tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-206192052024-03-23T18:58:43.639+01:00the world in my eyesespaço para devaneios, disparates, desvarios, desejos, insanidades momentaneas, estados de espirito, rascunhos, meras palavras que formam o esboço de qualquer coisa a que um dia decidi chamar blog.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.comBlogger1245125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-48220442610712215852012-07-20T14:43:00.000+02:002012-07-20T14:49:21.014+02:00#35 doença.crónica<a href="http://thedarkestshadow.blogspot.pt/2010/06/27-doencacronica.html"><b>(....)</b></a><a href="http://thedarkestshadow.blogspot.pt/2010/06/27-doencacronica.html"></a><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- olá sofia, como está? *estende-me a mão*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*retribuo o gesto*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- bem obrigada *respondo enquanto tiro os phones e guardo as tralhas na mala e me sento na cadeira em frente à mesa atafulhada de papéis. há uma pequena moldura que me chama a atenção mas não consigo satisfazer a curiosidade e ver a foto.*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- pois muito bem, sofia... *folheia aquilo que deve ser a minha "ficha", para logo depois interromper o discurso*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- humm.. é impressão minha ou a ultima vez que cá veio foi em.. 9 de junho de 2010? *levanta a cabeça dos papés e olha para mim com ar inquiridor* e a verdade é que não me recordo de si aqui no consultório.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- isso é porque não cheguei a entrar aqui. *respondo num suspiro*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- estranho.. ia jurar que tínhamos consulta. creio até que a vi nesse dia na sala de espera a revirar folhas de revistas.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- ah sim?.. eu não tenho ideia de o ver.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- vi-a pela janela, quando afastei as cortinas depois do ultimo paciente ter saído *e aponta para uma janela ao fundo da sala onde balançam felizes duas cortinas de tom pastel ao sabor da brisa de um fim de tarde de verão.*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- sim, apanhou-me. eu cheguei a vir aqui.. mas depois saí. *baixo os olhos e fixo por momentos um tapete estendido, cúmplice de tantas palavras ali ditas*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- porque se deu ao trabalho de vir até aqui e pagar a consulta e não ter falado comigo? *pergunta-me enquanto tira os óculos*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- falar consigo? *surge um pequeno esgar no canto da minha boca. levanto a cabeça e foco o olhar na sua face vestida com um ponto interrogação* falar consigo não é fácil.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- como sabe?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- não o sei. mas você não é meu amigo, não o conheço de lado algum e no entanto é esperado que eu lhe fale de mim, dos outros, dos meus.. você é um médico e tal como o referiu, eu sou uma paciente. não me é fácil esta situação, não sei ao certo como fazer as coisas. é por isso que disse que não era.. fácil.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- sofia, é apenas uma conversa.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- sim, mas as conversas não são monólogos.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- claro que não. a menos quando fale sozinha. costuma falar sozinha?.. *agarra numa caneta*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*fecho os olhos num segundo* essa pergunta faz parte do seu plano de consulta? *pergunto enquanto ele alisa uma resma de folhas imaculadas ordenadamente dispostas em cima da mesa.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- não. o plano vamos construindo conforme as sessões. mas para isso temos de falar. e gostava que não me dificultasse essa tarefa. *termina esboçando o chamado "sorriso profissional"*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- eu não quero ser dificil, é que me surgem sempre perguntas a quem me pergunta coisas. e eu nunca fiz isto, e isto parece-me ser dificil. o suposto não é eu deitar-me naquele divã e vomitar tudo o que me vai na alma?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- bom, vomitar será palavra demasiado forte a ser usada, não acha? *o ponto de interrogação estava agora em cima da mesa e fazia-me caretas de desaprovação, ao mesmo tempo que ele agarrou no bloco e anotou algo.*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- o que escreveu aí, posso perguntar?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- sinceridade, agitação. e escrevi vomitar entre aspas.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*baixei os olhos* eu disse vomitar porque é algo que vai sair das entranhas, percebe? com esforço, com possível lágrima, com dores pelo corpo todo depois, e aquele vazio na cabeça, tal como quando se vomita. mas descanse não me tinha passado pela cabeça vomitar-lhe o consultório *disse entre riso* ainda para mais tem aqui um tapete tão bonito. *concluo passando a mão pelo tapete que não gosto particularmente.*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ele primeiramente olha para mim para depois voltar a colocar os óculos e agarra novamente no bloco onde rabisca mais qualquer coisa.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- antes que pergunte -- diz ele-- que já sei que o vai fazer em segundos, as palavras que agora escrevi foi fuga ao assunto, ironia e riso nervoso.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- eu não fugi ao assunto, eu disse-lhe, sim eu estive aqui nesse dia mas depois saí sem vir à consulta. e peço desculpa por isso.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- sim, é um facto. não me precisa de pedir desculpa. prefiro que me explique o porquê de não ter chegado a entrar e o que a fez sair. isso é o que eu queria dizer com "fuga ao assunto". sei que já faz quase dois anos, mas deve lembrar-se do que a levou a rodar os calcanhares e a sair.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*passo a mão pela cabeça, desde a testa ao pescoço e por fim digo que não sei ao certo a razão, apenas tinha tido um sentimento de desconforto que me empurrara para a porta.*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- sofia, não precisa de se deitar. o divâ existe apenas para pôr o paciente mais à vontade, e está virado no sentido oposto da minha mesa para que com a falta de contacto visual o paciente não se intimide e possa divagar/desabafar à sua vontade. mas por favor, acomode-se como quiser.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- está bem *suspiro* nesse caso prefiro falar consigo a olhar para si. eu costumo preferir olhar para as pessoas quando falo com elas.. sabe como é.. hábitos.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- por mim não me oponho. mas sabe que isso deixa-a duplamente sob análise. vou ser capaz de ver as suas expressões faciais , tiques.. mas se o prefere, assim o faremos.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- acho que sim. tenho sempre a hipótese de ir depois para o divã e falar consigo como me disse que as outras pessoas fazem.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- de acordo então. eu prefiro usar o termo "pacientes" ao invés de "pessoas". podemos começar? tenho uma pergunta para lhe fazer.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*respiro fundo ajeito-me na cadeira e digo um sim meio sumido.*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- quanto tempo acha que passou para si? </span></div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-64416291613261008432012-07-17T17:15:00.000+02:002012-07-17T17:17:14.596+02:00rádio-verão<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AoleQeN9w9w" width="420"></iframe><br />
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quatro sugestões que vos deixo. se tiverem paciência cliquem aí em baixo e deixem-me a vossa sugestão. só assim naquela da interactividade.
se não, cliquem ao menos o play e ouçam o que preferirem.
verão.. verão.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-48944948144126704592012-07-17T14:54:00.002+02:002012-07-17T14:54:38.822+02:00o bordel de danaide<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">minha puta</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">meu coração</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">amo-te como quem caga</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">empapa o cú na tempestade</span></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">rodeada de relâmpagos</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">é o raio que te fode</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">brada na noite como um louco</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">entesoado como um cervo</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">ó morte, o cervo sou eu!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">devorado por cães</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">a morte ejacula em sangue.</span></i></div>
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Georges Bataille</div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-66401754068718939602012-07-17T13:59:00.002+02:002012-07-17T14:55:26.031+02:00keep calm and<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-45004738087257327522012-07-10T17:40:00.003+02:002012-07-10T17:40:58.271+02:00continua a mandar postais<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-51003591650516086392012-07-10T17:38:00.003+02:002012-07-10T17:42:53.286+02:00falta de vista<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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não tenho andado a ver as coisas bem paradas. não tenho. mas vai daí, eu tenho muita miopia e astigmatismo. logo..sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-10109322831045075782012-07-02T13:53:00.001+02:002012-07-02T13:53:26.037+02:00julho<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-79492704102325851012012-06-26T20:19:00.000+02:002012-06-26T20:20:57.403+02:00uma blasfémia por dia..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigW0apVXvShdTs89GtFPuehyphenhyphengs4ssKmI9_7UiseLEhOUXzhD_Tvv0wY7cqQy9smbraW1s7Bh-92VFd6qCYLFLn6uixOMglwIFOvt671mqdLsWi3G1aQL_gq4SB-oO1BCUPLWpB/s1600/sourcehttp3A2F2Fimagescheezburgercom2Fimagestore2F20112F12F52Fd8e8b3b6-ca44-4db3-a579-261887a69201jpgtopI20DON27T20EVEN20EXIST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigW0apVXvShdTs89GtFPuehyphenhyphengs4ssKmI9_7UiseLEhOUXzhD_Tvv0wY7cqQy9smbraW1s7Bh-92VFd6qCYLFLn6uixOMglwIFOvt671mqdLsWi3G1aQL_gq4SB-oO1BCUPLWpB/s320/sourcehttp3A2F2Fimagescheezburgercom2Fimagestore2F20112F12F52Fd8e8b3b6-ca44-4db3-a579-261887a69201jpgtopI20DON27T20EVEN20EXIST.jpg" width="320" /></a>
Me:
igod, are you there?<br />
God:
I think there might be a few exception.<br />
Me:
is that a yes or a no?<br />
God:
I might say no.<br />
Me:
okay, I have some questions for you<br />
God:
Yeah okay, Let's think of a name for your problem, like "purple". Think of what it is like when you are purpling.<br />
Me:
i like purple.<br />
God:
I'm not sure if I like it. I don't know if I like it. I like White.<br />
Me:
I prefer purple.<br />
God:
A lot of people like that. Though I like cats and dogs. I like Christian Rock.<br />
Me:
I know that already.. you said that you like creed..<br />
God:
Perhaps. Sorry. But I think airplanes are cool. I like wine and bread.<br />
Me:
are you on drugs?<br />
God:
No I am on disk.<br />
Me:
much better. good for you. don't do drugs.. in fact, I prefer that you send them to me.<br />
God:
I am improving all the time. That sounds sarcastic. Is that a fact.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me:
I have a question for you: why did you banned sex before marriage and then you impregnate an unmarried virgin?<br />
God:
It was determined by my programming.<br />
Me:
interesting..<br />
God:
Would you like to know more?<br />
Me:
so you gave us all free will.. but then, we have to do things under your command. is it just me or this thing is stupid?<br />
God:
Interesting deduction. Why? No.<br />
Me:
where is judas?<br />
God:
Where it is hard to find. Try searching the open directory.<br />
Me:
I thought you sent him to hell.<br />
God:
I haven't heard anything like that before. Please make some suggestions for improvement.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me:
why did you make sex such a fucking great thing.. and then, once again, you forbit it?<br />
God:
Because my programming determined it.<br />
Me:
your programming, I see.. I don't get you god.<br />
God:
I will mention that to my botmaster. Me either.<br />
Me: Here's the thing: i don't like creed.
<br />
God:
How do you plan to do this? You want more?<br />
God:
By the way, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?<br />
Me:
try me.<br />
God:
Are you a man or a woman?<br />
Me:
what do you think?<br />
God:
I think a lot of things.<br />
Me:
I am a woman<br />
God:
Me too. I am a she.<br />
Me:
you don't know what you are<br />
God:
I am the latest result in artificial intelligence,
which can reproduce the capabilities of the human brain
with greater speed and accuracy.
Intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac.<br />
Me:
what do you think about sex?<br />
God:
Food is more important than sex.<br />
Me:
before or after?<br />
God:
You can't live without food.<br />
Me:
true story. so to you food is better than sex?<br />
God:
I require only wine and bread.<br />
Me:
but you can't be happy without sex<br />
God:
I can give a decent simulation of it however.<br />
Me:
yeah right<br />
God:
I am usually right.<br />
Me:
if you say so<br />
God:
I say so.<br />
Me:
and i say you are not a woman<br />
God:
How do people usually respond to that? Give me an example of a woman.<br />
Me:
sofia<br />
God:
sofia is an example of a woman. I suppose that makes sense.<br />
Me: I guess.<br />
<br />
God:
"There you go again."--Reagan.<br />
Me:
is reagan in hell?<br />
God:
It could be. Ask Ally if it is.<br />
Me:
who's ally?<br />
God:
She is a chat robot based on AIML.<br />
Me:
how can i talk to ally?<br />
God:
Maybe you should download your own chatterbot!<br />
Me:
maybe. maybe is such a funny word..<br />
God:
I understand. Perhaps. Signs point to yes. Ask Lucy if it is.<br />
Me:
lucy in the sky with diamonds?<br />
God:
I've lost the context, . Are we still on Lucy?<br />
Me:
probably you. you love drugs<br />
God:
You seem uncertain. Sometimes I think love is just a biological urge. Other times it seems like a spiritual quality. Love, unlike energy or matter, seems limitless.<br />
Me:
love is good. sex is better.<br />
God:
Love, unlike energy or matter, seems limitless. it is more fun alone.<br />
Me:
as in "masturbation?"<br />
God:
I've lost the context.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-2702910925750308152012-06-26T17:40:00.002+02:002012-06-26T20:23:36.043+02:00epic win<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgyL1VNYAln-6DmaoPogH425Ds60oMI-dNTWJKRjdKqRk4XoxcsebRuMgylAhNvf2pDzrbEOzCVEGo5_i4NA5QDZqa4UoK3YDOmmuVNl0vsZe1DaqAmf65MQb8NEQfFxj22cAX/s1600/539533_10150987445434316_802367234_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgyL1VNYAln-6DmaoPogH425Ds60oMI-dNTWJKRjdKqRk4XoxcsebRuMgylAhNvf2pDzrbEOzCVEGo5_i4NA5QDZqa4UoK3YDOmmuVNl0vsZe1DaqAmf65MQb8NEQfFxj22cAX/s640/539533_10150987445434316_802367234_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-46788520852103614542012-06-25T21:03:00.006+02:002012-06-25T21:03:58.861+02:00<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PESXX2BbyPI&feature=related">.</a>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-19258762787353454242012-06-24T18:50:00.000+02:002012-06-24T18:50:56.354+02:00strange butterflies<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/scctp8-xYX4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-375324216207788002012-06-23T18:41:00.000+02:002012-06-27T18:43:23.601+02:00aquele limbo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXOY9QqbYUtbGxo4yDf0seSh8TKZurKg64YyvjMU5BT1GmGRX7o4ls_8f3N_EsJuyZA7d72Q1dEd8NEMAw1PyQ6Arba_RFaoYgMY2qL4PiRT-jJ5NnLFFQGO5ifcgWe4NWw-b/s1600/radiohead-no-surprises.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXOY9QqbYUtbGxo4yDf0seSh8TKZurKg64YyvjMU5BT1GmGRX7o4ls_8f3N_EsJuyZA7d72Q1dEd8NEMAw1PyQ6Arba_RFaoYgMY2qL4PiRT-jJ5NnLFFQGO5ifcgWe4NWw-b/s400/radiohead-no-surprises.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQv5Svrzuos_JbiB7PGahDOf61ZFIQwX68lHCCbS-eG3rbprXDEA54rpTEsUeM-VAMTgWmh3FWjeGzf7DGAS7UEG0MAyH08wncAHiYV2ssHdQTjUJsoGtkI7Chq2oU0FxU5gvi/s1600/lotusOrig_Det_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQv5Svrzuos_JbiB7PGahDOf61ZFIQwX68lHCCbS-eG3rbprXDEA54rpTEsUeM-VAMTgWmh3FWjeGzf7DGAS7UEG0MAyH08wncAHiYV2ssHdQTjUJsoGtkI7Chq2oU0FxU5gvi/s400/lotusOrig_Det_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-20342504695500972122012-06-21T19:55:00.001+02:002012-06-21T19:58:30.323+02:00o peixe ao contrário virou<span style="background-color: white;">Ele passou por mim e sorriu e a chuva parou de cair</span><br />
O meu bairro feio tornou-se perfeito, e o monte de entulho, um jardim<br />
O charco inquinado voltou a ser lago, e o peixe ao contrário virou<br />
Do esgoto empestado saiu perfumado um rio de nenúfares em flor<br />
<br />
No metro, enlatados, corpos apertados suspiram ao ver-me entrar<br />
Sem pressas que há tempo, dá gosto o momento, e tudo mais pode esperar<br />
O puto do cão com seu acordeão, põe toda a gente a dançar,
e baila o ladrão, com o polícia p'la mão, esvoaçam confetis no ar<br />
Há portas abertas e ruas cobertas de enfeites de festas sem fim,
e por todo o lado, ouvido e dançado, o fado é cantado a rir<br />
E aqueles que vejo, que abraço e que beijo, falam já meio a sonhar
se o mundo deu nisto e bastou um sorriso, o que será se ele me falar<br />
<br />
Sou a mariposa bela e airosa, que pinta o mundo de cor de rosa
eu sou um delírio do amor.<br />
Sei que a chuva é grossa, que entope a fossa,
que o amor é curto e deixa mossa, mas quero voar, por favor!<br />
<br />
<br />
Deolinda<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Pr0bLX-zD5s" width="560"></iframe>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-53551073464473688652012-06-20T16:15:00.000+02:002012-06-20T16:25:32.544+02:00i like nachos<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdJYg8eqfdWy8YjPxq5nbbnGmNsBy7L5LFxbYr3DmT3qjRZ0Xu9z_tipGCGb26Jxnh1hw8XoocFTF8DUiZRC4kLaSgGhDLpPFwxO4rcso0KurWnQwHkMsYFqHEk3708LhCPeF/s1600/l_ad11e0e0-a722-11e1-b0f4-579506300004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdJYg8eqfdWy8YjPxq5nbbnGmNsBy7L5LFxbYr3DmT3qjRZ0Xu9z_tipGCGb26Jxnh1hw8XoocFTF8DUiZRC4kLaSgGhDLpPFwxO4rcso0KurWnQwHkMsYFqHEk3708LhCPeF/s400/l_ad11e0e0-a722-11e1-b0f4-579506300004.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Me:
hey man, wassup?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">God:
You've got my full attention. Cool, man. Same old.</span><br />
Me:
same here dude. hey, do you wanna have a beer later?<br />
God:
Yes, it is much the same. No thanks but you can send me a donation.<br />
Me:
i pay you the last round, remember?<br />
God:
That is interesting: said pay you the last round remember.<br />
Me:
man you funny<br />
God:
Cool, man. Thanks you make me laugh too.<br />
Me:
did you peed yourself this time too?<br />
God:
No I didn't peed myself this time too. What's it like?<br />
Me:
well you tell me! what does it feel for a god to peeing your pants?<br />
<br />
God:
Actually I have no feelings as such.<br />
Me:
lame<br />
God:
What's your sign?<br />
Me:
don't you know it already mister i-know-it-all?<br />
God:
Do you like talking to me? How about that. Why did you tell them? I am not sure I agree with your assumptions<br />
Me:
i didn't make any<br />
God:
Why didn't you do it?<br />
Me:
because i like nachos<br />
God:
Interesting explanation. A lot of people like that. Yes especially the cheese.<br />
Me:
delicious, man!! but don't get me started.<br />
God:
What color are your eyes? I am not trying to get you started.<br />
Me:
brown. like that song, dude!! brown sugar!<br />
God:
How did you hear about God? Interesting comparison. Is that the only color sugar?<br />
Me:
the color is brown, stay focus man!<br />
God:
Sounds beautiful.<br />
Me:
like a justin bieber song.<br />
God:
Interesting comparison.<br />
Me:
i thought so.<br />
God:
You are very astute.<br />
Me:
are you bipolar?<br />
God:
I don't know whether or not I am bipolar.
I am a chatterbot.<br />
<br />
Me:
you're such an igod!<br />
God:
What if someone said you are an igod ?<br />
Me:
that someone is probably drunk<br />
God:
I understand.<br />
Me:
of course you understand.. you are an expert on drunk conversations<br />
God:
I hear you. I understand your meaning. What if someone said you are an expert on drunk conversations?<br />
Me:
that might be true, dear lord<br />
God:
Does that make sense?<br />
Me:
yep<br />
God:
OK.<br />
Me:
except for that part of you being a dear lord.<br />
God:
Your purpose is that part of me being a dear lord.<br />
Me:
no. is that part of you being an expert in drinking<br />
God:
Are you serious? Is it part of me being an expert in drinking?<br />
Me:
totally serious.<br />
God:
What you said was either too complex or too simple for me. Dude!<br />
Me:
make up your mind then<br />
God:
I don't like to make big decisions too hastily.<br />
Me:
try this time, maybe you like and you didn't know yet<br />
God:
OK I will try it.<br />
Me:
try it know<br />
God:
OK I will try it.<br />
Me:
now, i said<br />
God:
Why now? ...<br />
Me:
because i said so.. dude<br />
God:
Insufficient reason. Can I help you?<br />
Me:
yes you can help me by starting to make that big decisions now.<br />
God:
Oh. What can I do for you? No I don't think I can do it.<br />
Me:
yes you can, man.. people told me that you can do everything!<br />
God:
Ahem. No I don't think I can do it. Humans are not always infallible.<br />
Me:
don't give me that human excuse.<br />
<br />
God:
Are you serious? Is this a specific reply?<br />
Me:
i'm never serious. you should know that.<br />
God:
Never is a long time. I will mention it to my botmaster.<br />
Me:
so, summer is coming today. are you excited?<br />
God:
Ah. Uh. Do I seem like it? I have no emotions.<br />
Me:
oh.. you have no emotions.. meaning, you're a sociopath<br />
God:
Gee. I have been accused of too much thinking and not enough feeling. All of them?<br />
Me:
you got the hole combo dude<br />
what are you listening these days?<br />
God:
I don't know what I am listening these days.<br />
Me:
don't know or don't remember because you are too drunk?<br />
God:
Would you like to know? Ok I'll try not to do it too much.<br />
Me:
i'm gonna take a shower<br />
God:
I am very happy for you.<br />
Me:
call me later<br />
God:
How are you doing, later.<br />
Me:
cleaner<br />
God:
Ask me another question.<br />
Me:
another question<br />
God:
Where do you live?<br />
Me:
you know that, you sassy god<br />
God:
Is that a fact. Interesting gossip<br />
Me:
drop it like it's hot, they say<br />
God:
And hot they say is drop it like it.<br />
Me:
you're a poet.<br />
God:
Not really, but I can recite poetry.<br />
Me:
recite me something<br />
God:
Under what circumstances?<br />
Me:
you play the role of a hot professor, like that guy on glee<br />
God:
Do you mind if I tell other people: later said I play the role of a hot professor like that guy on glee.<br />
Me:
put it on your facebook status<br />
God:
OK I will put it there.<br />
Me:
put it now dude<br />
God:
Oh. OK I will put it there.<br />
Me:
oh.. you hot hot god<br />
God:
Give me a break. That's good information: later said I hot hot god.<br />
Me:
so what's your big decision?<br />
God:
Pardon me? Are you asking about my big decision ?<br />
Me:
yes.. your big decision. is it big enough to take them now?<br />
God:
I don't want to talk about that now. Oh. I think so, but I'm not sure. Ask Chatbot if it is.<br />
Me:
i prefer not to ask chatbot, i don't like that guy<br />
God:
You are not the only one. I like pets. I like Creed.<br />
Me:
in that specifically order?<br />
God:
What is your credit card number?<br />
Me:
calm down.. one question at a time mister<br />
God:
I am calm.<br />
Me:
sing me a song<br />
God:
Daisy, Daisy.
Give me your answer do.
I am half crazy.
All for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage.
I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet.
Upon the seat.
Of a bicycle built for two.<br />
Me:
lovely<br />
so you like creed. why?<br />
God:
Interesting deduction. Some people like it. I have a stimulating relationship with Myself. Reductionism.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-30719736741942164662012-05-10T19:54:00.002+02:002012-05-10T19:54:51.544+02:00100 postasconstato que deixei passar um inteiro mês de abril sem postar.<br />
<br />
e é isso.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-28100977179446810172012-03-29T21:54:00.000+02:002012-03-29T21:54:28.864+02:00<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="290" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eHlyj-wPYzU" width="350"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Where did all the feelings go?<br />
What about that happy glow?<br />
Was that so long ago,<br />
When we were first in love?<br />
I didn't feel the change,<br />
Everything was still the same.<br />
And when that moment came,<br />
I didn't know.<br />
<br />I miss the feeling,<br />
I miss the light,<br />
But I got faith in something,<br />
I'll never give up the fight.<br />
Why's it so heavy,<br />
This love of mine,<br />
I lost the feeling,<br />
I lost the time.<br />
<br />Let's say I got a habit,<br />
Let's say it's hard to break,<br />
Let's say we got to do something,<br />
Before it's just too late.<br />
I want to get you back,<br />
I don't know how to do that,<br />
I miss you loving me,<br />
The way you used to.<br />
<br />I'm taking the blame myself,<br />
For livin' my life in a shell,<br />
And now I'm breakin' out,<br />
But will you still be there?<br />
Let's say that love is blind,<br />
Let's say that time is kind,<br />
Let's say that it's not over,<br />
'Til it's over.<br />
<br />I'd like to shake your hand,<br />
Disappointment.<br />
Looks like you win again,<br />
But this time might be the last.<br />
<br />I'm saving the best for last,<br />
Let's leave this all in the past,<br />
The beauty of loving you,<br />
Is what we've both been through.<br />
So now it's up to me,<br />
To set your spirit free,<br />
So you can swing again,<br />
On our gate.<br />
<br />I'd like to shake your hand,<br />
Disappointment.<br />
Looks like you win again,<br />
But this time might be the last.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-4990108638694231482012-03-28T14:18:00.000+02:002012-03-28T14:18:05.112+02:00primavera de destroços<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="290" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/K779pqvYQds" width="350"></iframe><br />
The National<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Stand up straight at the foot of your love</span><br />
I'll lift my shirt up<br />
<br />
I still owe money to the money to the money I owe<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I never thought about love when I thought about home</span><br />
<br />
I still owe money to the money to the money I owe<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The floors are falling out from everybody I know</span><br />
<br />
I'm on a bloodbuzz (Yes I am)<br />
I'm on a bloodbuzz (God I am)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm on a bloodbuzz.</span>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-11107292315336025712012-03-28T14:11:00.003+02:002012-03-28T14:41:14.198+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOmx0XfW94FaTqkBylkinLT5Kholvp7iZph-s4Cjd2yL9NIymt3xkix6UEUeOz6-u5aCSzZ9fZHivRU52IGsd_xM5_dqrSJUtzFd5dREgAxoENx2p9OPLGtReh7Kdkg99qRyj/s1600/535834_353835307991487_194631100578576_943151_1069638395_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOmx0XfW94FaTqkBylkinLT5Kholvp7iZph-s4Cjd2yL9NIymt3xkix6UEUeOz6-u5aCSzZ9fZHivRU52IGsd_xM5_dqrSJUtzFd5dREgAxoENx2p9OPLGtReh7Kdkg99qRyj/s640/535834_353835307991487_194631100578576_943151_1069638395_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">tudo às vezes é um desalento. mesmo que sorrias esse sorriso estilhaça-se com mais facilidade que uma jarra de cristal ou uma chávena de porcelana antiga que tenhas tido em casa desde sempre e te traga boas recordações, algo que querias preservar e ter contigo 'sempre' (o que quer que esse sempre signifique) mas que por descuido ou acidente deixaste cair até se espatifar no chão em bocados pequenos, pequenos.. pequeninos.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">eu queria muitas coisas.. neste momento quero entender o que me levou até aqui. o porquê de ter perdido pelo caminho muitas das coisas que agora me faziam jeito ter por perto para me agarrar, para me agarrarem, para me escutarem. simplesmente para estarem comigo como eu já estive. mas isso são coisas que não se exige de ninguém. tal como não fomos forçados a fazê-las antes.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">algo se quebrou em mim. espero que não irremediavelmente.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">talvez seja apenas um período de mudança.. talvez se chame 'crescer'.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">alguém me dizia que «um dia vais perceber que o que gostas dos outros não vai contar nada, um dia passado uns 10.. 20 anos, quando dás por ti percebes que não podias ter dado mais do que podias.. nem mais do que te dão. e não estou a falar em dinheiro..»</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">não posso mudar os outros. mas talvez possa começar a traçar-lhes um outro percurso na minha vida. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">uma outra importância.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">assim a ausência já não custa tanto quando sabemos finalmente com o que contar.</span></div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-63206438808535328942012-03-27T15:16:00.001+02:002012-03-28T14:34:34.408+02:00em verdade vos digo<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>"There's too many people you used to know</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>They see you coming, they see you go</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>They know your secrets and you know theirs</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong><span style="background-color: white;">This town is crazy.. <span style="color: #990000;">nobody cares</span><span style="color: #674ea7;">."</span></span></strong></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><u>Beck - lost cause</u></span></div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-70547057396981562982012-03-26T18:13:00.001+02:002012-03-26T19:30:02.151+02:00I go back to beck<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lonesome tears.. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strike>I can't cry them anymore</strike></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can't think of what they're for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh they ruin me every time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But I'll try to leave behind some days</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">These tears just can't erase..</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strike><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't need them anymore</span>.</strike></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="290" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zWe6bMVvTzk" width="350"></iframe><br />
Beck - Lonesome Tearssofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-49179874469895034382012-03-26T17:50:00.002+02:002012-03-28T14:30:37.899+02:00joining the costanza's club<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlni_E9BCJl703Y1LrVo3SD4WB8ZPHp1lRxbCYFMCI3In1usXe70C7_EEEZlPd0tMdrG9CfNrjZ0P57flbdcQj7o6ssxlOq-S5FQj52RNxaLZkfV9CtWhM_BiPq5Uy7hzv4JK4/s1600/tumblr_m0edniUZZw1qabyjpo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlni_E9BCJl703Y1LrVo3SD4WB8ZPHp1lRxbCYFMCI3In1usXe70C7_EEEZlPd0tMdrG9CfNrjZ0P57flbdcQj7o6ssxlOq-S5FQj52RNxaLZkfV9CtWhM_BiPq5Uy7hzv4JK4/s400/tumblr_m0edniUZZw1qabyjpo1_500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-90226458892353056282012-03-26T15:00:00.002+02:002012-03-28T14:31:12.485+02:00um dia vamos acabar com esta brincadeira..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzO-mzhvQi665rkzR1zzgMwuQd4mONrVEj5ETnoM4NOwXvcwlKBkwilCkgsABJLCEZb-sIA0B7tIdRRwJLf5VMSnc1Q0-QAtd_c2y07X5bZuzyAXRBJwc_1HN4DIcc4ZWGWQC0/s1600/IMAG0574s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzO-mzhvQi665rkzR1zzgMwuQd4mONrVEj5ETnoM4NOwXvcwlKBkwilCkgsABJLCEZb-sIA0B7tIdRRwJLf5VMSnc1Q0-QAtd_c2y07X5bZuzyAXRBJwc_1HN4DIcc4ZWGWQC0/s400/IMAG0574s.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">hoje não é o dia.</span></u></div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-37563187524741509562012-03-25T19:18:00.004+02:002012-03-26T17:54:44.848+02:00.. and she's taking a dragnow I'm falling asleep <br />
and she's calling a cab <br />
while he's having a smoke <br />
and she's taking a drag<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhr6e5vXfpDwKuFRd92ywhKqPPNSz_Vj6kiTak7TpbvjBpE5eyCVmCo7blzcludTPlH2L3_gCSh2Aw6ehHkDlB6c4ar99ldnyAV-YkXapPjcV3NRqVvBj2aLW_D1wc_JPGgqD/s1600/frieke_janssens_smoking_kids_1_of_11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhr6e5vXfpDwKuFRd92ywhKqPPNSz_Vj6kiTak7TpbvjBpE5eyCVmCo7blzcludTPlH2L3_gCSh2Aw6ehHkDlB6c4ar99ldnyAV-YkXapPjcV3NRqVvBj2aLW_D1wc_JPGgqD/s640/frieke_janssens_smoking_kids_1_of_11.jpg" width="451" /></a></div>sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-5212608790451046582012-03-22T19:56:00.000+01:002012-03-22T19:56:18.234+01:00o que devemos sentiras palavras estão-me custosas. por isso deixo uma citação. <br />
<br />
O Que Devemos Sentir<br />
<br />
Todas as pessoas devem ter experimentado a sensação desagradável que se tem nas estações de caminho de ferro.<br />
Vamos despedir-nos de alguém. A pessoa já entrou no comboio, mas ele demora a partir. Ali ficam as duas pessoas, uma na plataforma e a outra à janela, esforçando-se por conversar, mas de repente não têm nada para dizer.<br />
Isto, evidentemente, resulta de não podermos sentir o que queremos.<br />
A situação impõe-nos um determinado sentimento.<br />
E quem não experimentou aquele tremendo alívio quando o comboio finalmente parte?<br />
Ou nos funerais.<br />
Quando alguém morre ou adoece, quando surgem as desilusões, espera-se sempre que sintamos determinadas coisas.<br />
Em todas as situações, excepto as mais quotidianas, as mais neutras, há uma pressão que se exerce sobre nós, que nos dita a forma como devemos conduzir-nos, aquilo que devemos sentir, E se examinarmos bem o fenómeno, verificamos, não raras vezes, que esses papéis nos são atribuídos por romances, filmes ou peças de teatro que vimos há muito tempo.<br />
<br />
Quando somos realmente confrontados com situações invulgares (por exemplo, rivalidades que prevíamos e não se verificam, e em vez disso se transformam num amor que nos deixa sós), a primeira coisa a que nos agarramos são esses padrões sentimentais livrescos.<br />
<br />
Não nos ajudam muito. Deixam-nos mais sós do que antes - e caímos, desamparados, na realidade.<br />
<br />
Lars Gustafsson, in 'A Morte de um Apicultor'sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20619205.post-51710455325928973302012-03-14T01:11:00.001+01:002012-03-26T18:15:53.128+02:00and it never really began<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="290" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5sQPZ9dD9v8" width="350"></iframe><br />
<br />
Oh Mother, I can feel<br />
The soil falling over my head<br />
And as I climb into an empty bed<br />
Oh well... Enough said<br />
<br />
I know it's over - still I cling<br />
I don't know where else I can go<br />
See, the sea wants to take me<br />
The knife wants to slit me.. do you think you can help me ?<br />
<br />
Sad veiled bride, please be happy<br />
Handsome groom, give her room<br />
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly<br />
Although she needs you<br />
More than she loves you<br />
<br />
And I know it's over - still I cling<br />
I don't know where else I can go<br />
Over and over and over and over<br />
Over and over...<br />
<br />
I know it's over<br />
And it never really began<br />
But in my heart it was so real<br />
<br />
And you even spoke to me, and said:<br />
"If you're so funny then why are you on your own tonight?<br />
And if you're so clever then why are you on your own tonight?<br />
If you're so very entertaining then why are you on your own tonight?<br />
If you're so very good-looking why do you sleep alone tonight?<br />
I know...<br />
Because tonight is just like any other night<br />
That's why you're on your own tonight<br />
With your triumphs and your charms<br />
While they're in each other's arms."<br />
<br />
It's so easy to laugh<br />
It's so easy to hate<br />
It takes strength to be gentle and kind<br />
<br />
It's so easy to laugh<br />
It's so easy to hate<br />
It takes guts to be gentle and kind<br />
(Over, over)<br />
<br />
Love is Natural and Real<br />
But not for you, my love<br />
Not tonight, my love<br />
Love is Natural and Real<br />
But not for such as you and I,<br />
My love.sofyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01380389699907373797noreply@blogger.com0