem alguém gritando comigo, ele avança. Ele deita ao meu lado quando tô doente, pq minhas melhores lembranças também são dele, e com ele. Pq ele faz parte de mim, de minha família, minha casa, minha vida. Sem ele, não sei como seria minha vida. Ter ele por perto é uma alegria. Hoje, já bem velhinho e mais dependente, voltou a ser como quando criança, o que me faz recordar muito aquela época.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;E é isso. Amor não se explica, só sente. O que sei, é que pra fazer parte de minha vida, não precisa amar os animais como eu amo, mais tem que respeitá-los. Não precisa tratar seus animais como eu trato, mas precisa saber que se vc chegar na minha casa, será muitíssimo bem recebido, mais não sou a única dona, ele Tb é. E entre vc e ele. Eu o escolho, sempre.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Agora vocês entendem como é maravilhoso ter um animal em casa? Depoimento digno de uma postagem. Nem preciso escrever mais. Beijos e até o próximo post.&lt;br /&gt;
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Fonte: APIPA e depoimentos&lt;br /&gt;
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Fotos cedidas&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/7880472432294913688-3676886715337699425?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3676886715337699425/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3676886715337699425&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3676886715337699425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3676886715337699425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/11/por-que-amo-tanto-meu-cachorro.html' title='Por que amo tanto meu cachorro?'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0LS4FRHt4HA/TscrY-c5kfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/ELMuq9jRIts/s72-c/307899_270204689666473_100000308329845_887663_1685154771_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8133281597094651422</id><published>2011-11-10T01:19:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T02:48:34.407-03:00</updated><title type='text'>As coisas boas que o jornalismo proporciona</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;É porque chega de falar mal. Muitas vezes pensei em largar essa profissão, mas quando penso &amp;nbsp;em algo que poderia substituí-la, não me vem nada. Aliás, o que imagino está intrínseco. Muitos jornalistas&amp;nbsp;se dedicam a outras profissões, voltam a estudar ou simplesmente abandonam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Não vou citar falhas, como a falta de ética, anti profissionalismo, insegurança, perspectivas e dinheiro, mas enumerar o que o jornalismo nos proporciona. Para tal, fiz uma enquete com amigos (as) jornalistas e publicitários (as). Estou numa fase numérica, não sei o motivo, acredito que enumerar dá uma melhor organizada nas minhas ideais. Pontuei aleatoriamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fH7ZLv6sPgY/TrtUiB0pU_I/AAAAAAAAB4w/eSpiD4CkBvA/s1600/_DSC6419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="261" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fH7ZLv6sPgY/TrtUiB0pU_I/AAAAAAAAB4w/eSpiD4CkBvA/s400/_DSC6419.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;1_ A primeira 'coisa' é a &lt;i&gt;Inquietude&lt;/i&gt;. Somos inquietos por natureza, por profissão ou os dois ao mesmo tempo. Jornalista gosta de sentir que está produzindo bem. Sempre em busca da melhor produção e reportagem. Gosta de movimento, do stress produtivo. Pois dá aquele gosto de trabalho realizado com sucesso. Quando a quietude tenta se instalar, de repente tudo muda. Principalmente dentro das redações.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;2_ &lt;i&gt;Exclusividade&lt;/i&gt;. Nós jornalistas sabemos de muitas informações de bastidores, em primeira mão. Quem está fora do circuito talvez não tenha acesso a muitas informações reais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;3_ e 4_ &lt;i&gt;Amigos e Interação&lt;/i&gt;. Não somos uma categoria unida. Existe muita cobrice no nosso habitat, mas sempre fazemos boas amizades. Amigos de redação, amigos 'de rua', amigos 'invisíveis', aqueles que vivemos conversando para marcação de alguma pauta, mas nunca tivemos contato pessoal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;5_ &lt;i&gt;Amadurecimento, Entendimento e Oportunidades&lt;/i&gt;. Com o tempo vamos sentindo a necessidade de aprender mais e mais. Vamos amadurecendo profissionalmente, nos aperfeiçoando, aprendendo e como muitos jornalistas têm empresas ou prestam serviço em outras instituições, quando aparece algum trabalho, pode esperar o seu celular tocar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;6_ &lt;i&gt;Contatos e Fontes&lt;/i&gt;. Com credibilidade profissional, reconhecimento e respeito, não precisa se desesperar, sua agenda está ali recheada de números, seu e-mail e seu celular estarão ali para ajudá-lo a procura do fechamento daquela matéria e/ou entrevista.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;7_ &lt;i&gt;O Debate&lt;/i&gt;. Veio para ajudar a termos uma visão crítica do mundo, de interesse social e discernimento sobre os acontecimentos. Dentro do contexto o jornalista consegue ver os acontecimentos a sua volta de uma forma diferente. Ananda Sampaio argumenta que &lt;i&gt;nós temos uma percepção sobre o mundo que a mídia constrói e que percebemos melhor sobre as limitações midiáticas&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;8_ &lt;i&gt;Vivenciar outras realidades.&lt;/i&gt; Histórias comoventes, de vida, inspiradoras e reflexivas. Foi o que me fez escrever sobre o assunto. Estou na produção de um programa (&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-Woe0NdIKU"&gt;Felicidade&lt;/a&gt;) que conta histórias de vida, exemplos de como levar a vida de uma maneira leve e feliz e me deu um UP emocional.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;9_&lt;i&gt;Riscos&lt;/i&gt;. Jornalismo investigativo. Tá, correr risco não é bom, mas todo jornalista adora fazer uma reportagem investigativa. Marília Lustosa disse: "&lt;i&gt;O direito que a sociedade tem de ter acesso a fatos obscuros, principalmente quando ao jornalismo investigativo, mostra o que existe por trás de temas polêmicos, como o caso da morte de Fernanda Lages"&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7FFGz-Ew0xI/TrtXOtECxxI/AAAAAAAAB5A/5chWoEam8es/s1600/_DSC2724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="263" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7FFGz-Ew0xI/TrtXOtECxxI/AAAAAAAAB5A/5chWoEam8es/s400/_DSC2724.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;10_ &lt;i&gt;Complexo de Clark Kent.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;'Salvar o mundo'. Utilidade pública. Presta serviço para população. Vai também além de revolução, para Laudeci Barros, &lt;i&gt;"o jornalismo proporciona o conhecimento e oportunidade para divulgar e apresentar causas que ajudem e modifiquem a sociedade para o bem, melhorias e o bem estar de cada um. É maravilhoso a sensação de produção de uma matéria que leve ao público novos conceitos e novos conhecimentos, ajudando os espectadores a entender e se instruir sobre determinados assuntos"&lt;/i&gt;. A jornalista Tereza Val, diz ser fã do bom jornalismo, &amp;nbsp;não como ação de heroísmo, mas como interlocutor social, somente.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Ela disse ainda que o jornalismo trouxe a universalização da linguagem, a democratização de regimes políticos e econômicos do mundo, a possibilidade de equidar medidas públicas negativas antes de serem definidas pelos gestores e o desvendamento de injustiças sociais e a aceitação das diferenças pessoais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;11_ &lt;i&gt;Independência&lt;/i&gt;. Utopia. Mas com a criação das redes sociais todos nós podemos escrever livremente.. #mas cuidado com o que se escreve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zYhDWnXzs-c/TrtXr7WYPHI/AAAAAAAAB5I/K8iqUizien0/s1600/_DSC2148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="263" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zYhDWnXzs-c/TrtXr7WYPHI/AAAAAAAAB5I/K8iqUizien0/s400/_DSC2148.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;12_ &lt;i&gt;Conhecer outras profissões.&lt;/i&gt; Absorver, conhecer, utilizar o que elas nos oferecem. Jornalista sabe de tudo e não lembra nada amanhã. Juliana Pompeu disse que como publicitária, conhecer uma nova área da comunicação e viver o jornalismo acrescentou positivamente na sua vida profissional. A publicitária Nayana Franklin acrescenta que quando vai criar uma peça publicitária se pega pensando jornalisticamente, pois sabe-se que o texto publicitário é mais emotivo, tem mais sentimento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;13_ &lt;i&gt;Viagens&lt;/i&gt;. Tinha esquecido essa parte maravilhosa que é viajar. Quem me fez lembrar foi um dinossauro do jornalismo piauiense, Walteres Arraes. Numa conversa despretensiosa entramos no assunto e ele disse que uma das coisas boas do jornalismo são as viagens. Para ele a mais marcante foi fazer a cobertura do papa no Brasil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Quer mais? Então comente. O loucura a cada dia está aberto a opiniões. Não vou finalizar o texto. Até o próximo post, amém!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Fotos: &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/victormasantos/"&gt;Victor Gabriel&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-8133281597094651422?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8133281597094651422/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8133281597094651422&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8133281597094651422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8133281597094651422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/11/as-coisas-boas-que-o-jornalismo_1368.html' title='As coisas boas que o jornalismo proporciona'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fH7ZLv6sPgY/TrtUiB0pU_I/AAAAAAAAB4w/eSpiD4CkBvA/s72-c/_DSC6419.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7861322509066573170</id><published>2011-10-26T00:45:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T01:38:18.479-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Os 7 pecados fotográficos</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y2K-mhgov-4/Tqd78QAcB5I/AAAAAAAAB3g/uT3CcNXAd2g/s1600/DSC_0282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y2K-mhgov-4/Tqd78QAcB5I/AAAAAAAAB3g/uT3CcNXAd2g/s400/DSC_0282.JPG" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Marina Linard)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;1 – Luz&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;A luz é a base da boa fotografia. Ela tem o objetivo de
emocionar, criar clima. E sempre foi meu maior problema com fotografia. Falta de
atenção, falta de sensibilidade, poucos recursos (flash, rebatedor etc). Na luz
você tem que observar intensidade, direção, natureza e cor em ambientes
externos, já em estúdio o trabalho é 'todo' iluminação. Falando um pouco sobre
cor é importante que se tenha conhecimento. Quente ou Frio? Alto, médio ou
baixo contraste? (Modelo). Nunca tinha atentado para isso. Pensava que toda cor
dava certo pra fotografar, mas só depois que fiz curso de personal stylist
soube que a cor tal, para ambiente X e objeto Y beneficia a foto/fotografado. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K-VLtx0E6G0/Tqd_7MgqAzI/AAAAAAAAB34/s1yX61LuyLA/s1600/Bal%25C3%25A9+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="190" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K-VLtx0E6G0/Tqd_7MgqAzI/AAAAAAAAB34/s1yX61LuyLA/s400/Bal%25C3%25A9+073.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Escola de ballet Hely Batista)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;2 – Enquadramento&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;O que vou fotografar? Quais detalhes vou explorar? O que
quero mostrar? Já tirei muita foto torta, quando me atentava para um detalhe,
esquecia o outro. Mas se pode brincar também com enquadramento. Existem
milhares de fotos ‘incertas’ maravilhosas. E dentro da composição temos os
cortes e planos. Tudo depende da perspectiva do trabalho.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;3 – Obturador x
Diafragma &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;3. 1 foco automático ou manual?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Com o advento da fotografia digital basta só um click e
pronto. Pra que me preocupar se a máquina vai fazer isso por mim? Vou no &lt;i&gt;Auto &lt;/i&gt;e pronto. Isso é muito comum. Atire
a primeira máquina quem nunca pensou ou fez muitas fotos no &lt;i&gt;Auto&lt;/i&gt;. Eu fiz muitas por comodismo. E
óbvio o resultado é diferente, porque pode-se ‘calcular’ diafragma e o
obturador e fazer uns efeitos bons. O mesmo vale para o foco.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;4 – Cenário&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;4.1 Produção&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;“Como a foto tem que
ser”. Antes de cair numa sessão fotográfica é necessário saber que tipo de
ensaio se quer realizar. Um bom ensaio requer acabamento e/ou cuidados
específicos. Qualquer objeto fora do lugar já tira atenção para o verdadeiro
ponto focal. Por isso existe pré produção. O que vou fotografar? O que o
cliente quer? E pesquisa.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PwW1HWNJo2w/Tqd-W6aLqTI/AAAAAAAAB3w/mIFlZmZrJUA/s1600/DSC_0281..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PwW1HWNJo2w/Tqd-W6aLqTI/AAAAAAAAB3w/mIFlZmZrJUA/s400/DSC_0281..jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Rosângela Santana)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;5 – Photoshop&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;5.1 Edição e Apresentação do trabalho&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Recurso muito utilizado hoje e sempre. Quem não usa pra dar
aquele acabamento ou melhorada nas fotografias? Sou adepta ao uso suave, só pra
tentar corrigir umas falhas técnicas. Gosto de imperfeições. Gosto de
realidade. Ah, não posso esquecer outro programa bastante usado hoje, que é o
ligthroom. Ainda não usei. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Depois da edição, normalmente vamos apresentar o resultado do
trabalho para o cliente e já vacilei muito no quesito quantidade de imagens e
originais. É bom que se defina quantas fotos (e por quanto vai sair) e
originais são de uso exclusivo do profissional.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3CBDDXCeqTg/TqeAwaICPzI/AAAAAAAAB4A/5zwRtzrmO5Y/s1600/Ontem+1267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3CBDDXCeqTg/TqeAwaICPzI/AAAAAAAAB4A/5zwRtzrmO5Y/s400/Ontem+1267.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Paixão de Cristo)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;6 – Equipamento&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;6.1 Sensibilidade&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;Definiria como um estalo. Quando você de repente tem uma ideia de como fazer, o que usar.. Para meu amigo fotógrafo &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/victormasantos"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Victor Gabriel&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;,&amp;nbsp;s&lt;i&gt;ensibilidade é algo que você tem e que os outros acham diferente..&amp;nbsp;aquilo é diferente, aquele cara consegue captar uma coisa que ninguém viu, ele tem sensibilidade.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;6.2 Criatividade= pesquisa e sensibilidade&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Investir em equipamento é muito importante. E melhor;
equipamento certo para a especialidade X do profissional. Mas já ouvi de famoso
fotógrafo: &lt;i&gt;Joyce conheço gente que vive
trocando de equipamento, mas não é a cam e sim o fotógrafo.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;Você pode ter o melhor equipamento, o mais
moderno, mas se não tiver sensibilidade, criatividade, não adianta. Tanto a básica,
quanto a melhor cam do mercado fazem ótimas fotos.&lt;/i&gt; Fiquei feliz ao ouvir,
sinal de que ainda me resta esperança. Admito, meu erro foi ter parado e não
ter investido e estudado. Mas...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Rosângela Santana)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;7 – Modelo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;7.1 Direção da Modelo&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;Li numa apostila o seguinte: Saber, conhecer e conseguir. Deixar o fotografado a vontade e relax pra captar o que se quer mostrar.. saber a quantidade de corpo exposto, posição da cabeça e olhar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;7.2 Make e Hair&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Quesito importantíssimo para o trabalho. Como gosto de
fotografia sensual o primeiro passo é deixar a pessoa à vontade. Não tive muito problema porque normalmente procuro fotografar
pessoas conhecidas(que foram&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;pouquíssimas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;). Na verdade escolho quem vou fotografar seminu, então já
faço um filtro de quem pode me render boas fotos, mas claro, sempre aberta a
propostas de trabalho. No seminu o principal foco é a luz, make leve, pois
o ponto focal é o corpo ou/e atitude ou expressões suaves. Aliás tudo depende do trabalho proposto e preferência. Fotografia de moda que também curto precisa de uma produção mais e mais apurada, roupa, acessórios, cabelo e maquiagem.&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/7880472432294913688-7861322509066573170?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7861322509066573170/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7861322509066573170&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7861322509066573170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7861322509066573170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/10/os-7-pecados-fotograficos.html' title='Os 7 pecados fotográficos'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y2K-mhgov-4/Tqd78QAcB5I/AAAAAAAAB3g/uT3CcNXAd2g/s72-c/DSC_0282.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2820652134912706540</id><published>2011-10-24T22:45:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T11:55:47.100-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fotografar</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ikiWBjA-3YE/TqYNKF1KVVI/AAAAAAAAB2g/dEuBytKlwU4/s1600/joyfoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ikiWBjA-3YE/TqYNKF1KVVI/AAAAAAAAB2g/dEuBytKlwU4/s400/joyfoto.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Olympus guerreira)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Talvez tenha começado a gostar de fotografia desde pequena.
Não lembro quase nada da infância. Meu pai tinha um amigo fotógrafo e naquela
época o acesso a câmeras analógicas era bem restrito e os filmes caros, como sobravam
uns rolos o amigo dava pro meu pai. Então imaginem uma porrada de fotos que
tenho criançinha. Gosto de vê-las de vez em quando. Mamãe disse que eu gostava
de ser fotografada e escrever também... Há uns anos atrás não gostava de
ser fotografada, questão de auto estima, hoje, por querer fracionar e armazenar
ou porque existem imagens que precisam ser apenas lembradas.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Meu professor de Fotojornalismo - Orlando Berti)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Amigo da FSA - Leonardo David)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Mas foi na faculdade que me apaixonei pela fotografia. Saia
com um amigo pela cidade e regiões só para fotografar e porque meu forte sempre
foi viajar palavra mágica aos olhos e ouvidos. Usava o equipamento da faculdade e toda
atenção era redobrada. Foco, obturador e diafragma fariam toda a diferença,
pois um filme perdido já era. Não que hoje esses recursos sejam descartáveis,
me entenda bem, mas não tinha como deletar e recomeçar. E lógico, perdi muitas
fotos.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Awxoy1nRWEw/TqYOvAia1sI/AAAAAAAAB24/7SNprUELuwU/s1600/P8160143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Awxoy1nRWEw/TqYOvAia1sI/AAAAAAAAB24/7SNprUELuwU/s400/P8160143.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Quilombola)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6CJbMlEzNo0/TqYO4S47YQI/AAAAAAAAB3A/fmiyfN2wBE8/s1600/DSC04158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6CJbMlEzNo0/TqYO4S47YQI/AAAAAAAAB3A/fmiyfN2wBE8/s400/DSC04158.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;(7 Cidades)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TOthfWOg6jk/TqYO5YHdfoI/AAAAAAAAB3I/aDPSXHrStvY/s1600/OgAAAFxPWs65NAtqqoJz6vdLl27LxlOBoEHfGmZ68pUtgUem6tuDoQO5x7WlRwqSquIOBdPYcnJp9HvNnYFyGf4wvSYAm1T1U_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TOthfWOg6jk/TqYO5YHdfoI/AAAAAAAAB3I/aDPSXHrStvY/s400/OgAAAFxPWs65NAtqqoJz6vdLl27LxlOBoEHfGmZ68pUtgUem6tuDoQO5x7WlRwqSquIOBdPYcnJp9HvNnYFyGf4wvSYAm1T1U_0.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;(Minha 1ª modelo - Alice)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-to8AgmbqvTo/TqYO6MWM4JI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/KSU9qajzDrw/s1600/P8160128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-to8AgmbqvTo/TqYO6MWM4JI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/KSU9qajzDrw/s400/P8160128.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Amarante 2006)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Tinha muita vontade de ter uma cam digital, demorou um pouco,
mas acabei ganhando uma Olympus. Pronto, não me desgrudei. Tenho uma caixa de cds
só com fotos dela e foi com ela que fiz meu primeiro ensaio sensual. E outros
momentos legais, como viagens, raves e shows.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PT93ChMQI70/TqYQeWgsUKI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/ldOLWJ9BI5M/s1600/ok.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PT93ChMQI70/TqYQeWgsUKI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/ldOLWJ9BI5M/s320/ok.jpg" width="198" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Eu e ela)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Até que em 2008 comprei a Nikon D40, acredito que já devo ter
mais de 3 mil clicks. Se desde 2005 eu tivesse me dedicado com afinco estaria
com vasto conhecimento, mas as coisas vão mudando, perdi a vontade, comecei a
focar em outros acontecimentos da vida, tanto que quase a vendi. Nunca deu certo.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Não dizem que a voz do povo é a voz de Deus? Sabe quando você começa a prestar bem atenção no que as pessoas falam? No meu caso, pessoas próximas me procuraram, amigos(as) me indicaram e uma amiga disse:&lt;i&gt; Joyce tu tá perdendo tempo, vai fotografar, tem potencial, tem boas fotos&lt;/i&gt;. Analisei, tive um dia nostálgico e&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"&gt;decidi que voltaria a fotografar, pois lembro de comentar aqui numa dessas postagens que sempre foi um dos meus projetos e me faz feliz.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;p.s. No outro post vou falar sobre meus 7 pecados fotográficos.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/7880472432294913688-2820652134912706540?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2820652134912706540/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2820652134912706540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2820652134912706540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2820652134912706540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/10/fotografar.html' title='Fotografar'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ikiWBjA-3YE/TqYNKF1KVVI/AAAAAAAAB2g/dEuBytKlwU4/s72-c/joyfoto.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-977404720657958505</id><published>2011-10-16T23:31:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T15:22:57.798-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Continuo tentando</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Às vezes me pego
pensando como posso gostar de um filho da puta preconceituoso como você. É
tanta demagogia que me dá nojo. Fico me perguntando se eu te amo mesmo ou é só
coisa da minha cabeça. Só de pensar que te amo, já é amor. Porque amor tem
dessas coisas de aceitação, respeito pelo que o outro é e pensa. É aquilo de
querer o bem e que seja feliz.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Sabe aquela sensação de
felicidade, de sorrir à toa pelas ruas, o dia todo? Não quero mais sentir isso.
Um dia acaba. Já me ocorreu.. É lindo, mas não quero.. Eu te amo por que quando
estou com você tenho meia hora de prazer e depois quero sair correndo, mas
fico. As vezes é um saco quando ele vem com suas análises sobre a vida e as como as pessoas são, mas até que gosto, ele tem razão as vezes, eu mesmo, já fiz uso de uma ou outra coisa que
ele disse. O problema é achar que sempre tem razão, coisa de gente orgulhosa e arrogante, mas vi que isso é uma
maneira de se defender, autoafirmação. Abestado. Lembrei de quando ficamos
pela primeira vez, foi péssimo, prometi que não ia mais ficar com ele, falei na
maior cara de pau &lt;i&gt;'não fico'&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;sou nem égua.&lt;/i&gt;. Disse umas dezenas vezes, só da
boca pra fora. Já ia esquecendo.. Da primeira vez que ficamos eu péssima, uma
amiga liga ai eu disse:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;mulher, esse cara é uma Joyce homem, todo bruto, adoro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;. Continuo com a mesma opinião, mas completo dizendo que é uma Joyce homem, muito parecido
comigo, mas é bem sucedido e ainda não sou e tem uns agravantes que não tenho.
Mas é uma boa pessoa, perdido, mas é gente boníssima. Tem meu respeito e
admiração. Me sinto idiota as vezes e sei da mais pura verdade sobre tudo isso,
mas quero escrever, quero exorcizar ele daqui de dentro e que se torne
mais um alguém que tenho apreço sem sentir essas frescuras, não tenho medo de
senti-las, mas é um saco ficar levando adiante um sentimento que só eu quero. O
problema das pessoas é que elas só querem aquilo que não podem ter. Já ouvi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;muito&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Joyce tu és diferente, tu
és linda, tu és intelectual, é gostosa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;.. Porra nenhuma. Duvido
que ensaiem alguma loucura do verbo tentar comigo. Quiser que chamem isso de
afetação, mas cansei dessa demagogia, dessa&amp;nbsp;hipocrisia do verbo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;quero amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;. Tem muita covardia nisso. Ou não sabem o que querem. Ou não querem. Ah, não estou procurando O AMOR, só estou escrevendo a situação que me encontro. Por mim dava como assunto encerrado, mas falta alguma coisa que não sei explicar. Poder ser coisa da minha cabeça. Mas sei lá, meu sexto sentido diz outra. Tanta coisa que tenho de ler, ouvir, sentir. Um muito obrigado era bem vindo, sinal de sensibilidade. Sou dona das minhas escolhas. Mas sei lá, um dia passa..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-977404720657958505?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/977404720657958505/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=977404720657958505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/977404720657958505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/977404720657958505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/10/as-vezes-me-pego-pensando-como-posso.html' title='Continuo tentando'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2737152650246559133</id><published>2011-09-12T00:32:00.010-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T01:05:45.032-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Buenos Aires 11 a 21 de agosto</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Comprei um livreto com uma capa de couro na Feira de San Telmo e escrevi o que pude sobre minha estadia em Buenos Aires. Imaginava que ia ser uma viagem boa, mas foi muito mais que esperava, foi maravilhosa, marcante e deixou sabor de quero mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Quando decidi passar 10 dias por lá, temi ser muito tempo, mas os dias foram passando e a vontade de continuar foi aumentando. Buenos Aires é apaixonante. Arquitetura esplêndida. Pesquisei, li e ouvi muitas histórias, mas é o velho clichê de sempre 'só indo para tirar suas conclusões'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me preocupei em montar um roteiro dos principais pontos turísticos da cidade, mas chegando lá fiz o inverso e troquei o dia pela noite. E que noites.. Buenos Aires é vida loca.. é um pedaço da Europa na América do Sul. É romântica para os enamorados, mas para os solteiros é agitação. Claro que visitei os pontos turísticos, com exceção de La Boca, Palermo Soho e Caminito, mas não sou aquele tipo de turista eufórico que quer estar em todos os lugares e ser fotografado a cada instante, sou mais saudosista, pois existem momentos, lugares e imagens que estarão para sempre guardados na memória. E planejo meu retorno, um novo olhar, novos lugares.. sempre deixo alguma coisa pra trás, justamente com esse objetivo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;A data escolhida não poderia ter sido melhor. Eu estava muito&amp;nbsp;estressada&amp;nbsp;com trabalho, vida e coração e viajar naquele momento foi excelente pois fugi do marasmo instalado e busquei 'meu eu' novamente. Não estava sendo a Joyce de sempre. Minhas energias estavam fracas. Não culpo ninguém, mas viajar foi o melhor presente que me dei. Voltei renovada e ainda continuo assim. Meu coração está brando e aberto para encarar o que há de vir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Tinha escrito tim tim por tim tim o que fiz em Bs As, mas já está meio defasado transcrever meu dia-a-dia lá, vou apenas pontuar meu olhar e vivências. De cara digo: Podem ir a Buenos Aires, não se arrependerão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;1- Nosso dinheiro tá bem valorizado.. peguei o real por R$ 2,50&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;2- Fato: Compre no aeroporto de Ezeiza na volta. Enorme, tem de tudo e é mais barato que nos outros aeroportos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;3 - Lugar pra ficar. Como minha amiga Juliana Fernandes havia me indicado, fique no Hostel Suites Florida, na famosa Calle Florida 328 cortando a Av. Corrientes. Adoreiiiii o hostel, indico pra quem tem receio de viajar sozinho.&amp;nbsp;Em
albergue ninguém fica só. Muitas pessoas fazem isso, muitos estão como você,
muitos estão de bobeira, a passeio, estudando.. Então a maioria está disposta a
conhecer gente nova e garanto que conheci gente do mundo todo, muitossss brasileirossss e graças a
Deus pessoas boas e prá lá de animadas.&amp;nbsp;Outra
vantagem do Hostel Suites Florida é que de lá você faz uma parte significativa
dos passeios turísticos a pé. Fui a Casa Rosada, Catedral, Café Tortoni, Feira
de San Telmo, Obelisco, Galerias Pacífico, Lojas Falabella e Puerto Madero. Ah n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;o hostel tem um pub&lt;u&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/u&gt;no subsolo. Sempre rola festinhas legais. Outra coisa que não falei. Lá também você faz pacotes para ir a outras baladas, cidades, países e turismo pela cidade. E paguei apenas R$ 210 por 10 dias de estadia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;4 - Outlets
na Av. Córdoba não me tentaram. Achei os preços iguais os daqui e nenhuma
novidade. Acredito que deve ter sido por pegar as promoções já fim de estoque. Mas na Calle Lavalle encontrei uma loja de roupas com preços ótimos e comprei 5 peças a preço de banana (R$ 115), coisa que em Teresina jamais sairia por menos de R$ 800. Sou um pouco chata pra compras, tenho que gostar muito e que de fato vou usar. Mas se vocês pesquisarem bem com certeza encontrarão lojas super bacanas, inclusive marcas argentinas. Um exemplo é a &lt;a href="http://www.rapsodia.com/"&gt;Rapsodia&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;5 - Recoleta
– Passei em frente ao cemitério onde está enterrada Evita Peron, mas estava fechado (passei a noite). Olhado de fora é&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;muito bonito.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;6 -Faculdade de Direito, Hard
Rock e Flor Metálica. Também fui por volta das 19h e o parque onde está a flor já estava fechado, vi mas não tirei foto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Obelisco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;7 - Crobar
– Boliche (balada). Ambiente bom. Música check. Mas não recomendo para quem gosta de paquerar com homem mais
velho (certo que não era o objetivo, mas..). Não gostei por isso. Muito adolescente. Só conto a parte que conhecemos um angolano que
mora em Bs As e fala bem português. Nosso amigo para siempre. Dale Fre!&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Club One – showwwwwwww. Pancadão eletrônico.&amp;nbsp;Severino – check. Bahreid - check e Terrazas del este, minha despedida, lugar espaçoso e onde ganhei uma rouquidão. Gracias a hermana Regina Hernandez por ter nos indicado e colocado nosso nome nas listas da melhores festas da cidade. Da próxima vou explorar os pubs..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;8 - Peguei as eleições primárias. Cristina Kirchner ganhou com 50% dos votos. Confirma seu favoritismo para reeleição a presidência da Argentina. As eleições seguem até outubro.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;9 - San
Telmo. Falam super mal da feira. Mas particularmente gostei. Almoço super chic
no Brassirie Petanque. Batucada de samba. E lá que conheci 'meu' argentino espetacular.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D6UWjchf2AQ/Tm2B5X34qPI/AAAAAAAAB2E/F3Cjkazj8GY/s1600/299238_250524698301139_100000308329845_818004_735296_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D6UWjchf2AQ/Tm2B5X34qPI/AAAAAAAAB2E/F3Cjkazj8GY/s400/299238_250524698301139_100000308329845_818004_735296_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Puerto Madero&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;10 - Puerto
Madero. A noite é ferveção e lindo. Fui pela manhã turistar. Não deixe de ir ao Ásia
de Cuba. Não fui mais uma amiga disse que rola todo tipo de música. Pra quem não gosta de música eletrônica.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;11 - Gente
a maioria das festas é regada a música eletrônica. Eu adorooo.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Não
seja besta de se meter a ir as festas desfilando com saltão. Só pra quem aguenta ou vai andar direto de táxi. Se vai sair caminhando pelas ruas é melhor colocar uma bota ou um coturno. Nessa minha amiga quis
embora por conta do pé e foi meio estressante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Duif0vu8vyQ/Tm1_vF-7I4I/AAAAAAAAB10/b-FAOW2hkP0/s1600/300753_251368654883410_100000308329845_819874_7197034_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Duif0vu8vyQ/Tm1_vF-7I4I/AAAAAAAAB10/b-FAOW2hkP0/s400/300753_251368654883410_100000308329845_819874_7197034_n.jpg" width="262" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Sabor a Tango&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;12 - Uma coisa é certa quando eu voltar em Buenos Aires. Vou assistir novamente a um show de Tango. Amei.. Fui ao Sabor
a Tango, considerado o mais tradicional da cidade. Fiz um pacote que&amp;nbsp;incluía&amp;nbsp;aula, espetáculo, comes e bebes. Paguei R$ 150. Vale muitooooo a pena. Na mesma semana estava acontecendo um Festival de Tango.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KK321dLVGjs/Tm2Am19rDPI/AAAAAAAAB14/U1lg55bGrsE/s1600/296512_252326758120933_100000308329845_822213_3940339_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KK321dLVGjs/Tm2Am19rDPI/AAAAAAAAB14/U1lg55bGrsE/s400/296512_252326758120933_100000308329845_822213_3940339_n.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Zoo Lujan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;13 -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Zoo
Lujan. Recomendo ir cedo, pois é distante de Bs As e só para quem curte bicho. &amp;nbsp;Fui a tarde, estava fazendo muito frio e esperamos muito o busão (mais parece um guanabara) na volta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c9K_nctWvNU/Tm2DxB77JiI/AAAAAAAAB2U/CQFy1ZvhW3Y/s1600/310890_257704690916473_100000308329845_840107_6060180_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c9K_nctWvNU/Tm2DxB77JiI/AAAAAAAAB2U/CQFy1ZvhW3Y/s400/310890_257704690916473_100000308329845_840107_6060180_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Pub do hostel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;14 - Os
argentinos são LINDOS. Parece que Deus escolheu a dedo e jogou esses homens lá. Me curei da miopia. As amigas solteiras iam amar. Gostei do jeito educado, gentil, atencioso e carinhoso de muitos argentinos. Comigo foi assim. Para os rapazes: as argentinas também são bonitas e estilosas.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yyOUvuAcRDQ/Tm6M2IkCWaI/AAAAAAAAB2c/psBsRkfXU7M/s1600/292547_249693371717605_100000308329845_815141_3509872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yyOUvuAcRDQ/Tm6M2IkCWaI/AAAAAAAAB2c/psBsRkfXU7M/s400/292547_249693371717605_100000308329845_815141_3509872_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Brassirie Petanque&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;15 - Comida. Um ponto negativo de Bs As. Comida. Apesar de adorar carne, não tem jeito a comida de casa é imbatível. O bife vem todo tostado por cima, mas dentro o 'boi' ainda tá vivo, tem sempre que pedir bem passado, mesmo assim ainda falta um pitada de sal, um tempero. Soube que por lei é proibido colocar sal na comida no preparo. Feijão e arroz são artigos de luxo por lá. Sofri um pouco e perdi uns quilinhos. Outra coisa: Água também é artigo de luxo. Bebam muita água. Comprem suas garrafinhas. E estejam com elas sempre. Não senti muita vontade de beber e quando sentia não tinha.. Também tomei muito refrigerante, não é saudável isso. Ah, não comi o tal falado alfajor. Não sou fã de doce de leite. E como estava muitoooo frio não tomei sorvete no Freddo. Mas chocolate quente com churros no Café Tortoni é uma delíciaaaaaaa..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;17 - Segurança. Graças a Deus não tive problemas com isso, mas duas amigas foram roubadas dentro do metro. O rapaz roubou uma chapinha e uma bolsa de make que estava dentro da mochila delas. Também soube que em La Boca tá um pouco perigoso, que não é bom ir sozinho ou andar só. Mas é aquela coisa. Todo cuidado é pouco. E parece que temos uma placa na testa dizendo 'brasileiro' ou coisa do gênero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G8qeJTfJf8I/Tm6L9r2a6MI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/jsqojKk-KfY/s1600/PQAAAIsFatiT-C90t7pVUjN1GUkzxRmmec6PO_lcof4XuhgHV014zaTKius3XOxOoDt34CvWRf-BBo9NKCsaVEbOc1MAm1T1UCZvysLjgPYYq5c6sEibJCAUYzie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G8qeJTfJf8I/Tm6L9r2a6MI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/jsqojKk-KfY/s400/PQAAAIsFatiT-C90t7pVUjN1GUkzxRmmec6PO_lcof4XuhgHV014zaTKius3XOxOoDt34CvWRf-BBo9NKCsaVEbOc1MAm1T1UCZvysLjgPYYq5c6sEibJCAUYzie.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Hermanitas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;16 - Deixei
de fazer alguns passeios. Mas indico quem for, pagar pelo ônibus que percorre
toda a cidade parando nos principais pontos turísticos (fica algumas quadras da Florida). Aliás, dá pra fazer os pontos turísticos mais falados Bs As em algumas horas.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;É isso.. se eu lembrar conto mais.. besos!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&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/7880472432294913688-2737152650246559133?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2737152650246559133/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2737152650246559133&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2737152650246559133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2737152650246559133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/09/buenos-aires-11-21-de-agosto.html' title='Buenos Aires 11 a 21 de agosto'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vCBYg0YoZEw/Tm2BBDjUkwI/AAAAAAAAB18/gx4M_EUoo6E/s72-c/228972_249696038384005_100000308329845_815147_1393990_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-895091560256454938</id><published>2011-08-03T22:42:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T22:42:18.090-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0I3husyT9yg/Tjn4rmYGHNI/AAAAAAAAB1s/xe_bMMlAvgo/s1600/190123_10150454776650188_535535187_18030494_4391659_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="207" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0I3husyT9yg/Tjn4rmYGHNI/AAAAAAAAB1s/xe_bMMlAvgo/s320/190123_10150454776650188_535535187_18030494_4391659_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-895091560256454938?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/895091560256454938/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=895091560256454938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/895091560256454938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/895091560256454938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0I3husyT9yg/Tjn4rmYGHNI/AAAAAAAAB1s/xe_bMMlAvgo/s72-c/190123_10150454776650188_535535187_18030494_4391659_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7617537596199652051</id><published>2011-07-11T16:23:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T16:25:16.167-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tá meu bem?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8c-RcL4cxcM/ThtLR18XN_I/AAAAAAAAB1o/7oOx1rkk_MY/s1600/CIMG1869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="195" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8c-RcL4cxcM/ThtLR18XN_I/AAAAAAAAB1o/7oOx1rkk_MY/s400/CIMG1869.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-7617537596199652051?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7617537596199652051/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7617537596199652051&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7617537596199652051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7617537596199652051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/07/ta-meu-bem.html' title='Tá meu bem?'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8c-RcL4cxcM/ThtLR18XN_I/AAAAAAAAB1o/7oOx1rkk_MY/s72-c/CIMG1869.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5596706999890907071</id><published>2011-07-10T13:02:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T13:21:23.362-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-5596706999890907071?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5596706999890907071/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5596706999890907071&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5596706999890907071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5596706999890907071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4zYdMlNKMw/ThnJAYLJVYI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/WZlgd9Dz6y0/s72-c/CIMG1867.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6299250150859633084</id><published>2011-07-07T22:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T22:17:21.567-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Gabito Nunes</title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}"&gt;
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&lt;/m:defjc&gt;&lt;/m:rmargin&gt;&lt;/m:lmargin&gt;&lt;/m:dispdef&gt;&lt;/m:smallfrac&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37R9Y9ljvh4/ThZaQaM9e5I/AAAAAAAAB1Q/7X3v0mkcxSY/s1600/platonico.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="255" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37R9Y9ljvh4/ThZaQaM9e5I/AAAAAAAAB1Q/7X3v0mkcxSY/s320/platonico.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;"Acanhada e medrosa,
esquiva o olhar e as intenções. Faz tudo pra me ganhar, fazendo tudo pra me
perder. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="messagebody" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt;"&gt;Quantas chances de
viver loucuras memoráveis a gente desperdiça com essa mania besta de pensar? Meus
olhos fazem todas as promessas, a boca confirma alguns, e o corpo todo
estremece de uma vontade louca de cumprir tim-tim por tim-tim. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;Desejo avidamente meu último romance, logo contigo, com tantos outros ainda pela frente". &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/7880472432294913688-6299250150859633084?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6299250150859633084/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6299250150859633084&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6299250150859633084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6299250150859633084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/07/gabito-nunes.html' title='Gabito Nunes'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37R9Y9ljvh4/ThZaQaM9e5I/AAAAAAAAB1Q/7X3v0mkcxSY/s72-c/platonico.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-127935105876537222</id><published>2011-05-06T13:59:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T13:59:31.905-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-tBdqPa0Zk/TcQoqY_cz3I/AAAAAAAAB1M/42MXyoVENRw/s1600/tumblr_lh9jwoO5AH1qgenuwo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-tBdqPa0Zk/TcQoqY_cz3I/AAAAAAAAB1M/42MXyoVENRw/s320/tumblr_lh9jwoO5AH1qgenuwo1_500.jpg" width="289" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;Fonte: &lt;a href="http://marcorigobelli.tumblr.com/"&gt;Marco Rigobelli&lt;/a&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/7880472432294913688-127935105876537222?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/127935105876537222/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=127935105876537222&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/127935105876537222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/127935105876537222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/05/fonte-marco-rigobelli.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-tBdqPa0Zk/TcQoqY_cz3I/AAAAAAAAB1M/42MXyoVENRw/s72-c/tumblr_lh9jwoO5AH1qgenuwo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7857060258008854179</id><published>2011-04-14T19:08:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T19:08:25.741-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xQulGU1a5BU/TadvGhLNJpI/AAAAAAAAB0k/-mM8Pp9XhJ8/s1600/tumblr_lhwlb1UGkS1qbmk8yo1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xQulGU1a5BU/TadvGhLNJpI/AAAAAAAAB0k/-mM8Pp9XhJ8/s320/tumblr_lhwlb1UGkS1qbmk8yo1_500.png" width="286" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
( &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://marcorigobelli.tumblr.com/"&gt;em Marco Rigobelli&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-7857060258008854179?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7857060258008854179/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7857060258008854179&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7857060258008854179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7857060258008854179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/04/em-marco-rigobelli.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xQulGU1a5BU/TadvGhLNJpI/AAAAAAAAB0k/-mM8Pp9XhJ8/s72-c/tumblr_lhwlb1UGkS1qbmk8yo1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2415685243812710923</id><published>2011-04-03T17:26:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T21:48:37.274-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Rascunhos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A2uEtNNrHLA/TZjYKKI5dtI/AAAAAAAAB0g/cJDQ_1Bw2YI/s1600/mentira_dedo_cruzado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="215" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A2uEtNNrHLA/TZjYKKI5dtI/AAAAAAAAB0g/cJDQ_1Bw2YI/s320/mentira_dedo_cruzado.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Posso estar enganada. Aliás, vivemos nos enganando ou acreditando em algo muitas vezes inexistente. Passamos boa parte da vida, boa parte do nosso tempo nos fazendo valer e nos relacionando com pessoas que conseguem ocultar uma face obscura, indiferente e maleável. Certo, somos estranhos em comum. Ninguém precisa o tempo todo escancarar seus sentimentos, pois isso sim, seria algo surpreendente. Se tem um comportamento que não costumo engolir bem é a mentira. Todos nós mentimos ou/e omitimos. Entre essas duas palavras tem algo chamado bom senso. Uma mentira pode salvar um dia, ocultar uma dor, conter lágrimas.. Mas quando ela se torna parte da sua vida é algo&amp;nbsp;intransponível. Não quero levantar nenhuma bandeira. Não quero abrir&amp;nbsp;discussões. Fazer a terapeuta. A dona da verdade. Não! Quero entender o que faz uma pessoa mentir pra outra. Não só mentir, mas levar a mentira adiante. Pra mim mentira é como matar. Quanto mais o faz, mais se tem vontade. Cresce sem limites e sem controle. E no final algo dentro de você morre junto a ela.&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/7880472432294913688-2415685243812710923?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2415685243812710923/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2415685243812710923&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2415685243812710923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2415685243812710923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/04/posso-estar-enganada.html' title='Rascunhos'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A2uEtNNrHLA/TZjYKKI5dtI/AAAAAAAAB0g/cJDQ_1Bw2YI/s72-c/mentira_dedo_cruzado.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-929645135459163916</id><published>2011-03-31T23:42:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T23:50:14.118-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&apos;Diálogo que nunca tive&apos;'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-feKrv7f7yHA/TZU51X7SHRI/AAAAAAAAB0c/2_p9NqnI3wo/s1600/2263900797_8604916520_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="220" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-feKrv7f7yHA/TZU51X7SHRI/AAAAAAAAB0c/2_p9NqnI3wo/s320/2263900797_8604916520_o.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Questão de gosto não se pode discutir"&lt;/i&gt;, lembra? Onde está esse tempero diferente? Ou foi só pra provar para seu ego que podia me ter? Não &amp;nbsp;precisava correr o risco. Me fazer rir. Beijar minha testa e dizer que era o cara da vez. Fiquei com você por ter me instigado. Por ter ido em frente quando o que eu mais queria era ter mandado você pro inferno. Mas não. Quando me interessei, você partiu.&amp;nbsp;&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/7880472432294913688-929645135459163916?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/929645135459163916/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=929645135459163916&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/929645135459163916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/929645135459163916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/03/questao-de-gosto-nao-se-pode-discutir.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-feKrv7f7yHA/TZU51X7SHRI/AAAAAAAAB0c/2_p9NqnI3wo/s72-c/2263900797_8604916520_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3350566096503422784</id><published>2011-03-28T15:07:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T21:25:02.813-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Fonte:&lt;a href="http://marcorigobelli.tumblr.com/"&gt; Marco Rigobelli&lt;/a&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/7880472432294913688-3350566096503422784?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3350566096503422784/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3350566096503422784&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3350566096503422784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3350566096503422784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/03/fonte-marco-rigobelli.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e8xIthFB7Q8/TZEmoP3EUAI/AAAAAAAAB0Y/7-5vYcZQqcU/s72-c/tumblr_lh506xuGU21qehy1jo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-238692626072316874</id><published>2011-03-24T00:01:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T17:03:18.867-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--bR9B8bpXT8/TZDpUt9WGXI/AAAAAAAAB0M/opefjtDJ3-o/s1600/separados2ss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="258" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--bR9B8bpXT8/TZDpUt9WGXI/AAAAAAAAB0M/opefjtDJ3-o/s320/separados2ss.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Por que você simplesmente não liga e diz que me quer? Por que ficar nessa? Por que temer? Por que a dúvida? Em algum momento deixei você duvidar que te quero? Vai, faz um esforço. Prometo que apago todos os momentos que não tivemos juntos.&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/7880472432294913688-238692626072316874?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/238692626072316874/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=238692626072316874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/238692626072316874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/238692626072316874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/03/por-que-voce-simplesmente-nao-liga-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--bR9B8bpXT8/TZDpUt9WGXI/AAAAAAAAB0M/opefjtDJ3-o/s72-c/separados2ss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-9175212713350465771</id><published>2011-03-20T23:41:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T23:48:28.492-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Tenho pressa pra amar. Mas não de te conhecer, meu amor. Não quero que seja meteórico. Qual o segredo para namorar? Vejo que algumas pessoas tem facilidade. Um dia estão solteiras. Semana depois está lá, estampado em suas redes sociais. NAMORANDO. Nunca me interessei por ninguém ao ponto de ocupar o status. E se ele for assim, como um fast food, jamais permitirei. Quando você me encontrar, venha puro e sem amarguras. Nós vamos amar finalmente. Seja meu companheiro, me queira bem. Se permita, para que sejamos nós, sós, do universo. Imagino você à moda antiga. Sua pele exalando virilidade, porém &amp;nbsp;doce. Sereno quando se olha, mas voraz por dentro. Vai me observar. Vai lançar olhares em minha direção. Não sabe como vir, mas vem. Prazer, meu nome é &lt;i&gt;Amor&lt;/i&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/7880472432294913688-9175212713350465771?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/9175212713350465771/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=9175212713350465771&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/9175212713350465771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/9175212713350465771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/03/tenho-pressa-pra-amar.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jzNS69sBlgc/TYa6mm3ZZhI/AAAAAAAAB0E/e6XObr6n8GM/s72-c/735b467176d4d54e968a89d9521f1ac0480d15fa.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3217127247829280454</id><published>2011-03-06T13:59:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T14:02:12.030-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sanatório Geral - Onde os loucos tem vez!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-3217127247829280454?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3217127247829280454/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3217127247829280454&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3217127247829280454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3217127247829280454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/03/sanatorio-geral-onde-os-loucos-tem-vez.html' title='Sanatório Geral - Onde os loucos tem vez!'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Q7sw4_3DSBE/TXO9T0NrrzI/AAAAAAAABzs/jG9R_e_3TP0/s72-c/OgAAAF-yrJg8nigsS2_FiqJwdpKTG8DC5NPgF-NMyZjywZtnr_Lt1TWC5oer3f32gyu3dYXgxBWxnx0dQLObH-j4loEAm1T1UBpVsbigoF7tx-DQ00Y3eujfDWVZ.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2640571640481226034</id><published>2011-02-26T21:40:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T21:40:24.454-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Alguma coisa acontece no meu coração...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tBylbpmpsJ8/TWmcKSBLsSI/AAAAAAAABzo/ZfRgkdx_EFc/s1600/180559_188174957869447_100000308329845_520817_7915537_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tBylbpmpsJ8/TWmcKSBLsSI/AAAAAAAABzo/ZfRgkdx_EFc/s320/180559_188174957869447_100000308329845_520817_7915537_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;São Paulo, te odeio. Odeio ter que arrumar as malas e ter que ir embora amanhã. Odeio esse sentimento de impossibilidades, de saudades, de falta que você vai deixar. Mas vou ter que esperar. Volto pra Teresina e retorno pra cá em breve, pode esperar. Não vou mais aguentar levar a mesma vida que tenho lá. Quando penso na falta de perspectivas, pouca grana, nenhum amor, &amp;nbsp;fico triste e estou sim triste em ter de voltar. Aqui é um mundão a parte com todos os defeitos de uma metrópole. Aqui não para e gosto disso. Amo o Piauí, amo Teresina, mas me dei conta que SP é meu lugar. Não sei se pela vida toda, mas por algum tempo acredito que sim. Me despeço com o coração na mão.&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/7880472432294913688-2640571640481226034?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2640571640481226034/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2640571640481226034&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2640571640481226034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2640571640481226034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/02/alguma-coisa-acontece-no-meu-coracao.html' title='Alguma coisa acontece no meu coração...'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tBylbpmpsJ8/TWmcKSBLsSI/AAAAAAAABzo/ZfRgkdx_EFc/s72-c/180559_188174957869447_100000308329845_520817_7915537_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7018976179718935704</id><published>2011-02-07T16:05:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T16:09:46.650-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Canalha</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TVBAc63dy8I/AAAAAAAABzg/oPEHgTlvWAA/s1600/filhos_silencio_04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TVBAc63dy8I/AAAAAAAABzg/oPEHgTlvWAA/s1600/filhos_silencio_04.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;Na hora do prazer ele sequer lembrou do amor. Foi só tesão. &lt;i&gt;Ai, vou gozar&lt;/i&gt;, ele sussurrou. Depois parado na cozinha, lançou aquele olhar querendo me dizer algo e não hesitou. N&lt;i&gt;ão é você quem eu quero&lt;/i&gt;. Permaneci calada. Ele continou.. &lt;i&gt;Estou com você, gosto de você, mas meu pensamento está em outro lugar, outra mulher. É que me bateu uma saudade do que vivi&lt;/i&gt;. Naquele momento se eu tivesse o poder de me teletransportar já teria seguido viagem. Mas não fiz. Certos acontecimentos são inevitáveis. Não sei o que aconteceu comigo. Nem senti. Por um momento quis chorar. Mas me contive. No fundo quem não presta sou eu.&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/7880472432294913688-7018976179718935704?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7018976179718935704/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7018976179718935704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7018976179718935704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7018976179718935704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/02/mentiras-que-gente-conta.html' title='Canalha'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TVBAc63dy8I/AAAAAAAABzg/oPEHgTlvWAA/s72-c/filhos_silencio_04.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5190616373121786427</id><published>2011-02-05T23:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T23:01:30.031-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sou assim como São Paulo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Ora tranquila&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3-PXEQz9I/AAAAAAAABzM/jGkDUsc0w3o/s1600/Joyce-+Sampa+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3-PXEQz9I/AAAAAAAABzM/jGkDUsc0w3o/s320/Joyce-+Sampa+030.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Ora chora&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3_1qwWnJI/AAAAAAAABzY/ye3Kxow_boE/s1600/Joyce-+Sampa+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3_1qwWnJI/AAAAAAAABzY/ye3Kxow_boE/s320/Joyce-+Sampa+004.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Ora Passeia&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3-RgP2enI/AAAAAAAABzQ/i2asZjdoYgs/s1600/Joyce-+Sampa+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3-RgP2enI/AAAAAAAABzQ/i2asZjdoYgs/s320/Joyce-+Sampa+036.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Ora esquenta&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU4AZrCH-WI/AAAAAAAABzc/iAbKXQmv-IY/s1600/Joyce-+Sampa+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU4AZrCH-WI/AAAAAAAABzc/iAbKXQmv-IY/s320/Joyce-+Sampa+018.jpg" width="212" /&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/7880472432294913688-5190616373121786427?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5190616373121786427/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5190616373121786427&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5190616373121786427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5190616373121786427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/02/sao-paulo.html' title='Sou assim como São Paulo'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TU3-PXEQz9I/AAAAAAAABzM/jGkDUsc0w3o/s72-c/Joyce-+Sampa+030.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2510287311102465910</id><published>2011-01-31T02:01:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T02:12:34.960-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diálogo que nunca aconteceu.'/><title type='text'>Diálogo - Parte 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TUY-gRTEyvI/AAAAAAAAByw/dgmKYbuDImQ/s1600/homem_x_mulher_4501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TUY-gRTEyvI/AAAAAAAAByw/dgmKYbuDImQ/s1600/homem_x_mulher_4501.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Ele me perguntou se o que recebi dele não era o suficiente. Respondi que não. O problema em ficar com você é porque sempre vou querer mais e sempre vou querer algo novo de sua parte. Mas nunca será suficiente. Ficar com você só reacende um sentimento que não sei explicar. Me diz, porque você é tão resistente? Não consigo conversar com você. Não consigo ser precisa. É que só de pensar em você, só de vê-lo, me dá arrepios. Você me atrai. Você me excita. O problema em ficar com você é que sempre vou querer um sentimento novo. Não sei o que quero. Quando tenho amor, quero sexo. Quando tenho sexo, quero amor. Mas nem é isso. A verdade que dosados, esses sentimentos causariam a perfeição, e não é o que busco. Gosto é da árdua tarefa de me satisfazer com o que é me colocado. Não sei nem mentir. A verdade é que só queria ser bem mais apreciada. Será que você não enxerga?. Faz um favor. Dedica um tempo pra mim. Sai da frente do computador. Vem me ver, vem me ter.&amp;nbsp;Não deixa o tempo passar. Assim te esqueço de vez. Ele apenas silenciou.&amp;nbsp;&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/7880472432294913688-2510287311102465910?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2510287311102465910/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2510287311102465910&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2510287311102465910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2510287311102465910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/01/dialogo.html' title='Diálogo - Parte 1'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TUY-gRTEyvI/AAAAAAAAByw/dgmKYbuDImQ/s72-c/homem_x_mulher_4501.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4252190474500541522</id><published>2011-01-28T21:21:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T21:38:44.976-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TUNgIidvrZI/AAAAAAAAByo/hvBOJH-TSyA/s1600/algemas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TUNgIidvrZI/AAAAAAAAByo/hvBOJH-TSyA/s320/algemas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567399264166849938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Toda vez que penso em você,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Tenho vontade de tirar tua roupa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Teu sexo vicia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Da próxima vez que nos encontrarmos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Tu me algema nas tuas entranhas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/7880472432294913688-4252190474500541522?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4252190474500541522/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4252190474500541522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4252190474500541522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4252190474500541522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/01/toda-vez-que-penso-em-voce-tenho.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TUNgIidvrZI/AAAAAAAAByo/hvBOJH-TSyA/s72-c/algemas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8545709913002165803</id><published>2011-01-16T19:22:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T19:35:36.623-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Te amo Ceará</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TTNyA8ohMqI/AAAAAAAAByg/zgHS9OxraDE/s1600/168777_180609035292706_100000308329845_470788_5303461_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TTNyA8ohMqI/AAAAAAAAByg/zgHS9OxraDE/s320/168777_180609035292706_100000308329845_470788_5303461_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562915325334336162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 14px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;De Brejo Santo a Pacajus. O que me faz gostar de Fortaleza são as pessoas que conheço casualmente. Um taxista bem humorado, que coloca aquele dvd do a-ha, um turista solitário e animado que nos faz sorrir, um recepcionista de hotel atencioso.. Pequenos gestos que conquistam, alegram e fazem uma viagem valer a pena.&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/7880472432294913688-8545709913002165803?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8545709913002165803/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8545709913002165803&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8545709913002165803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8545709913002165803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/01/te-amo-ceara.html' title='Te amo Ceará'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TTNyA8ohMqI/AAAAAAAAByg/zgHS9OxraDE/s72-c/168777_180609035292706_100000308329845_470788_5303461_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5305525901388380466</id><published>2011-01-01T22:31:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T22:58:44.091-03:00</updated><title type='text'>2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TR_ZxtLdOXI/AAAAAAAAByQ/eOstwwntlxA/s1600/OgAAAIng5tNKEg8ZQo1wRMFdnS4bubuaAHOQMCWbAGyWerI0Pl-r9ZxPpsgihRRtopmC2GqA5PMD4vun2mIVF4XRYWMAm1T1UEicQg5gM0SNEe2KJY-WzqlRjpib.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TR_ZxtLdOXI/AAAAAAAAByQ/eOstwwntlxA/s320/OgAAAIng5tNKEg8ZQo1wRMFdnS4bubuaAHOQMCWbAGyWerI0Pl-r9ZxPpsgihRRtopmC2GqA5PMD4vun2mIVF4XRYWMAm1T1UEicQg5gM0SNEe2KJY-WzqlRjpib.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557399913162946930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Fui a Luis Correia por conta e sem nenhuma intensão. Imaginei que seria mais um reveillon com praia lotada, tráfego irritante, falta de água e energia. Embora não tenha passado por tal situação. Mas me surpreendi. Nada citado aconteceu, aliás, foi uma virada digna de 2011.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Não é novidade que amo praia. Amo vento. Amo ficar bronzeada. Amo a vibe que a natureza nos proporciona. Pela primeira vez em 3 anos respirei e senti que realmente estou livre de tudo que aconteceu. O que passou passou. Só pedi a Deus que respondesse algumas questões e afastasse quem não merece estar perto de mim. Pedido feito. Pedido resolvido. Saravá!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Esses 4 dias em LC foram tão legais que deu vontade de estar lá agora. Brincando com a criançada. Tomando caldo do mar. Ficar com os olhos irritados com tanto sal. Perguntar, amiga minha lente ainda tá aqui?. Jogar frescobol. Tirar foto..  Governador, posso voltar pra praia?&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/7880472432294913688-5305525901388380466?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5305525901388380466/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5305525901388380466&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5305525901388380466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5305525901388380466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html' title='2011'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TR_ZxtLdOXI/AAAAAAAAByQ/eOstwwntlxA/s72-c/OgAAAIng5tNKEg8ZQo1wRMFdnS4bubuaAHOQMCWbAGyWerI0Pl-r9ZxPpsgihRRtopmC2GqA5PMD4vun2mIVF4XRYWMAm1T1UEicQg5gM0SNEe2KJY-WzqlRjpib.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5745540312593518195</id><published>2010-12-01T22:33:00.011-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T23:42:23.007-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Despedidas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Tenho pensando nos meus amores. Um flashback das principais cenas. Engraçado é quando estou ligada, não penso nas impossibilidades, muito embora não os ame. E o mais legal é quando lá na frente, simplesmente não sinto mais nada por eles. Falo do apego. Continuo a prosear na boa, mas não tenho vontade de estar junto. Claro que pra chegar a tal ponto busco entender os porquês. Coisinha chata. A verdade é que por um momento quero mandá-los lá pra casa do *&amp;amp;%&amp;amp;%$. Passa e sigo... Em tempos de privação seria ideal ficar com cada um só para senti-los pela última vez. Mas não os quero. Eles sempre voltam. Passaria horas redigindo cada capítulo. Pra mim duro não é ter de ficar. Duro é deixá-los para trás. Não na vida. Mas aqui de dentro do peito. Não acender mais a chama. Não dar esperança. Simplesmente ser clara. 'Queridos, não dá mais'. Detesto despedidas.&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/7880472432294913688-5745540312593518195?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5745540312593518195/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5745540312593518195&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5745540312593518195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5745540312593518195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/12/despedida.html' title='Despedidas'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6378923262138885862</id><published>2010-11-21T19:39:00.013-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T21:55:55.274-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Esses últimos meses</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;Passei esse tempo sem escrever, pois não queria estar sempre falando das mesmas coisas ou como já disseram "sendo existencialista". Abrir o jogo apenas quando estivesse consciente e tranqüila em relação aos meus sentimentos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Em junho decidi por fim em uma paixão avassaladora mesmo gostando muito dele. O que me fez terminar não foi o medo de ir em frente, embora tivesse as intempéries, mas já não estava feliz. Como descrevi em alguns textos anteriores, senti muita falta do que ele me proporcionava. Pouco tempo depois me vi lançada em outra história, outra pessoa, outra situação. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Questionei-me, me perguntei se realmente devia investir. Porque não né?. Óbvio que me senti culpada por em tão pouco tempo já está envolvida com outra pessoa. Nosso problema mora justamente nessa busca desenfreada por felicidade. Ai você sai atropelando as etapas. Eu simplesmente me joguei. Só que não sou explícita. Sempre fui ruim em demonstrar interesse, o que faz muitos pensarem que não estou afim, que sou indiferente ou fria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Mas o problema não sou eu. Não somos nós. Percebi isso quando ele pediu um tempo. Corra de crises pré encontro. Corra das exigências. Corra do imediatismo. E o principal. Corra de quem não gosta de você do jeito que é. De vez em quando leio ou escuto a máxima e sempre acreditei nela, mas só me dei conta quando coloquei a cabeça no lugar. As mudanças advêm com o tempo. Outra coisa. Atenção não é dependência. Por isso que não acredito nesse tempo. Por que o tempo mascara, aflora ou simplesmente passa para um mau relacionamento. Infelizmente não era para nós. Foi duro aceitar, mas é fato.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Sobre a Casa de Aruanda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Nesse intervalo eu decidi tomar outro rumo na minha vida. Senti que devia antes de seguir, pedir desculpas e me afastar de algumas pessoas que nada contribuíam. Parece extremista, mas de fato tive bons resultados. Tenho formação católica, mas sempre acreditei em forças externas, energia, mensagens etc. Ir à Casa de Aruanda foi a melhor decisão que tomei em 2010. Há quase três meses estou freqüentando a toca. Buscando renovar, propagar, alimentar minha fé, amor, equilíbrio, paz. Não é fácil aceitar, perdoar ou abstrair certos sentimentos, mas temos que respirar forte e tentar entender que a vida é justamente essa renovação, que as pessoas não estão só para o bem, mas agem pelo mal e que a partir desse mal, não tentemos retribuir, mas lançar fora e abençoar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Tento não falar da minha opção, pois ela causa certa ojeriza, certo pré conceito estabelecido. Por pura ignorância e pela imagem já marginalizada. A Casa de Aruanda - Toca do Pajé é uma casa espírita umbandista. Que mescla as religiões, que espalha o amor, a fé, o espiritual, a paz, equilíbrio individual e coletivo. Umbanda não é macumba. Não existem trabalhos que nos satisfaça como matéria, a casa serve como guia espiritual. Cada um de nós tem um dever, e lá obtive as respostas e pude refletir a quem estivesse em sintonia comigo. Não é fácil lidar com o curso dos acontecimentos, mas é só um ciclo que está se fechando para que outro recomece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;Ouvir dizer, ouvir falar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;As pessoas usam as redes sociais para propagar ou travar uma guerra íntima. O poder de uma palavra pode ferir, mas quem se importa para o que o outro está sentindo? As pessoas costumam insinuar que o lhe és tirado é obra de Deus, mas ele não pune, não tira, não castiga. Somos nós que tomamos as decisões. Ninguém é melhor ou pior que você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-size:12pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;
&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span trebuchet="" times="" new=""   style="font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;É como disse acima. As pessoas sentem tanta fome de amor, querem tanto ter 'um estado', que atropelam o sentimento alheio. Pouco importa o que elas sentem. O que interessa para eles(as) é o que querem ou se serão(são) felizes. É complicado lidar com o egoísmo do próximo. Não sou favorável às pessoas que mudem de atitude, opinião, sentimento do dia para noite. Isso demonstra que elas não são confiáveis. Mesmo assim eu desejo toda paz e que elas possam um dia perceber tamanha tolice. Eu as espero mais a frente e perdoou as lágrimas, angústia, raiva, decepção que senti. No final tudo dá certo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;2011&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;Esse ano passei por provações e decepções, mas aprendi quem sou, o que quero e o que espero da vida, das pessoas, da minha família e de amigos(as). Muito axé para todos nós. Saravá! 2011 será diferente.&lt;/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/7880472432294913688-6378923262138885862?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6378923262138885862/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6378923262138885862&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6378923262138885862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6378923262138885862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/11/esses-ultimos-meses.html' title='Esses últimos meses'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4628799036670581784</id><published>2010-11-15T00:22:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T00:46:44.109-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TOCs4JxjNJI/AAAAAAAABxc/72Iexv_O1fc/s1600/val%25C3%25A9ria1pb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TOCs4JxjNJI/AAAAAAAABxc/72Iexv_O1fc/s320/val%25C3%25A9ria1pb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539617622362109074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Valéria &amp;amp; Diego&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TOCo6ikAFFI/AAAAAAAABxU/y1Ip5jkATqk/s1600/Val%25C3%25A9ria%2Be%2BDiego%2Bpb1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TOCo6ikAFFI/AAAAAAAABxU/y1Ip5jkATqk/s320/Val%25C3%25A9ria%2Be%2BDiego%2Bpb1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539613265329394770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-4628799036670581784?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4628799036670581784/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4628799036670581784&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4628799036670581784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4628799036670581784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/11/diego-valeria.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TOCs4JxjNJI/AAAAAAAABxc/72Iexv_O1fc/s72-c/val%25C3%25A9ria1pb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1880475114590468508</id><published>2010-10-21T22:33:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T12:26:22.398-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Nem sei por onde começar. Há mais de um mês que não apareço por aqui. Volta e meia visito essa página, penso que registrar algo, mas me falta interesse. Deixei o tempo agir e evitei se repetitiva aqui. Uma hora cansamos. Podia sim ter deixado alguns registros, mas tudo ia mudando que nem dava pra descrever. Estava deixando o ano passar para concretizar meus pensamentos sobre 2010. Um ano sofrido, mas de muito aprendizado. Muito em breve estarei falando a respeito, mas hoje não é o momento. Hoje estou me sentindo bem. Leve e feliz. Vou ficar por aqui, además trago novidades.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/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/7880472432294913688-1880475114590468508?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1880475114590468508/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1880475114590468508&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1880475114590468508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1880475114590468508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/10/nem-sei-por-onde-comecar.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4351781424898709682</id><published>2010-09-17T11:08:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T11:10:42.894-03:00</updated><title type='text'></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/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TJN2fIhVMRI/AAAAAAAABxM/vnCfsRcz_Mk/s1600/baxo-hoje.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 103px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TJN2fIhVMRI/AAAAAAAABxM/vnCfsRcz_Mk/s320/baxo-hoje.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517884245694296338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;por Cesar Marchesini
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;(direto do blog do Solda)&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://cartunistasolda.blogspot.com/2010/09/cesar-marchesini_16.html"&gt;&lt;/a&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/7880472432294913688-4351781424898709682?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4351781424898709682/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4351781424898709682&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4351781424898709682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4351781424898709682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/09/por-cesar-marchesini-direto-do-blog-do.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TJN2fIhVMRI/AAAAAAAABxM/vnCfsRcz_Mk/s72-c/baxo-hoje.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7492507354971390322</id><published>2010-09-11T20:24:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T20:27:36.434-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TIwQG5akH9I/AAAAAAAABxE/-tv0Gxk8Xtc/s1600/DSC_0409.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TIwQG5akH9I/AAAAAAAABxE/-tv0Gxk8Xtc/s320/DSC_0409.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515801354299514834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Joy em Barra Grande/PI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-7492507354971390322?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7492507354971390322/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7492507354971390322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7492507354971390322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7492507354971390322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/09/joy-em-barra-grandepi.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TIwQG5akH9I/AAAAAAAABxE/-tv0Gxk8Xtc/s72-c/DSC_0409.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8969349365100635740</id><published>2010-08-29T22:46:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T22:50:51.287-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;Um amor breve é quando você admite que sim, ama aquele ser desconhecido, apenas pelo o que ele representa para você, sem cobranças, sem doenças, sem neuras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;É não ter ciúme, é não desejar mal, é não ser um ex-namorado. É andar de mãos dadas, é inventar brincadeiras. É “apenas” mais uma página na sua história, é quando você se dá conta de que viveu algo especial, mas que não rende um capítulo inteiro da sua vida. Em uma comparação rota, paixões são capítulos de um livro, o amor [aquele clássico e já conhecido grande volume]. Amores breves são contos de um livro sobre o amar.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;E é muito fácil entender isso depois que você é iluminado, porque aí você entende que é só viver. Viver e deixar viver, como diz a canção. Que o amor livre dos anos 60 e 70 chegou para nós com cara de orgia, mas que pode sim ser elevado à categoria feliz de amor, breve amor.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;One night stand, não sabe o nome da menino, esqueceu como o conheceu? Tudo bem se você lembra como ele chegou no seu peito pra dormir, ou como bebia água deixando escorrer uma gota no canto da boca. Encontro inesperado, pergunta direta e fim de noite forçadamente antecipado? Não há problema se no dia seguinte vocês dançaram sozinhos na chuva, tomando cerveja ou se ela, depois de tantas diferentes danças, dormiu pesado, provocando carinhos e apelidos inesperados.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;As histórias são muitas… São quantas cabem na memória.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;E não, não é sempre que isso acontece, e você não sabe quando vai acontecer. Umas seguem o curso natural do esquecimento e passam sem deixar marca. Algumas crescem e viram outras coisas, imprevisíveis.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;Outras, quando você se dá conta, estão lá desde sempre. São indeléveis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top:0cm;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:16.2pt;margin-left: 0cm;text-align:justify;line-height:12.75pt"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://aidoutorquedor.wordpress.com/page/8/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Texto de Pedro Jansen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-8969349365100635740?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8969349365100635740/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8969349365100635740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8969349365100635740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8969349365100635740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/um-amor-breve-e-quando-voce-admite-que_29.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5128574869582791765</id><published>2010-08-27T21:05:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T00:33:21.044-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;não tenho saudades de você. mas tenho saudade de você quando; acordava às 7h com uma mensagem tua. quando você me ligava às 8h para dar aquele &lt;i&gt;bom dia amor&lt;/i&gt;. que voz!. das nossas conversas banais, mas tão cheias de carinho, amizade, tesão. das nossas tardes quentes. lembra? quando quase fomos flagrados?. tenho saudade da despedida. de quando você ligava reclamando. da tua preocupação. da tua alegria. da tua vitalidade. de quando você falava, &lt;i&gt;tu não tá nem ai pra mim&lt;/i&gt;. dos finais de semana, pois nunca estava sozinha. e agora?. tudo continuou como tinha de ser. sinto falta do teu amor. ninguém mais quer perder tempo. não tenho saudades de você. mas tenho saudade de você quando...&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/7880472432294913688-5128574869582791765?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5128574869582791765/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5128574869582791765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5128574869582791765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5128574869582791765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/nao-tenho-saudades-de-voce.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3703837897985639405</id><published>2010-08-17T13:40:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T13:36:05.156-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ele disse que estava se sentindo um lixo'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Pensava que minha solidão fosse questão de companhia. Quando ele apareceu pensei que finalmente essa solidão fosse sair de mim. Mas não. Me vi entristecida. E era sem razão. Como pude ficar assim? Se ele estava ali pra quando eu precisasse.. Compreendi depois que a solidão está entranhada, por mais que o amor esteja presente diariamente. É algo intrínseco, pessoal e intransferível. Entendi que não sou só eu que me sinto assim, as vezes. Ontem um amigo disse que estava se sentindo um lixo. Que sabia que ia passar. Mas que não entendia porque tinha de ser forte. Muito menos porque as pessoas não conseguiam decifrá-lo. Nem um olhar. Nenhum abraço. Uma palavra de conforto. Ele reclamou. Será que é muito difícil para as pessoas entenderem o que queremos? Será que tenho de esconder meus sentimentos? Ele me questionou. Mas tudo que eu falasse seria comum. Falei apenas que ia passar. Sem desdém. Contei experiências passadas.. Fui conversando até que ele se acalmou. &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/7880472432294913688-3703837897985639405?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3703837897985639405/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3703837897985639405&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3703837897985639405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3703837897985639405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/pensava-que-minha-solidao-era-questao_17.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2854880346176269975</id><published>2010-08-10T10:56:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T11:02:29.306-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ela era feliz a doidado. Seus vestidos, floridos, soltos, seu sorriso,  bonito, seu corpo, lindo como poucos, seu desejo, excessivo, tenso,  tesão intenso, ela queria sempre, sempre, queria amar todos os homens,  gostava de homem, gostava de tudo neles, de quase tudo, gosta ainda: de  barba, do cheiro, de ombros largos, gosta de peito com pêlos, de pernas  longas, gosta de alisar, esfregar, arranhar, lamber e beijar. Gosta de  gostar, porque muitas delas se atrapalham, com medo de se entregar. Mas  ela, não. Adora se dar, adora se excitar e excitar.



&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://blogs.estadao.com.br/marcelo-rubens-paiva/a-garota-e-os-caras/"&gt;Texto de Marcelo Rubem Paiva  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;(continue lendo)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&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/7880472432294913688-2854880346176269975?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2854880346176269975/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2854880346176269975&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2854880346176269975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2854880346176269975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/ela-era-feliz-doidado.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2139352938935358563</id><published>2010-08-09T21:00:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T21:08:12.871-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "&gt;porque hoje é segunda e já me pego stressada. queria chegar em casa e dar aquela aliviada. depois num simples piscar de olhos estar totalmente livre aqui no meu quarto sempre quente. acho que vou dormir agora...&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/7880472432294913688-2139352938935358563?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2139352938935358563/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2139352938935358563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2139352938935358563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2139352938935358563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/porque-hoje-e-segunda-e-ja-me-pego.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8232193869712490096</id><published>2010-08-08T13:14:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T13:31:28.266-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TF7bK0UhKTI/AAAAAAAABw0/89pF1BUkZl0/s1600/pai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TF7bK0UhKTI/AAAAAAAABw0/89pF1BUkZl0/s320/pai.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503076773583202610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-8232193869712490096?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8232193869712490096/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8232193869712490096&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8232193869712490096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8232193869712490096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TF7bK0UhKTI/AAAAAAAABw0/89pF1BUkZl0/s72-c/pai.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3733376264955401876</id><published>2010-08-04T20:57:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T23:22:47.879-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SSssSSssSSss.. esvaziando</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Quando penso em você repito diversas vezes o seu nome. Em voz alta ou murmurando. Talvez de tanto falar algum dia você se materializa. Ou aos poucos você vai se esvaziando daqui de dentro. Lá vai SSSSSSSsssssssSSSSSSSSSSssssssss. Um dia você simplesmente desaparece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;p.s. o 'S' não é a inicial dele. É 'S' de sicrano.&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/7880472432294913688-3733376264955401876?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3733376264955401876/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3733376264955401876&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3733376264955401876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3733376264955401876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/ssssssssssss-esvaziando.html' title='SSssSSssSSss.. esvaziando'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2046626927156172066</id><published>2010-08-01T23:12:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T23:18:15.048-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ensaio sobre alguma coisa..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Hoje senti saudade, não de você, mas de tudo que estava ao nosso redor e hoje não está. Senti vontade de sentir aquilo que eu sentia. Beijar teu rosto sempre tão quente. Mas, sabe já não somos o que fomos e já não sou mais o que era. O mundo girou, feito bola, louca, passos esparsos. Ainda bem, dirão. Graças a Deus – agradecerão.
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;São os desígnios de alguém, chamado Destino ou Acaso. Tanto faz... certo é que passado, amassado está. Com letras borradas no fundo do lixeiro. É muito investimento, de tempo, de vida. É muita troca, moedas diferentes. O jornal de hoje enrola o peixe de amanhã.
E vamos seguindo talvez cabisbaixos. Quem sabe? Existem possibilidades. Quem sabe um dia nos cruzamos pela rua, perguntas frívolas serão feitas. Teu olhar terá mudado, teus olhos mais cinza... Filhos, casa, comida e roupa lavada.
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Sonhos que de tão distante adormeceram, cansados pobrezinhos. Não temos culpa, ninguém tem. Bonequinhos do Destino, teatro de Deus, percalços humanos. Gostei de você, fiz parte da sua vida, na minha te dediquei um capítulo. Cheio de palavras que por mais belas que sejam, são apenas sombras.
Quero te ver feliz, um dia desses parados no mesmo sinal, mas você não se dá conta de mim... Eu te vejo, te espio. O semáforo está verde, avance.... adeus!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://anandasworld.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://anandasworld.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Texto de Ananda Sampaio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-2046626927156172066?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2046626927156172066/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2046626927156172066&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2046626927156172066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2046626927156172066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/08/ensaio-sobre-alguma-coisa.html' title='Ensaio sobre alguma coisa..'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6013916816364537001</id><published>2010-07-29T23:01:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T23:24:22.366-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Um Mr. Darcy por favor!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TFI3ccJiBqI/AAAAAAAABws/rUpsHKiwl1Q/s1600/pride_and_prejudice_matthew_macfadwww.backseatcuddler.comyen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TFI3ccJiBqI/AAAAAAAABws/rUpsHKiwl1Q/s320/pride_and_prejudice_matthew_macfadwww.backseatcuddler.comyen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499519056704833186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;(Jane Austen - Orgulho e Preconceito)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 20px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:medium;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 20px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:medium;"&gt;"Em vão tenho lutado comigo mesmo; nada consegui. Meus sentimentos não podem ser reprimidos, e preciso que me permita dizer-lhe que eu a admiro e a amo ardentemente".&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/7880472432294913688-6013916816364537001?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6013916816364537001/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6013916816364537001&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6013916816364537001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6013916816364537001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/um-mr-darcy-por-favor.html' title='Um Mr. Darcy por favor!'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TFI3ccJiBqI/AAAAAAAABws/rUpsHKiwl1Q/s72-c/pride_and_prejudice_matthew_macfadwww.backseatcuddler.comyen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5032695885044862957</id><published>2010-07-28T01:11:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T21:59:01.507-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não gosto quando ele me chama de gatinha. Da indelicadeza. Da distância. De quando ignora ou simplesmente vai embora. Não gosto das vezes que arrisquei para vê-lo. E ele não fez valer a pena.&lt;/span&gt; Não gosto quando ele volta. Dizendo que quer me ver novamente. Quer me ter. Quer me comer. Ou simplesmente um sms. Ou um e-mail picante. Não gosto da sensação de ego ferido. De amor reprimido ou esquecido. Não gosto de perder. Também não gosto da covardia estampada. Das mentiras sinceras. Das juras. Das lamúrias. Da exarcebação de um amor não concebido. Não gosto de terminar. De ter a sensação de poder. Porque dói. Porque terminar se era o que você queria?. Não gosto de questionar. Não gosto de perder a liberdade. Não gosto quando sinto que não o quero mais. Ou que ele não está mais me fazendo feliz. Não gosto de afirmar que ele não é mais meu bem querer. Não gosto das inconstâncias. Do exagero. Da fala. Da lágrima. Ferida aberta. Não gosto de ser chamada atenção. Que me admirem tão visivelmente. É que tenho vergonha. Não gosto quando ele entra no msn e não fala comigo. Não gosto de ter que excluir ele do meu msn ou orkut. Por quê?. Se não consegui excluí-lo de vez da minha vida. Sempre irei achar alguma coisa que não gosto nele. Eles sempre terão algum defeito.. e isso nunca tem fim.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-5032695885044862957?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5032695885044862957/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5032695885044862957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5032695885044862957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5032695885044862957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/nao-gosto-quando-ele-me-chama-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3384843884490479780</id><published>2010-07-26T22:23:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T23:14:13.675-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Pensei em deletar meu orkut e transferir tudo para cá. mas vi que não era necessário tamanha façanha pois em seguida estaria perdendo alguns nomes legais e comunidades que me ajudariam&lt;/span&gt;. Então como forma de terapia comecei a deletar pessoas. Para que tantas pessoas se nem a metade delas realmente se importam como anda minha vida? Para que elas precisam saber, ver, ler idiossincrasias minhas? Não tive nenhum sentimento maquiavélico em relação, mas me senti mais confortável fazendo. Por favor, aos que foram deletados. Nada pessoal. Um texto surgiu na volta da academia sobre tempo com um final bem &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fernando Pessoa&lt;/span&gt;, mas é claro que as palavras fugiram.. tentei reaver no papel, mas simplesmente não consigo imprimir.. palavras perdidas apenas. É que a conversa no msn e no skype está sendo tão produtiva que desviou minha atenção. Havia escrito no meu diário ontem que estava sentido que faltava algo como se estivesse recomeçando.. Agora sei exatamente o que sinto.  O que antes me fazia falta, agora não passa de lembranças, boas recordações.. O que não quer dizer que o sentimento se esvaziou.. Se transformou, eu diria. Estou de bom humor.. É tempo de colocar as ideias pra funcionar. Vou nessa.. Até breve&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/7880472432294913688-3384843884490479780?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3384843884490479780/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3384843884490479780&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3384843884490479780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3384843884490479780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/pensei-em-deletar-meu-orkut-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8793008355187704694</id><published>2010-07-22T21:51:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T22:09:17.425-03:00</updated><title type='text'>dependente emocional</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;o que era pra ser um final de recesso sossegado eis que me aparece um mala. não daqueles caras chatos. inconvenientes.&lt;/span&gt; é pior do que se possa imaginar. o dependente emocional. se tem uma coisa que tenho certeza de não suportar em um homem é justamente dependência. amor tá onde? amor tá fazendo o que? amor não quer saber de mim.! amor tu tá tão distante! preocupação é importante sim, mas tudo tem um limite. foi essa dependência que me fez tirar meu time de campo na prorrogação quando jogava com o 'ex'. pior do que se livrar de um dependente emocional é lidar com a dependência do 'homem' de outra pessoa. pra ser mais exata de uma amiga. o cara é gente boa. mas ao mesmo tempo o maior babaca. o maior corno. o sem amor próprio. sem orgulho. sem porra nenhuma. porque não tem amor certo para aturar tamanha safadeza e mentira. e ainda por cima colocar uma pessoa de fora dentro do problema. porque até pra mentir você tem que ser no mínimo inteligente. mas a massa cefálica é pouca para muita bunda. sinceramente estou stressada. falta bem pouco para soltar os cachorros. sou zangada. mas  não queira me ver com raiva... cara se toca!
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-8793008355187704694?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8793008355187704694/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8793008355187704694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8793008355187704694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8793008355187704694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/dependente-emocional.html' title='dependente emocional'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3369937032653488645</id><published>2010-07-22T00:46:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T21:51:21.215-03:00</updated><title type='text'>não me enche o saco!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;as pessoas tem que entender definitivamente uma coisa. que a vida é dinâmica. não dá pra ser a mesma o tempo todo. &lt;/span&gt;as vezes estou sorrindo. noutras estou tristonha. mas agora estou normal. nem um. nem outra coisa. estou bem. é que as vezes eu sou intolerante. as vezes me enche o saco. é amigo com dor de cotovelo. é amiga fútil. é amiga inútil.  é amiga burra. é amigo reclamando da vida. é amigo isso é aquilo... me enche o saco oras! só isso. estou na boa. estou curtindo meus sete dias de recesso. estou voltando com gás para a academia. meu coração finalmente está se esvaziando daquele garoto. estou bem. só não me enche o saco com essa: tá bem joyce? pra pqp.&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/7880472432294913688-3369937032653488645?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3369937032653488645/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3369937032653488645&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3369937032653488645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3369937032653488645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/nao-me-enche-o-saco.html' title='não me enche o saco!'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1393529064820659724</id><published>2010-07-16T23:09:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T23:18:47.292-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fernando Pessoa</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style=" line-height: 115%;  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Eu amo tudo o que foi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=" line-height: 115%;  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Tudo o que já não é&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;A dor que já não me dói&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;A antiga e errônea fé&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;O ontem que a dor deixou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;O que deixou alegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Só porque foi, e voou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;E hoje é já outro dia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/7880472432294913688-1393529064820659724?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1393529064820659724/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1393529064820659724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1393529064820659724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1393529064820659724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/fernando-pessoa.html' title='Fernando Pessoa'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8436403721597362815</id><published>2010-07-15T21:35:00.008-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T23:10:01.679-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;O que escrever? Se não posso pedir nem reclamar? Será que posso desejar? Desejar ver o mar. Desejar sentir o vento no meu rosto. Desejar passar as mãos nos olhos porque o sal do mar fez eles arderem. Tirar a areia do fundo do meu biquíni ao sair  do mergulho.  Desejar sentar naquelas barracas rústicas e pedir uma cerveja gelada. Depois uma corda de caranguejo. Desejar dar um passeio beira- mar e relembrar tantas coisas vividas. Sorrir e papear com os amigos. Ir dormir. E quando fosse noutro dia. Tudo que desejei se repetisse novamente. Não na mesma ordem. Mas na mesma intensidade do meu desejo. . E ao retornar pra casa sentir que um pedaço da mim&lt;/span&gt; ficou como oferenda para Iemanjá.  &lt;/span&gt;Eu desejo...
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-8436403721597362815?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8436403721597362815/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8436403721597362815&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8436403721597362815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8436403721597362815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/o-que-escrever-se-nao-posso-pedir-nem.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6792431961848059650</id><published>2010-07-12T06:49:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T08:40:39.471-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Aos 26</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDrn1YwxnSI/AAAAAAAABv0/8iiWR2aXjdk/s1600/ln.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 189px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDrn1YwxnSI/AAAAAAAABv0/8iiWR2aXjdk/s320/ln.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492957599897853218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;" &gt;Hoje é o dia da Joy. Joy é muito mais que você vê todo dia. É muito mais que uma loucura a cada dia. Joy é alegria. Como Joy se reinventa, ela está adotando uma nova política de vida. Prometi não pedir mais nada. Ou reclamar. Tenho meus amores. Vivi loucuras. Aprontei peripécias. Trabalho.  Viajo. Malho. Vou vivendo. E o que a vida me  proporcionar a partir dos 26. Será intervenção ou reinvenção minha. E que seja assim. Amém!&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/7880472432294913688-6792431961848059650?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6792431961848059650/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6792431961848059650&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6792431961848059650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6792431961848059650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/aos-26.html' title='Aos 26'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDrn1YwxnSI/AAAAAAAABv0/8iiWR2aXjdk/s72-c/ln.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-9209531072272358286</id><published>2010-07-08T20:56:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T20:58:56.831-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDZmEUgRjkI/AAAAAAAABvs/HAntB9MAOfw/s1600/OgAAAJHt1ec8h5IQ84waGWniyWZaN8KRP0mc6YdRSiHknX9Iu3-pHETjonU1WP-WWWCAZZiuZnFeojZ_9Azp3Dt_2L8Am1T1UNUuw-WJla4L_i15YwcRjmbO4nfJ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDZmEUgRjkI/AAAAAAAABvs/HAntB9MAOfw/s320/OgAAAJHt1ec8h5IQ84waGWniyWZaN8KRP0mc6YdRSiHknX9Iu3-pHETjonU1WP-WWWCAZZiuZnFeojZ_9Azp3Dt_2L8Am1T1UNUuw-WJla4L_i15YwcRjmbO4nfJ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491689020034485826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;anteriormente publicada!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-9209531072272358286?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/9209531072272358286/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=9209531072272358286&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/9209531072272358286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/9209531072272358286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/anteriormente-publicada.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDZmEUgRjkI/AAAAAAAABvs/HAntB9MAOfw/s72-c/OgAAAJHt1ec8h5IQ84waGWniyWZaN8KRP0mc6YdRSiHknX9Iu3-pHETjonU1WP-WWWCAZZiuZnFeojZ_9Azp3Dt_2L8Am1T1UNUuw-WJla4L_i15YwcRjmbO4nfJ.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4423212552237024413</id><published>2010-07-04T23:45:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T23:46:38.372-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDFHSixHqlI/AAAAAAAABvc/Els0dy_jojY/s1600/cida-leminski.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490247804637391442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDFHSixHqlI/AAAAAAAABvc/Els0dy_jojY/s320/cida-leminski.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pedacosdepoemas.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pedaços de Poemas&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&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/7880472432294913688-4423212552237024413?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4423212552237024413/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4423212552237024413&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4423212552237024413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4423212552237024413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/pedacos-de-poemas.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TDFHSixHqlI/AAAAAAAABvc/Els0dy_jojY/s72-c/cida-leminski.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2243344059837601189</id><published>2010-07-03T01:54:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T12:06:51.100-03:00</updated><title type='text'>E daí?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Estou bêbada sabe. Embriagada de solidez.  E não ligo para o que é comum. Me embriago porque nunca mais o fiz. Por que vibro. E por que pensei que fosse  esquecer. Por que tenho que me controlar diante da opacidade? Não sou louca. Nenhum segundo sequer. Apenas me reinvento. Jamais sou a mesma. Que você olha, observa ou seca. Então enjoy-me please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&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/7880472432294913688-2243344059837601189?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2243344059837601189/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2243344059837601189&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2243344059837601189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2243344059837601189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/e-dai.html' title='E daí?'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-2006081366760208752</id><published>2010-07-01T23:26:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:18:15.483-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Infant Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TC4DI4Z0rgI/AAAAAAAABvU/TBYKfYa8tCg/s1600/joyce.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489328446925745666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TC4DI4Z0rgI/AAAAAAAABvU/TBYKfYa8tCg/s320/joyce.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TC1O4jG0jKI/AAAAAAAABvM/DpMOeXTYGgI/s1600/DSC_0285.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;

&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have no name. I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am Joy is my name, Sweet joy befall thee. Pretty joy! Sweet joy but two days old. Sweet joy I call thee: Thou dost smile. I sing the while Sweet joy befall thee. (William Blake)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-2006081366760208752?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/2006081366760208752/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=2006081366760208752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2006081366760208752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/2006081366760208752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/07/hum.html' title='Infant Joy'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TC4DI4Z0rgI/AAAAAAAABvU/TBYKfYa8tCg/s72-c/joyce.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7452656762772237386</id><published>2010-06-28T01:21:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T01:45:13.140-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Meio Tati Bernardi hoje..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Cada vez que eu volto de uma porrada, volto com uma parte a menos do corpo. O dia que só sobrar a piriquita talvez dê certo. &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/7880472432294913688-7452656762772237386?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7452656762772237386/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7452656762772237386&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7452656762772237386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7452656762772237386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/meio-tati-bernardi-hoje.html' title='Meio Tati Bernardi hoje..'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8465980287120227623</id><published>2010-06-25T10:16:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T10:46:20.999-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Michael Jackson</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyjnY4XxI/AAAAAAAABvE/xDMw8cmI7vw/s1600/DSC_0413.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyjnY4XxI/AAAAAAAABvE/xDMw8cmI7vw/s320/DSC_0413.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486706570982612754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyjR0bYEI/AAAAAAAABu8/kOSOSGHbln0/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyjR0bYEI/AAAAAAAABu8/kOSOSGHbln0/s320/DSC_0032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486706565192572994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyiz0L9_I/AAAAAAAABu0/p7ttnpForg8/s1600/DSC_0411.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyiz0L9_I/AAAAAAAABu0/p7ttnpForg8/s320/DSC_0411.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486706557138499570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyiCQz4eI/AAAAAAAABus/BB78YVREi4k/s1600/DSC_0410.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyiCQz4eI/AAAAAAAABus/BB78YVREi4k/s320/DSC_0410.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486706543836783074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Escultura: Zé Rodrigues// Fotos: Joyce Vieira&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-8465980287120227623?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8465980287120227623/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8465980287120227623&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8465980287120227623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8465980287120227623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/michael-jackson.html' title='Michael Jackson'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCSyjnY4XxI/AAAAAAAABvE/xDMw8cmI7vw/s72-c/DSC_0413.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4094488734219438558</id><published>2010-06-24T23:19:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T10:46:41.966-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sanfoneiro</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQr0EzqC9I/AAAAAAAABuc/hfdSSQDF-Rw/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQr0EzqC9I/AAAAAAAABuc/hfdSSQDF-Rw/s320/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486558419687705554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQrzlz-XxI/AAAAAAAABuU/YT_VI2_q7iM/s1600/DSC_0420.JPG"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQrzlz-XxI/AAAAAAAABuU/YT_VI2_q7iM/s320/DSC_0420.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486558411367538450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQrzYi-jGI/AAAAAAAABuM/d3BCDnTVzAU/s1600/DSC_0419.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQrzYi-jGI/AAAAAAAABuM/d3BCDnTVzAU/s320/DSC_0419.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486558407806585954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Escultura: Zé Rodrigues// Fotos: Joyce Vieira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-4094488734219438558?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4094488734219438558/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4094488734219438558&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4094488734219438558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4094488734219438558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/sanfoneiro.html' title='Sanfoneiro'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQr0EzqC9I/AAAAAAAABuc/hfdSSQDF-Rw/s72-c/DSC_0022.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7412574360636053393</id><published>2010-06-24T22:54:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T01:16:17.321-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O homem é o lobo do homem</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQPq1duhsI/AAAAAAAABuE/Y6w__WRVbg0/s1600/DSC_0051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQPq1duhsI/AAAAAAAABuE/Y6w__WRVbg0/s320/DSC_0051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486527474624792258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;scultura: Zé Rodrigues// Foto: Joyce Vieira&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-7412574360636053393?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7412574360636053393/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7412574360636053393&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7412574360636053393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7412574360636053393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/e-scultura-jose-rodrigues-foto-joyce.html' title='O homem é o lobo do homem'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TCQPq1duhsI/AAAAAAAABuE/Y6w__WRVbg0/s72-c/DSC_0051.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8382871505269921181</id><published>2010-06-22T22:18:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T22:40:30.470-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Dei uma mudada hoje no layout do blog, mas não ficou legal. Prometo bloguinho que amanhã vejo isso com carinho. Estamos caminhando para julho e eu vivi tanta coisa nesse primeiro semestre que dá pra contar uma vida toda. Ainda estou meio blasé em relação à semana passada que se foi tão rápida quanto chegou. O 27º Salão Internacional de Humor do Piauí veio e me abraçou fortemente. Mais um evento que eu precisava para sair de uma aflição que parecia absoluta e sem fim. Ainda restam resquícios, mas estou com uma sensação diferente. Como se anos tivessem se passado. Sem nenhum exagero. E foi uma semana corrida e gostosa. Emagreci mais ainda, perdi sono, tive stress, mas sempre fica aquela saudade. Detesto o sentimento de 'terminou' vamos voltar pra realidade. E estou com a 'dura' tarefa de separar as fotos do Salão... Quero tanto alguma coisa que eu nem sei o que é. Quero viajar talvez, passar uns 15 dias fora daqui. Talvez um lugar qualquer, talvez um lugar onde tenha mar. Ficar off do mundo. Curtindo qualquer maré.. E meu aniversário está chegando para lembrar que ainda tenho muito que conquistar, aprender, viver. E não estou planejando nada para este mês. Só depois é que vou saber o que vai ser da minha vida. Ando tão dramática, tão sensível, tão carente. Preciso recuperar meu gás, minha saúde, meu corpo. Estou precisando dormir mais um pouco. Vou nessa! &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/7880472432294913688-8382871505269921181?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8382871505269921181/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8382871505269921181&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8382871505269921181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8382871505269921181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/dei-uma-mudada-hoje-no-layout-do-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3060943368610023795</id><published>2010-06-12T09:17:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T09:25:29.965-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Solteira numa boa..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TBN8nPgJHMI/AAAAAAAABt8/GIm_cZnf8Cw/s1600/sozinha.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TBN8nPgJHMI/AAAAAAAABt8/GIm_cZnf8Cw/s320/sozinha.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481862185058114754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Desde o começo desse blog no dia dos namorados escrevo algo que espero dos homens que um dia possam ser alguma coisa na minha vida. Hoje é diferente. Não tem biotipo, jeito, físico, idade. Andei pensando no que esperava de alguém e conclui que quero estar feliz, ser livre e fazer da minha vida com outrém algo prazeroso. Estar com alguém que eu me sinta à vontade para qualquer coisa. E também trocar tudo que gosto de receber. A grande verdade é que sempre queremos mais carinho, mais atenção, mais ligações, mais mensagens, mais presença, mais carne, mais cama e muitas vezes não damos o que mais cobramos ou esperamos. Por muito tempo me cobrei, me questionei ou invejei quem tem um alguém. Mas estou tranquila solteira. Pois como eu disse, hoje é diferente. Hoje brindo aos que passaram por mim, aqueles que invadiram minha vida, aqueles que me deram amor, paixão, prazer. Porque de cada um deles também tirei pedaços. Mais pedaços bons do que ruins. Aos que tem namorado(a) enjoy one day. Aos que estão solteiros como eu enjoy for life forever!&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/7880472432294913688-3060943368610023795?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3060943368610023795/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3060943368610023795&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3060943368610023795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3060943368610023795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/solteira-numa-boa.html' title='Solteira numa boa..'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TBN8nPgJHMI/AAAAAAAABt8/GIm_cZnf8Cw/s72-c/sozinha.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-491340939365094442</id><published>2010-06-10T17:49:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T18:14:02.237-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TBFVGZbv6vI/AAAAAAAABt0/YbNadtrA2_g/s1600/PRA-TUDO.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TBFVGZbv6vI/AAAAAAAABt0/YbNadtrA2_g/s320/PRA-TUDO.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481255789881453298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-491340939365094442?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/491340939365094442/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=491340939365094442&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/491340939365094442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/491340939365094442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TBFVGZbv6vI/AAAAAAAABt0/YbNadtrA2_g/s72-c/PRA-TUDO.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1501166566378040590</id><published>2010-06-06T21:45:00.013-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T01:23:03.967-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Maria Rita em Pedro II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAxIQpwpw3I/AAAAAAAABtc/Coji7KnoSK0/s1600/600x400_fb9f259742a0ae442d381b4fc40c8b1d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAxIQpwpw3I/AAAAAAAABtc/Coji7KnoSK0/s320/600x400_fb9f259742a0ae442d381b4fc40c8b1d.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479834297528075122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Foto: Paulo Barros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Minha passagem por Pedro II esse ano foi meteórica. Tudo por causa do show da Maria Rita. E que show perfeito. Que repertório marcante. Que presença de palco. Quando ela cantou Trajetória &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;(letra abaixo)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;, Não vale a pena e Muito Pouco, faltei cortar os pulsos. São músicas lindas de arrepiar a alma. Foram executadas no momento certo, pois é tudo que tenho passado esses meses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Trajetória&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;não perca tempo assim contando história. pra que forçar tanto a memória. pra dizer que a triste hora do fim se faz notória. e continuar a trajetória. é retroceder. não há no mundo lei. que possa condenar. alguém que a um outro alguém. deixou de amar. eu já me preparei. parei para pensar. e vi que é bem melhor não perguntar. por que é que tem que ser assim? ninguém jamais pôde mudar. recebe menos quem mais tem pra dar. e agora queira dar licença. que eu já vou. deixa assim, por favor. não ligue se acaso o meu pranto rolar. tudo bem. me deseje só felicidade. vamos manter a amizade. mas não me queira só por pena. nem me crie mais problemas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;(Arlindo Cruz/Serginho Meriti/Franco)&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/7880472432294913688-1501166566378040590?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1501166566378040590/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1501166566378040590&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1501166566378040590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1501166566378040590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/maria-rita-em-pedro-ii.html' title='Maria Rita em Pedro II'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAxIQpwpw3I/AAAAAAAABtc/Coji7KnoSK0/s72-c/600x400_fb9f259742a0ae442d381b4fc40c8b1d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-448697617446130622</id><published>2010-06-04T21:21:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T21:33:07.185-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Lenha</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;eu não sei dizer. o que quer dizer. o que vou dizer. eu amo você. mas sei o que. isso quer dizer. eu não sei porque. eu teimo em dizer.  que amo você.  se eu não sei dizer. o que quer dizer. o que vou dizer.  se eu digo pare. você não repare. no que posso parecer.  se eu digo siga. o que quer que eu diga. você não vai me entender. mas se eu digo venha. você traz a lenha. pro meu corpo acender. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(Zeca Baleiro e Adriana Calcanhoto)&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/7880472432294913688-448697617446130622?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/448697617446130622/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=448697617446130622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/448697617446130622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/448697617446130622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/06/lenha.html' title='Lenha'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-996087033207156575</id><published>2010-05-30T22:28:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T22:29:27.674-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQ2xjL4VI/AAAAAAAABsk/htQC8HNOocc/s1600/camila+por+joy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQ2xjL4VI/AAAAAAAABsk/htQC8HNOocc/s320/camila+por+joy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477240105012552018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Camila Crisóstemo - modelo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-996087033207156575?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/996087033207156575/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=996087033207156575&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/996087033207156575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/996087033207156575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/camila-crisostemo-modelo_30.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQ2xjL4VI/AAAAAAAABsk/htQC8HNOocc/s72-c/camila+por+joy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1766762729523817447</id><published>2010-05-30T22:26:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T22:28:00.796-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQdD9tShI/AAAAAAAABsc/kOVfdA8Psfc/s1600/camila+por+joy1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQdD9tShI/AAAAAAAABsc/kOVfdA8Psfc/s320/camila+por+joy1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477239663279032850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Camila Crisóstemo - modelo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-1766762729523817447?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1766762729523817447/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1766762729523817447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1766762729523817447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1766762729523817447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/camila-crisostemo-modelo.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQdD9tShI/AAAAAAAABsc/kOVfdA8Psfc/s72-c/camila+por+joy1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1803450001339348666</id><published>2010-05-30T11:00:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T22:26:12.948-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQBTnwncI/AAAAAAAABsU/yIwpPHgGBGo/s1600/cruzrosa_joy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQBTnwncI/AAAAAAAABsU/yIwpPHgGBGo/s320/cruzrosa_joy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477239186445606338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Foto: Joyce Vieira&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-1803450001339348666?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1803450001339348666/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1803450001339348666&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1803450001339348666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1803450001339348666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/foto-joyce-vieira.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/TAMQBTnwncI/AAAAAAAABsU/yIwpPHgGBGo/s72-c/cruzrosa_joy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-9129658024710824387</id><published>2010-05-27T16:56:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T17:18:05.935-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Você não me conhece. Eu tenho que gritar isso, por que você está surdo e não me ouve. Você não tem um nome eu tenho. Você é um rosto na multidão eu sou o centro das atenções. Fala coisas sem pensar. Brincadeiras sem direção. Ou obvia repreensão. Muitas vezes não ver o que fala. Não sente na pele o calafrio frio de uma frase mal dita. Maldita. Me disse o que eu já tinha previsto. Anotado inclusive. Aquelas emoções repentinas e vontades, desfaleceram e me fizeram pensar que a cada dia, mais longe quero ficar.E ficarei. Já deu. Adeus!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(texto de jailson filho e fauzi arap - modificado por Joy)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; font-size: medium; "&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&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/7880472432294913688-9129658024710824387?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/9129658024710824387/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=9129658024710824387&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/9129658024710824387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/9129658024710824387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/voce-nao-me-conhece.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5351001316596952326</id><published>2010-05-26T20:53:00.009-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T21:28:31.557-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;ele só fala isso pra me ofender. só pode. e é claro que fico puta. demasiadamente com raiva. querendo esganar esse filho da puta. quando é que tu tem princípios? tu pensou nisso quando bateu o primeiro papo provocador? quando pediu meu telefone e ligou e mandou sms? tu pensou em princípios quando deitou comigo na cama? quando fez juras? ou quando se arriscou para me ter, ver, comer? a resposta é NÃO. você não teve princípios quando decidiu entrar na minha vida. por que quando decidiu sair, diz que sim? seu flor. a vida é cheias de escolhas. você por meses escolheu viver a sua comigo. e nenhum momento titubeou. ao contrário. Enjoy-ce várias vezes. e o que é certo e errado nessa droga de vida?&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/7880472432294913688-5351001316596952326?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5351001316596952326/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5351001316596952326&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5351001316596952326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5351001316596952326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/ele-so-fala-isso-pra-me-ofender.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3936254665714313685</id><published>2010-05-25T16:24:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T16:27:38.511-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S_wj8YyeM6I/AAAAAAAABsM/qnPSHGEtOdo/s1600/tires-girl_thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S_wj8YyeM6I/AAAAAAAABsM/qnPSHGEtOdo/s320/tires-girl_thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475290767328949154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm fine today!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-3936254665714313685?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3936254665714313685/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3936254665714313685&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3936254665714313685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3936254665714313685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-fine-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S_wj8YyeM6I/AAAAAAAABsM/qnPSHGEtOdo/s72-c/tires-girl_thumb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7268159493771889454</id><published>2010-05-22T02:10:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T22:29:04.937-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;... até parece que se passaram anos essa semana. sair de casa e participar ativamente da segunda edição do piauí fashion week, me fez abstrair essa dor que vinha me atormentando. é como se 'ele' fizesse parte da minha vida, mas em algum momento que se passou, muito embora me pegue pensando, recordando.. e porque não sentindo saudade, angústia e raiva. A verdade é que acabou quando começou.. os exageros, a intensidade, as cobranças, fizeram tudo a ruir, pois como diz a música não é a "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;quantidade que faz a estrutura de um grande amor"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;. O difícil é dizer para o coração que você tem que se acostumar e recomeçar. É que a vontade de ser feliz em qualquer situação nos faz aventurar. E aquele algoz sempre parece ser o único. Mas devo admitir que estar com 'ele' foi diferente, é inexplicável e me fazia bem. Você demora meia vida para encontrar alguém com magnetismo mutuo, mas que trás todas as intempéries da vida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/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/7880472432294913688-7268159493771889454?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7268159493771889454/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7268159493771889454&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7268159493771889454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7268159493771889454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post_22.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3109036055342362169</id><published>2010-05-18T14:32:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T14:38:13.334-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Paulinho Moska para Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "&gt;morri mais um pouco hoje. não sou mais a mesma. as horas nunca andam para trás. todo dia é dia de aprender um pouco. do muito que a vida trás. mas muito pra mim é tão pouco. e pouco é pouco demais. viver tá me deixando louca. não sei mais do que sou capaz. gritando pra não ficar rouca. em guerra lutando por paz. muito pra mim é tão pouco. e pouco eu não quero mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-3109036055342362169?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3109036055342362169/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3109036055342362169&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3109036055342362169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3109036055342362169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/paulinho-moska-para-joy.html' title='Paulinho Moska para Joy'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6672062873337637374</id><published>2010-05-13T23:26:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T23:35:33.975-03:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;tô deprimida. faz algumas semanas. ou não me dei conta de que acumulei algum tempo. dizem que é stress emocional. pode ser. é tudo junto e misturado. não dá pra definir bem. tão tal que venho cometendo suicídio social. me desliguei. poxa, é que as vezes cansa. Você senta e escuta o que as pessoas estão passando, sentindo.. mas e você? e quando você quer colo, consolo?. porque tenho que ser assim, fazer isso, ou falar aquilo?. não funciono assim. as coisas acontecem naturalmente. sou birrenta. não gosto de pressão. só me travo mais. estarei mais e mais um pouco fora daqui. qualquer dia volto. "deixar estar, vai passar, com sorte tudo vai ser breve"...&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/7880472432294913688-6672062873337637374?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6672062873337637374/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6672062873337637374&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6672062873337637374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6672062873337637374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5575859479674531432</id><published>2010-04-25T21:19:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T22:04:04.785-03:00</updated><title type='text'>medo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;tive todas as variantes do medo. mas o que tive mais medo era de estar sendo feliz. delimitei espaço.. aquilo não estava certo. pensava incessantemente. e desejava fortemente que ele me deixasse. quando me senti ameaçada fiquei transtornada. derramei todas as lágrimas, questionei. a única certeza que restou foi que eu queria estar feliz em tal companhia em qualquer circunstância dada. porque as pessoas tem que complicar tanto? por que elas sempre exigem aquilo que elas não podem dar?&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/7880472432294913688-5575859479674531432?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5575859479674531432/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5575859479674531432&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5575859479674531432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5575859479674531432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/04/medo.html' title='medo'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1110566295002295648</id><published>2010-04-20T21:18:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T21:47:53.726-03:00</updated><title type='text'>por ai</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Querido diário. Ando sumida. Desculpa honey é que andei viajando por ai, por aqui. Não se sabe ao certo.&lt;/span&gt; O certo é que andei vendo o mundo. Fotografando rostos. Rabiscando papeis. Me emocionando com retratos.. Ai você pensa &lt;em&gt;ô vida boa da porra&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Se lembra das promessas que fez na vida. E que não deixaria nada te empatar de realizá-las. E o mais importante. Ser feliz! Tarefa nada fácil. Quando você se propõe a algo, outrem complica... &lt;em&gt;felicidade por segundo&lt;/em&gt;.. depois escrevo mais.  &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/7880472432294913688-1110566295002295648?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1110566295002295648/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1110566295002295648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1110566295002295648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1110566295002295648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/04/por-ai.html' title='por ai'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6546995250753964032</id><published>2010-04-15T09:41:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T09:49:06.348-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S8cKxXh-pwI/AAAAAAAABsE/hEp-QfQqu_w/s1600/DSC_0215b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S8cKxXh-pwI/AAAAAAAABsE/hEp-QfQqu_w/s320/DSC_0215b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460344916456417026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;a href="http://naftalina55.blogspot.com/"&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;a href="http://naftalina55.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lina Faria&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(direto do blog do solda)&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/7880472432294913688-6546995250753964032?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6546995250753964032/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6546995250753964032&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6546995250753964032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6546995250753964032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/04/lina-faria.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S8cKxXh-pwI/AAAAAAAABsE/hEp-QfQqu_w/s72-c/DSC_0215b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6017099408770969196</id><published>2010-04-01T17:08:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T17:29:09.734-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;... quando você sabe as respostas, mas mesmo assim insiste em permanecer no 'erro'. sabe que aquela felicidade é presença, mas se esvazia quando ele vai embora. pois se tem o corpo nos momentos de prazer, mas a alma fica ali, isolada no canto, vazia. você sabe que vai acabar, mas você não quer dar o primeiro passo. porque? é difícil acabar com essa felicidade oculta. que ninguém sabe, ninguém sente. ninguém vê. só eu.&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/7880472432294913688-6017099408770969196?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6017099408770969196/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6017099408770969196&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6017099408770969196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6017099408770969196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-99816324007402785</id><published>2010-03-24T08:53:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T09:07:42.675-03:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Sabe de uma coisa. Sou inconstante! Deus me livre ser acostumada com a vida, com as pessoas, com os acontecimentos. Se o bom é a porra da dinâmica. De querer tudo e não querer nada. De amar e de ter ojeriza. Pois sem esses intervalos que graça teria a vida pra mim? &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/7880472432294913688-99816324007402785?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/99816324007402785/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=99816324007402785&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/99816324007402785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/99816324007402785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4249995884303914615</id><published>2010-03-17T13:39:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T14:04:42.594-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Chico Buarque</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S6ELk9MuuOI/AAAAAAAABr8/YZSnFwajnOs/s1600-h/cora%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o%2Bferido.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449649753626163426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S6ELk9MuuOI/AAAAAAAABr8/YZSnFwajnOs/s320/cora%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o%2Bferido.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Quero ser a cicatriz; Risonha e corrosiva; Marcada a frio; Ferro e fogo; Em carne viva..."&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/7880472432294913688-4249995884303914615?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4249995884303914615/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4249995884303914615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4249995884303914615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4249995884303914615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/03/chico-buarque.html' title='Chico Buarque'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S6ELk9MuuOI/AAAAAAAABr8/YZSnFwajnOs/s72-c/cora%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o%2Bferido.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-5535845398680845740</id><published>2010-03-15T08:49:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T09:04:12.883-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tati Bernardi &amp; Gabriel Garcia Marquéz</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S54iLLblDDI/AAAAAAAABr0/yqNMFxcXn2w/s1600-h/kiev9_cpia_copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S54iLLblDDI/AAAAAAAABr0/yqNMFxcXn2w/s320/kiev9_cpia_copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448830174607248434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;"E cada hora eu quero uma coisa. E no fundo eu não quero porra nenhuma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;O coração tem mais quartos que uma pensão de putas".&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/7880472432294913688-5535845398680845740?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/5535845398680845740/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=5535845398680845740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5535845398680845740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/5535845398680845740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/03/tati-bernardi-gabriel-garcia-marquez.html' title='Tati Bernardi &amp; Gabriel Garcia Marquéz'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S54iLLblDDI/AAAAAAAABr0/yqNMFxcXn2w/s72-c/kiev9_cpia_copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-282903199655603820</id><published>2010-03-10T09:33:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T09:46:29.619-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Quase nada</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "&gt;De você sei quase nada. Pra onde vai ou porque veio. Qual é a parte da tua estrada no meu caminho? Será um atalho ou um desvio? Se tudo passa como se explica? O amor que fica nessa parada. (Zeca Baleiro?)&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/7880472432294913688-282903199655603820?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/282903199655603820/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=282903199655603820&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/282903199655603820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/282903199655603820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/03/quase-nada.html' title='Quase nada'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-8372343740997911662</id><published>2010-03-05T16:32:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T16:37:07.418-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S5Fc7TpXt-I/AAAAAAAABrc/0EAKXmS-a-E/s1600-h/26%C2%BA+Sal%C3%A3o+Internacional+de+Humor+do+PI+849.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S5Fc7TpXt-I/AAAAAAAABrc/0EAKXmS-a-E/s320/26%C2%BA+Sal%C3%A3o+Internacional+de+Humor+do+PI+849.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445235598423472098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Albert Piauí&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-8372343740997911662?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/8372343740997911662/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=8372343740997911662&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8372343740997911662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/8372343740997911662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/03/albert-piaui.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S5Fc7TpXt-I/AAAAAAAABrc/0EAKXmS-a-E/s72-c/26%C2%BA+Sal%C3%A3o+Internacional+de+Humor+do+PI+849.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3511580645348560480</id><published>2010-02-22T15:22:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T15:26:16.259-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4LLghK_3bI/AAAAAAAABrU/SM_vkKEITWw/s1600-h/campo+maior+335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4LLghK_3bI/AAAAAAAABrU/SM_vkKEITWw/s320/campo+maior+335.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441135059337731506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Igreja de Santo Antônio/Campo Maior (PI)&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-3511580645348560480?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3511580645348560480/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3511580645348560480&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3511580645348560480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3511580645348560480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/igreja-de-santo-antoniocampo-maior-pi.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4LLghK_3bI/AAAAAAAABrU/SM_vkKEITWw/s72-c/campo+maior+335.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7176182698730553927</id><published>2010-02-22T15:19:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T17:11:50.009-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4LLEPGjRWI/AAAAAAAABrM/iasezccJVzA/s1600-h/DSC_0137.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4LLEPGjRWI/AAAAAAAABrM/iasezccJVzA/s320/DSC_0137.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441134573450904930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Marina Linard/ 'socialite' e jornalista&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-7176182698730553927?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7176182698730553927/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7176182698730553927&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7176182698730553927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7176182698730553927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/marina-linard.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4LLEPGjRWI/AAAAAAAABrM/iasezccJVzA/s72-c/DSC_0137.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1640354207883522114</id><published>2010-02-20T14:23:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T14:30:36.609-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fé</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4AbtXWnj3I/AAAAAAAABq0/iOGrwdPMztU/s1600-h/ter%C3%A7ojoy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4AbtXWnj3I/AAAAAAAABq0/iOGrwdPMztU/s320/ter%C3%A7ojoy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440378816040505202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pezinho da Joy.&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-1640354207883522114?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1640354207883522114/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1640354207883522114&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1640354207883522114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1640354207883522114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/fe.html' title='Fé'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S4AbtXWnj3I/AAAAAAAABq0/iOGrwdPMztU/s72-c/ter%C3%A7ojoy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1751274788341031659</id><published>2010-02-19T20:50:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T13:19:51.882-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Como Camões</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Você já sentiu uma dor. Uma dor profunda. Não sabe como surgiu. Como dói. E muito menos onde dói? Amanheci hoje assim. Sentindo uma dor. Mas ela não é física. Quis chorar. Mas sorri. Quis gritar. Mas calei. Quis partir. Mas ainda estou aqui. Que porra é essa se não for amor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;font-size:130%;color:#3E4415;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 16px;font-size:14px;"&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/7880472432294913688-1751274788341031659?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1751274788341031659/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1751274788341031659&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1751274788341031659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1751274788341031659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/como-camoes.html' title='Como Camões'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3305126546715151544</id><published>2010-02-16T23:12:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T00:21:21.328-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Oculto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3tc7x-ZnLI/AAAAAAAABqk/VIRWERh0fb8/s1600-h/placas+ele+e+ela.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3tc7x-ZnLI/AAAAAAAABqk/VIRWERh0fb8/s320/placas+ele+e+ela.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439043157077105842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Que felicidade é essa? Sem angústia? Sem coisas estrambólicas? Nem desespero? O coração não pulsa, como se quisesse sair do peito. Não sei. Não dá pra definir. O que existe é uma tranquilidade. Do primeiro contato. Do sorriso. Do beijo. Da cama. De quando ele foi embora, não sentir que acabou. De não sentir medo. É como se faltasse algo. Ou algo está sendo preenchido quando estou com ele. Não consigo escrever brevemente. Passaria horas tentando descrever o indescritível. Mas só posso dizer que estou assim. Feliz.&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/7880472432294913688-3305126546715151544?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3305126546715151544/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3305126546715151544&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3305126546715151544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3305126546715151544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/oculto.html' title='Oculto'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3tc7x-ZnLI/AAAAAAAABqk/VIRWERh0fb8/s72-c/placas+ele+e+ela.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-4236771779578788591</id><published>2010-02-16T22:54:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T23:00:31.644-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3tNY-0uFfI/AAAAAAAABqc/SMyO1GUx0xI/s1600-h/DSC_0705.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3tNY-0uFfI/AAAAAAAABqc/SMyO1GUx0xI/s320/DSC_0705.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439026066556327410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Luis Felipe chegou!!&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-4236771779578788591?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/4236771779578788591/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=4236771779578788591&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4236771779578788591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/4236771779578788591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/luis-felipe-chegou.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3tNY-0uFfI/AAAAAAAABqc/SMyO1GUx0xI/s72-c/DSC_0705.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-510628874965075712</id><published>2010-02-13T11:29:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T11:32:06.512-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3a3vaRIERI/AAAAAAAABqU/afCPIdAmlUE/s1600-h/nuap%26b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3a3vaRIERI/AAAAAAAABqU/afCPIdAmlUE/s320/nuap%26b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437735625229340946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Rosângela Santana&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-510628874965075712?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/510628874965075712/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=510628874965075712&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/510628874965075712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/510628874965075712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/rosangela-santana.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3a3vaRIERI/AAAAAAAABqU/afCPIdAmlUE/s72-c/nuap%26b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6459140477392149914</id><published>2010-02-13T11:25:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T11:33:05.178-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3a28jSfMzI/AAAAAAAABqM/vibPM5EcjNU/s1600-h/michellanep%26b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3a28jSfMzI/AAAAAAAABqM/vibPM5EcjNU/s320/michellanep%26b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437734751477642034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Michellane &lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-6459140477392149914?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6459140477392149914/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6459140477392149914&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6459140477392149914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6459140477392149914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/michellane.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3a28jSfMzI/AAAAAAAABqM/vibPM5EcjNU/s72-c/michellanep%26b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6445265884602155540</id><published>2010-02-12T19:47:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T19:51:32.591-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Chico Buarque</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3XbZU0Es4I/AAAAAAAABqE/VyxcX1CEsMI/s1600-h/12_mhg_cult_chicobuarque.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3XbZU0Es4I/AAAAAAAABqE/VyxcX1CEsMI/s320/12_mhg_cult_chicobuarque.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437493353250075522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;"Preciso encontrar um homem bom; Que estenda um tapete vermelho e me beije a mão; Que me arranque a roupa no meio da multidão".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-6445265884602155540?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6445265884602155540/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6445265884602155540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6445265884602155540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6445265884602155540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/chico-buarque.html' title='Chico Buarque'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3XbZU0Es4I/AAAAAAAABqE/VyxcX1CEsMI/s72-c/12_mhg_cult_chicobuarque.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7236104904430875435</id><published>2010-02-11T09:08:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T09:23:31.519-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3P0doYj0dI/AAAAAAAABp8/Ufgx_jSxV6w/s1600-h/umigo.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3P0doYj0dI/AAAAAAAABp8/Ufgx_jSxV6w/s320/umigo.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436957965060133330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-7236104904430875435?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7236104904430875435/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7236104904430875435&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7236104904430875435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7236104904430875435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3P0doYj0dI/AAAAAAAABp8/Ufgx_jSxV6w/s72-c/umigo.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-643424121466172451</id><published>2010-02-10T10:00:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T11:34:00.388-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3Kx9XF4s7I/AAAAAAAABp0/VMnFw_J2jUE/s1600-h/Joyce+-+elei%C3%A7%C3%B5es+364.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3Kx9XF4s7I/AAAAAAAABp0/VMnFw_J2jUE/s320/Joyce+-+elei%C3%A7%C3%B5es+364.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436603367918449586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Porto das Barcas/ Parnaíba&lt;/b&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/7880472432294913688-643424121466172451?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/643424121466172451/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=643424121466172451&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/643424121466172451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/643424121466172451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/porto-das-barcas-parnaiba.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S3Kx9XF4s7I/AAAAAAAABp0/VMnFw_J2jUE/s72-c/Joyce+-+elei%C3%A7%C3%B5es+364.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-1623003593291696194</id><published>2010-02-07T22:36:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T22:42:38.559-03:00</updated><title type='text'>essa é pra você..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Sem sentir. Estás presente. Na minha vida. Sem falar. Te dei ouvidos. Sem te ver. Te trouxe aqui. Sem saber. Nem o motivo. Me apeguei. A ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;(Domrs - Sentido)&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/7880472432294913688-1623003593291696194?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/1623003593291696194/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=1623003593291696194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1623003593291696194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/1623003593291696194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/essa-e-pra-voce.html' title='essa é pra você..'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-564503083688275421</id><published>2010-02-04T22:07:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T22:34:35.297-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Azar o seu querido</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 16px; font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;.. não fico mais nervosa. o coração não bate acelerado. as mãos não ficam mais suadas quando falo com você... e sei lá. eu não gosto mais de você como pensava. não gosto mais de você como em alguns meses atrás. sorte é a minha.&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/7880472432294913688-564503083688275421?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/564503083688275421/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=564503083688275421&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/564503083688275421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/564503083688275421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/azar-o-seu-querido.html' title='Azar o seu querido'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-793389131732268356</id><published>2010-02-04T21:49:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T22:04:24.094-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Maltratar, não é direito</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:medium;"&gt;moço, maltratar não é direito. essa mágoa no meu peito. você sabe de onde vem. isso é desamor e não tem jeito. um amor quando desfeito. sempre faz alguém chorar. eu chorei. saudade tá doendo. e lá vem você querendo. outra vez me maltratar. um amor só é bom quando é pra dois. eterno é antes e depois. agora não vou mais me enganar. não quero mais. sofrer, não dá. se o teu desejo era me ver. se deu vontade de saber. se estou feliz. até posso dizer que sim.o teu reinado acabou,chegou ao fim. eu não nasci pra você,nem você pra mim. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;(Arlindo Cruz &amp;amp; Franco)&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/7880472432294913688-793389131732268356?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/793389131732268356/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=793389131732268356&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/793389131732268356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/793389131732268356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/maltratar-nao-e-direito.html' title='Maltratar, não é direito'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-919532453825955920</id><published>2010-02-03T16:04:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T16:05:44.858-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm"&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0cm;mso-padding-alt:0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Ah. Sei lá. Ando tranqüila. Em paz. Não vejo motivo para andar escrevendo. Aos poucos ando resolvendo coisas minhas. Estou recuperando o que chamam de inspiração. O acaso mais um dia se fez presente. E como o senhor segue meus passos, me colocou diante de duas pessoas. Uma me guia com fé. A outra está dando uma cota importante para o processo de recuperação desse nobre coração.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-919532453825955920?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/919532453825955920/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=919532453825955920&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/919532453825955920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/919532453825955920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/02/ah.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-6513758534526177077</id><published>2010-01-21T00:12:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T17:12:47.676-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Dale Carnegie, Oscar Wilde e Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;"Não é o que você tem, ou quem você é, ou onde você está, ou o que você está fazendo que o faz feliz ou infeliz. É o que você pensa sobre. Alguns causam felicidade onde quer que eles vão; outros sempre que se vão. Então ela foi ser feliz...&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/7880472432294913688-6513758534526177077?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/6513758534526177077/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=6513758534526177077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6513758534526177077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/6513758534526177077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/01/dale-carnegie-oscar-wilde-e-joy.html' title='Dale Carnegie, Oscar Wilde e Joy'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-3269014171782231020</id><published>2010-01-18T14:26:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T14:37:15.643-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S1ScLWjMX-I/AAAAAAAABps/Ts5RSi4F3aU/s1600-h/fechado-para-balanco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S1ScLWjMX-I/AAAAAAAABps/Ts5RSi4F3aU/s320/fechado-para-balanco.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428135169733976034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7880472432294913688-3269014171782231020?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/3269014171782231020/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=3269014171782231020&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3269014171782231020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/3269014171782231020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tzsx9ffKbu8/S1ScLWjMX-I/AAAAAAAABps/Ts5RSi4F3aU/s72-c/fechado-para-balanco.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7314400623748577998</id><published>2010-01-14T22:02:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T22:48:57.847-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Discreto</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Até que foi bem discreto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;deixando, ao partir, intenso muito do seu segredo. nem chegou a tempestade, esses excessos do vento. foi um corte pequeno, nem dor a mais, nem de menos. foi porque tinha que ir. foi porque tinha que ser. mas está aí a cicatriz. que não deixa mais mentir, se foi ou não foi feliz. &lt;i&gt;Alice Ruiz&lt;/i&gt;&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/7880472432294913688-7314400623748577998?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7314400623748577998/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7314400623748577998&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7314400623748577998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7314400623748577998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/01/discreto.html' title='Discreto'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-7294482085848796370</id><published>2010-01-13T13:45:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T13:51:37.777-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Razão de ser</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "&gt;Escrevo. E pronto. Escrevo porque preciso. preciso porque estou tonto. Ninguém tem nada com isso. Escrevo porque amanhece. E as estrelas lá no céu. Lembram letras no papel, Quando o poema me anoitece. A aranha tece teias. O peixe beija e morde o que vê. Eu escrevo apenas. Tem que ter por quê? &lt;i&gt;Paulo Leminski.&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/7880472432294913688-7294482085848796370?l=joycevieira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/feeds/7294482085848796370/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7880472432294913688&amp;postID=7294482085848796370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7294482085848796370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7880472432294913688/posts/default/7294482085848796370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joycevieira.blogspot.com/2010/01/razao-de-ser.html' title='Razão de ser'/><author><name>Joyce</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07766996398665096403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HnsoIdoKb2E/TwJnq8tb5tI/AAAAAAAAB7c/YnuijR17OJk/s220/375397_316688518351423_100000308329845_1033785_443852759_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7880472432294913688.post-9154569298740319613</id><published>2010-01-10T18:03:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T18:18:01.152-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tati Bernardi versus Millor Fernandes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;É isso. Não sei ser feliz com os finais que chegam. Mas sempre dou um jeito de me divertir quando sou eu que,apesar de tudo,chego até o fim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Mas não dá, nem de brincadeira, pra você ligar pro cara e dizer: ei, a vida é curta pra sofrer, volta,volta,volta. Quem nunca saiu com o cara errado que atire a primeira pedra! Mas atire nele, por favor.Você sabe que deixa apenas duas escolhas para as pessoas: te idolatrar ou sair correndo. Eu gosto das pessoas pelo prazer de gostar e não porque deu tempo de gostar delas. Aproveita a vida, irmão. Já passou mais tempo do que você pensa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;font-size:130%;color:#3E4415;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 16px;font-size:14px;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;font-size:130%;color:#3E4415;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 16px;font-size:14px;"&gt;
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