tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38071959300076342962011-07-30T22:01:58.157-03:00Each man kills the thing he loves...rodajokehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01181399161114268721noreply@blogger.comBlogger31100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807195930007634296.post-23577166620282536222009-01-25T18:01:00.002-02:002009-01-25T18:09:20.684-02:00<div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9BHEdvI3uf0/SXzG0VK1q1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/gNKVLA2hwMw/s1600-h/verao.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295325864218962770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9BHEdvI3uf0/SXzG0VK1q1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/gNKVLA2hwMw/s320/verao.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">Quando o tempo mudou, eu acordei diferente.<br />Tinha calor em cada coisa.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3807195930007634296-2357716662028253622?l=rodajoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rodajokehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01181399161114268721noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807195930007634296.post-25191668944551411652008-10-23T11:22:00.016-02:002008-10-25T11:17:16.674-02:00<em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260345499769052050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9BHEdvI3uf0/SQCAXI2PG5I/AAAAAAAAAEY/C7yIneJGo8A/s320/burning+man.jpg" border="0" /></em><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em>Hi there!<br /></em></span><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em>The memory of my world with you inspired me to overcome sad and monotone moments in other worlds. I hope this book inspires you to know other worlds. </em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><em>...</em></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></div></span></em><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em>In the distance, the worlds become good or bad, easily. We need the fragmentation of the proximity to make a world-object more confused and fascinating. I hope the fragment represented in this book inspires you to know this world which so many people have resistance. </em></span></div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><div><em></em></div><div><em>...<br /></em></span></div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em>I hope this book makes you remember me, in a few years, when you will look to your extensive library and the stories that it tells.<br /></em></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em>With love, </em></span></div><div><em></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3807195930007634296-2519166894455141165?l=rodajoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rodajokehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01181399161114268721noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807195930007634296.post-58473579574160643672008-07-27T16:38:00.005-03:002009-07-24T20:47:44.445-03:00<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Ele faleceu durante uma viagem ao Oriente. Ela casou-se seis anos depois e não foi feliz. Descobriu que fantasias são mais bonitas que a realidade, prendeu-se em seu maior sonho: o último romance. E jamais conseguiu desvencilhar-se da idéia romântica de viver um amor transcendental.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Todo fim de tarde admira os livros de sua extensa biblioteca, folhea algumas dedicatórias e chora de saudade pelos momentos que só existiram em uma daquelas diversas estantes. Todas as outras foram fantasias e como tudo nesse mundo, morreram com o tempo.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3807195930007634296-5847357957416064367?l=rodajoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rodajokehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01181399161114268721noreply@blogger.com3