tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355108052011-04-21T20:06:53.256+01:00Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.comBlogger561100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-64678027478606843242009-05-03T12:14:00.001+01:002009-05-03T12:23:42.820+01:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Sf1-aaDYosI/AAAAAAAAAIc/xeB6CJecN0Y/s1600-h/100_5348.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331556526011753154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 142px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Sf1-aaDYosI/AAAAAAAAAIc/xeB6CJecN0Y/s320/100_5348.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Para o Valério.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Pelo Dom de Deus...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </p><p><span style="font-size:78%;">E porque me deixou incrivelmente feliz... Obrigada...*</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-6467802747860684324?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-89239672448650702792009-02-10T10:23:00.002Z2009-02-10T10:37:09.695Z<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SZFYS4694rI/AAAAAAAAAIE/NHGthy1SGvo/s1600-h/100_4356.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301115317932384946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SZFYS4694rI/AAAAAAAAAIE/NHGthy1SGvo/s320/100_4356.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">O carrossel em movimento, de novo... </span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Uma velocidade estonteante, a música de sempre.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Desta vez, porém, não sei onde irá (ei) parar...</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-8923967244865070279?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-71147469768122268512008-11-25T20:51:00.002Z2008-11-25T21:04:28.373Z<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SSxlfdcFJ_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/VKGNApJgsxg/s1600-h/100_4496.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272700854896764914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SSxlfdcFJ_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/VKGNApJgsxg/s320/100_4496.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Os rostos e as máscaras...o esconder amedrontado da indefinição, da insegurança...o refúgio seguro, sempre certo...</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Destruir todas as máscaras, ver todos os rostos, todas as verdades disfarçadas, atravessar todos os labirintos, todas as brumas...o desvanecer ansioso de tudo aquilo que, apenas, parece...</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">A verdade, o rosto real, o coração que bate de verdade...a música do mundo, e o bater do coração, as horas de completo abandono ao sonho... os sentidos e os sentimentos...a face misteriosa de todas as coisas...o brilho dos olhos, que a máscara não consegue ocultar...</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Deus...que sonda e que conhece todos os rostos e corações...do outro lado de todas as máscaras, do outro lado de todos os espelhos.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-7114746976812226851?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-15591018870935684862008-09-23T00:40:00.000+01:002008-09-23T00:42:37.296+01:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNgtMoq_5nI/AAAAAAAAAFU/eejWVJjquDw/s1600-h/100_3231.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248995060799759986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNgtMoq_5nI/AAAAAAAAAFU/eejWVJjquDw/s320/100_3231.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">...Unsicherheit...</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1559101887093568486?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-58170513118385832962008-09-21T23:54:00.002+01:002008-09-22T00:01:33.338+01:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNbRqOWIU-I/AAAAAAAAAFM/VWvF4SKzewU/s1600-h/100_3306.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248612939082519522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNbRqOWIU-I/AAAAAAAAAFM/VWvF4SKzewU/s320/100_3306.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">"...por isso amo as paisagens impossíveis e as grandes áreas desertas dos plainos onde nunca estarei. As épocas históricas passadas são de pura maravilha, pois desde logo não posso supor que se realizarão comigo. Durmo quando sonho o que não há; vou despertar quando sonho o que pode haver"...</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">in <em>Livro do Desassossego</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-5817051311838583296?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-59461984593105969522008-09-20T23:52:00.001+01:002008-09-21T00:01:17.551+01:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNV_-F3tx2I/AAAAAAAAAFE/-8SHGl6knSM/s1600-h/100_3764.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248241645474662242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNV_-F3tx2I/AAAAAAAAAFE/-8SHGl6knSM/s320/100_3764.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">"...ou serão maus os teus olhos porque eu sou bom?..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Mt 20, 1-16</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-5946198459310596952?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-12113198295847827062008-09-19T00:36:00.003+01:002008-09-19T23:57:44.628+01:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNQtKrMuIiI/AAAAAAAAAE8/f_HToVW9dTY/s1600-h/100_3578.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247869127211491874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNQtKrMuIiI/AAAAAAAAAE8/f_HToVW9dTY/s320/100_3578.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">As cidades acesas, e as cidades apagadas. Como os corações.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">A segurança valiosíssima, doce, confortável e [quase] sempre certa do dia; o fascínio incontornável, inevitável dos luzeiros - nas cidades e nos corações.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1211319829584782706?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-38810757607342950582008-09-19T00:36:00.002+01:002008-09-19T00:42:50.343+01:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNLmyySHpjI/AAAAAAAAAE0/oUP3lGpJQrg/s1600-h/InterRail+126.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247510276005668402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNLmyySHpjI/AAAAAAAAAE0/oUP3lGpJQrg/s320/InterRail+126.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">"...e aí me dá uma tristeza</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">no meu peito</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">feito um despeito</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">de eu não ter como lutar..."<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-3881075760734295058?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-11581981004271115762008-09-17T22:49:00.001+01:002008-09-17T22:55:39.270+01:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNF8PHRkVVI/AAAAAAAAAEs/-hzKRV0giDQ/s1600-h/100_3324.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247111639955952978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNF8PHRkVVI/AAAAAAAAAEs/-hzKRV0giDQ/s320/100_3324.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> "...Sabe Dios qué angustia</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">te acompañó,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">qué dolores viejos</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">calló tu voz</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">para recostarte</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">arrullada en el canto</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">de las caracolas marinas..."<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1158198100427111576?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-28736834024684494062008-09-17T00:44:00.002+01:002008-09-17T00:49:07.716+01:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNBFLkX2JQI/AAAAAAAAAEk/DcWszOTDVGM/s1600-h/100_4509.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246769630931199234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SNBFLkX2JQI/AAAAAAAAAEk/DcWszOTDVGM/s320/100_4509.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">"<em>Solo le pido a Dios</em></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">que el dolor (...)</span><br /></em><div><em> <span style="font-size:85%;">lo injusto(...)</span></em></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><em> la guerra(...)</em></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><em> el futuro(...)</em></span></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"> ...no me sea indiferente"</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-2873683402468449406?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-72421850583965989852008-09-15T23:50:00.002+01:002008-09-16T00:01:16.037+01:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SM7m7kuFLXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Ezz_-2TcEVA/s1600-h/100_4453.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246384527076830578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SM7m7kuFLXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Ezz_-2TcEVA/s320/100_4453.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Continua a intrigar-me a luz - um fascínio irreflectido pelos reflexos, pelo ser e pelo não ser. Um jogo de rútilos espelhos, de luz e de sombra, de matéria e de sonho, de verdade e de dolorosa ilusão.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Como</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">distinguir as correntes apressadas e mutáveis da luz? </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Como resistir ao fascínio?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Como ser luz, e sombra e...?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">...como ser?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-7242185058396598985?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-27843363504771850502008-09-14T23:34:00.003+01:002008-09-14T23:46:53.079+01:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SM2RpSOZ31I/AAAAAAAAAEU/LwGyhutkGmE/s1600-h/100_3718.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246009279409413970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SM2RpSOZ31I/AAAAAAAAAEU/LwGyhutkGmE/s320/100_3718.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Regresso ao doce refúgio, perante o assobro das encruzilhadas; de jogos estranhos de luz, que não consigo compreender... </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Aqui, perante o vislumbrar do caminho, detenho-me no questionar das rotinas e das aparências...e a encruzilhada surge de novo... cruel, predadora.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Cruzar estranho de temor pensativo e de coragem fugidia...a delicadeza subtil das opções; as coincidências e o divagar - distraído ou soturno - dos pensamentos.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A vertigem fugaz das horas e dos sentidos, e um entorpecimento pesadamente real...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">O Amor - imenso e infinito - de Deus.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-2784336350477185050?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-61752741454114766422008-04-13T21:18:00.001+01:002008-12-10T13:42:23.651Z<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SAJq4ED0PNI/AAAAAAAAAEM/pn8OgLVR__4/s1600-h/FotosM%C3%A1quina+373.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188827232079199442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/SAJq4ED0PNI/AAAAAAAAAEM/pn8OgLVR__4/s320/FotosM%C3%A1quina+373.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Mas...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">...só por Ti...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </p><p><span style="font-size:78%;">*foto do primo</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-6175274145411476642?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-18173193822938677952008-04-06T17:45:00.002+01:002008-12-10T13:42:23.817Z<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R_j_ILs0cKI/AAAAAAAAAEE/orodLl-bamM/s1600-h/Queima2007+044.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186175486961938594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R_j_ILs0cKI/AAAAAAAAAEE/orodLl-bamM/s320/Queima2007+044.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></em><div></div><br /><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">"(...)Louca, ingénua e generosa,</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">e faminta de ilusão,</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Que nunca sabe os motivos</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">De quanto queira o capricho</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Ou lhe diga o coração"</span></em></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1817319382293867795?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-18391406442173854402008-03-23T22:57:00.004Z2008-12-10T13:42:24.353Z<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R-biD7s0cJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/ecAotjzmy-c/s1600-h/IMG_3976.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R-biD7s0cJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/ecAotjzmy-c/s320/IMG_3976.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181076978529497234" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">...Resurrexit...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:78%;">*foto do primo</span><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1839140644217385440?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-45332925175811136802008-03-20T22:03:00.003Z2008-12-10T13:42:24.372Z<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R-Lfrbs0cHI/AAAAAAAAADs/zgNXNtJ3bgQ/s1600-h/Hamburgo+%2833%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R-Lfrbs0cHI/AAAAAAAAADs/zgNXNtJ3bgQ/s320/Hamburgo+%2833%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179948458692604018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Pelo dia de hoje; para agradecer aquela surpresa...a sensação inqualificável de voltar a uma espécie de casa...quente, mágica, que faz sentido. Quase como um reencontro, talvez...os lugares, os cantos recônditos ( e já quase esquecidos!) da memória; voltar a uma espécie de estado de graça - que liberta, que transcende...e que transforma...<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-4533292517581113680?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-6645615369748341182008-03-18T20:18:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:24.584Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R-Aj1D8HRLI/AAAAAAAAADk/NmTS6BbGttQ/s1600-h/Imagens+104.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179178965973550258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R-Aj1D8HRLI/AAAAAAAAADk/NmTS6BbGttQ/s320/Imagens+104.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Só não entendo porquê...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-664561536974834118?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-3510056117371284082008-03-11T23:01:00.003Z2008-12-10T13:42:24.702Z<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R9cQbD8HRKI/AAAAAAAAADc/B-ttLlOvJxs/s1600-h/Aveiro+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176624353785627810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R9cQbD8HRKI/AAAAAAAAADc/B-ttLlOvJxs/s320/Aveiro+007.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Janelas abertas, rasgar (in)esperado da paisagem, abrangência do olhar e do sentir. A incerteza, como sempre, como uma sombra que incomoda e inquieta...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sabe bem, porém...muito bem; tirar o pó, ressurgir...abrir, abrir.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">E acreditar.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-351005611737128408?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-40609894735483690932008-02-12T20:47:00.001Z2008-12-10T13:42:25.150Z<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R7IGKnETgdI/AAAAAAAAADU/gP9oMjRRVpI/s1600-h/giz.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R7IGKnETgdI/AAAAAAAAADU/gP9oMjRRVpI/s320/giz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166198501902877138" border="0" /></a><br />Hoje...sonhar, apenas*...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-4060989473548369093?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-78085208494390957812008-02-11T22:25:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:25.354Z<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R7DL0nETgcI/AAAAAAAAADM/4wc_dZKjHls/s1600-h/Imagens+020.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165852877294633410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R7DL0nETgcI/AAAAAAAAADM/4wc_dZKjHls/s320/Imagens+020.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> As partidas inclementes e (in)esperadas do Tempo... os caminhos sinuosos, e a intrepidez impossível... a perseverança perante os escolhos, as flutuações súbitas e a fúria das tempestades repentinas. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>"Caminho do Triunfo", </em>no pulsar deliciosamente dormente dos sonhos, no fulgor relutante do primeiro passo. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-7808520849439095781?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-19112114297736816632008-02-10T22:23:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:25.570Z<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R698zXETgbI/AAAAAAAAADE/Hq25W4tKf24/s1600-h/Strand+046.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R698zXETgbI/AAAAAAAAADE/Hq25W4tKf24/s320/Strand+046.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165484519424491954" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:85%;" >Nós, a praia, o Sol, a guitarra, a bola...e o pato:)*...</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">Porque os tesouros se guardam no coração...porque assim me perco, na euforia de viver sonhos...pelo valor dos lugares, onde vamos deixando pegadas e beijos... porque os instantes se embriagam e se fundem, por vontade, na Eternidade...</span><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1911211429773681663?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-65413609759712717012008-01-09T20:43:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:25.755Z<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R4UyooS0ypI/AAAAAAAAAC8/f1PjIGACepA/s1600-h/Tocha+069.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R4UyooS0ypI/AAAAAAAAAC8/f1PjIGACepA/s320/Tocha+069.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153581022187932306" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >...Sonhar [contigo]...</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-6541360975971271701?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-89282474744768281342008-01-07T13:22:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:26.041Z<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R4In8IS0ynI/AAAAAAAAACs/Ou0JsBicuCg/s1600-h/Imagens+226.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152724837637343858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R4In8IS0ynI/AAAAAAAAACs/Ou0JsBicuCg/s320/Imagens+226.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ccccff;"><em>...Renascer...</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-8928247474476828134?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-78266309602772856502008-01-05T13:20:00.001Z2008-12-10T13:42:26.254Z<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R3-ENIS0ymI/AAAAAAAAACk/OVBPF-xkThE/s1600-h/Aveiro+011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R3-ENIS0ymI/AAAAAAAAACk/OVBPF-xkThE/s320/Aveiro+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151981859834743394" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" >Grande mistério, o dos Dias Cinzentos... os dias das sombras, das névoas, do indistinto. Os reflexos e as miragens, os jogos de aparência, os sonhos e as recordações... as verdades submersas...</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" >A espera ansiosa por Dias de Sol...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-7826630960277285650?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-18801062724791867542008-01-03T21:37:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:26.434Z<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R31V4YS0ylI/AAAAAAAAACc/DGrk8yNJUyo/s1600-h/Aveiro+052.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R31V4YS0ylI/AAAAAAAAACc/DGrk8yNJUyo/s320/Aveiro+052.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151367975864158802" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);">...Borboletas...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1880106272479186754?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-90839919134862003742007-11-20T21:42:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:26.694Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R0NVc6AtmeI/AAAAAAAAACU/xyltTiGKkhw/s1600-h/HPIM2030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135041955229440482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/R0NVc6AtmeI/AAAAAAAAACU/xyltTiGKkhw/s320/HPIM2030.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;">"...dort wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen."</span></em></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"> Heinrich Heine</span></div><div> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-9083991913486200374?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-85533491495436289172007-10-15T12:00:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:26.852Z<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RxNJS-pWLgI/AAAAAAAAACM/OorL0OK5XkE/s1600-h/giz.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121517791653277186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RxNJS-pWLgI/AAAAAAAAACM/OorL0OK5XkE/s320/giz.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em>"<span style="font-size:85%;"> ...E na mesma fogueira onde se aquecem,</span></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Comungam sentimentos e paixões..."</em><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-8553349149543628917?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-75680231794798833422007-09-30T20:48:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:27.093Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rv_-ePmIZiI/AAAAAAAAACE/7EFkmoEf32M/s1600-h/P8210051+alterado.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116087497252169250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rv_-ePmIZiI/AAAAAAAAACE/7EFkmoEf32M/s320/P8210051+alterado.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Para dizer obrigada, Príncipe...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">pela subtileza do que me ensinas, a cada momento...pelo que partilhamos...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">porque és precioso...porque me fazes sorrir, porque me fazes rir...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">porque o tempo passa...e fortalece os laços... </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">porque apetece mergulhar assim...em ti; abraçar-te, assim...e fluir, assim...contigo...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">pelos passos que damos juntos...pelo caminho que vamos trilhando, devagarinho...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">pelo que vamos descobrindo...em nós, no mundo...em Deus...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Porque te amo*....</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>...fotografia do Príncipe(",)*..</strong></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-7568023179479883342?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-4669034887441295342007-08-08T19:43:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:27.217Z<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RroPB1YBEgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Cb1jbaqPgiQ/s1600-h/DSC06416.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096402452505235970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RroPB1YBEgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Cb1jbaqPgiQ/s320/DSC06416.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> <span style="font-size:85%;"> O valor do desprendimento... o regresso à essência... a verdade... o ser, gratuitamente.</span></div><div> <span style="font-size:85%;">Henoc...o sorriso e o Servir... o valor de um legado...as estrelas do céu e as areias...</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"> Os [a]braços*...</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span style="font-size:78%;">Acanac 2007, Monte Trigo, Idanha-a-Nova</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-466903488744129534?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-92159513200322772682007-07-14T13:26:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:27.442Z<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RpjBKx1CeiI/AAAAAAAAAB0/P_43l_keasw/s1600-h/03.02.07+(35).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087028170033625634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RpjBKx1CeiI/AAAAAAAAAB0/P_43l_keasw/s320/03.02.07+(35).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /> ...<em>bué, bué de longe...<br /></em><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-9215951320032277268?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-56477930410111038872007-06-14T01:44:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:27.688Z<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RnCP2ETWm7I/AAAAAAAAABs/VLC_UiUw0qo/s1600-h/Picture+089.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075714939077172146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RnCP2ETWm7I/AAAAAAAAABs/VLC_UiUw0qo/s320/Picture+089.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Hoje, uma homenagem e um agradecimento...</div><div>Um confluir saboroso de sentimentos: os sonhos desorientados, o carácter árduo das conquistas, o poder do acaso; a dureza do percurso...</div><div>Como os horizontes se tornam infinitamente mais vastos; o fascínio das descobertas, o impulso fabuloso de fluir, assim.</div><div>Mais do que tudo, a Alma, a certeza incrível daquela marca...</div><div>[como ressoam, ainda, as torrentes das palavras...</div><div>Como pequeninos passos, incertos e confusos, nos conduzem àquele lugar: único, verdadeiro, onde urge ficar. </div><div>E aquele Abraço...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-5647793041011103887?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-25868632815134808892007-06-12T23:41:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:27.909Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rm8hNkTWm6I/AAAAAAAAABk/4pH74wvR5sw/s1600-h/Fotos+023.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075311822036704162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rm8hNkTWm6I/AAAAAAAAABk/4pH74wvR5sw/s320/Fotos+023.jpg" border="0" /></a> Depois, há os dias de nuvens...<br /><br /><br />Sentir que apenas se pertence ao vazio, ao sufoco do lugar onde não há nada..<br />Os dias em que se contempla " as coisas que inventamos para fazer de conta que existimos"...<br />Chegar ao fim do dia numa prisão que não se sabe se existe, com muros que atormentam (pela mera hipótese de realmente estarem ali...)<br />Como se um céu que acolhe e uma terra que sustenta se transformassem num palco, por um doloroso segundo...<br />O faz de conta...<br /><br />Como não votar, irremediavelmente, esse lugar a uma distância cada vez maior?<br />A súplica pela coragem de se ser...<br />A humildade dos passos, o traçar simples e sinuoso dos caminhos...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-2586863281513480889?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-286832379371200362007-05-31T23:00:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:28.544Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rl9OjL4UtlI/AAAAAAAAABc/c9AVvr7gF-o/s1600-h/Imagens+014.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070858071833884242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rl9OjL4UtlI/AAAAAAAAABc/c9AVvr7gF-o/s320/Imagens+014.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><br /><br /><div>Porque há dias assim... e porque também as cidades acesas se apagam, às vezes. </div><br /><div>Porque hoje é o dia dos nevoeiros, porque o brilho se entrega, também, à monotonia dos tons de cinzento...silenciosa, serena, subtil...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>E porque há momentos em que a alma se recolhe, assim...</div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-28683237937120036?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-90945732034028288762007-05-29T16:21:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:28.837Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RlxHK74UtiI/AAAAAAAAABE/DZdzYy1Nrm8/s1600-h/Imagens+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070005533710530082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RlxHK74UtiI/AAAAAAAAABE/DZdzYy1Nrm8/s320/Imagens+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Parabéns para nós...</em><br /></div><div><em>Pelo dia de ontem, por estes três anos...por cada momento...</em><br /></div><div><em>Porque é doce olhar para trás, pelo conforto dos teus (a)braços...</em><br /></div><div><em>Por essa fabulosa ousadia de caminharmos juntos... </em><br /></div><div><em>Por me completares...pelas brincadeiras, rosas vermelhas e baloiços...</em><br /></div><div><em>Por me fazeres assim, incrivelmente feliz....</em></div><br /><div><em>Amo-te***</em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-9094573203402828876?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-18464541939819707722007-05-21T00:03:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:29.032Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RlDVULgjxaI/AAAAAAAAAA8/bV-Xacv_A0I/s1600-h/Imagens+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066784123455260066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RlDVULgjxaI/AAAAAAAAAA8/bV-Xacv_A0I/s320/Imagens+008.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em>O Mundo</em>, ou a capacidade de me surpreender a cada instante. Como que uma activação imparável, constante, perene daquela Janela.<br />Um fascínio comparável a um encantamento... um <em>querer estar preso por vontade</em>.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Uma noite inesquecível...*<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-1846454193981970772?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-24146569172155221662007-05-18T23:17:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:29.050Z<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rk4mk7gjxZI/AAAAAAAAAA0/uLCpZWh5HB4/s1600-h/Queima2007+056.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066029046729786770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rk4mk7gjxZI/AAAAAAAAAA0/uLCpZWh5HB4/s320/Queima2007+056.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Hoje, a Saudade...talvez pela companhia generosa da noite... que espreita, sorri e acolhe. Como tudo aqui faz sentido, como é sonho o traçar e entrecruzar das linhas. O acaso, o inefável, insondável acaso. A música, o poder profundamente subtil e inspirado de um legado... como a rigidez das fronteiras se pulveriza, se dilui, se...; como se tudo estivesse escrito. E como é infinitamente bom...</div><div>As fitas...o tão desejado esvoaçar, no vento e no coração.</div><div>O sentido de pertencer aqui; e como... sempre, sem o conhecer, o conhecia... </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-2414656917215522166?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-58982837221266981632007-05-13T21:47:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:29.259Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rkd5qPdMDgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/jup7-L6mSG4/s1600-h/Queima2007+051.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064150072611835394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rkd5qPdMDgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/jup7-L6mSG4/s320/Queima2007+051.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> Para ti...</div><div> Para nós...</div><div> </div><div> Amo te...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-5898283722126698163?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-79634931115579851712007-03-27T23:36:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:29.411Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rgmc7pJQo_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/wzqIZiRs6DA/s1600-h/Desire2.BMP"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046737405916259314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/Rgmc7pJQo_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/wzqIZiRs6DA/s320/Desire2.BMP" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em>"...a Streetcar Named Desire..."</em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-7963493111557985171?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-51479651146442876602007-03-25T22:58:00.000+01:002008-12-10T13:42:29.668Z<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RgbytphcxBI/AAAAAAAAAAc/xO5grsfCc2w/s1600-h/05.02.07+(101).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045987298569405458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RgbytphcxBI/AAAAAAAAAAc/xO5grsfCc2w/s320/05.02.07+(101).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div>Os mistérios das malhas tortuosas do tempo...inclemência cruel, ou doce prolongar dos momentos... velocidade estonteante, respiração ansiosa, a vida num pulsar de relógio...ou uma apatia desorientada perante a imobilidade dos ponteiros...</div><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-5147965114644287660?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-63539367352405742572007-03-21T19:58:00.000Z2008-12-10T13:42:29.789Z<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RgG-3phcxAI/AAAAAAAAAAU/2MEEJzi3Xu8/s1600-h/letras.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044522920879899650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-gn2atvNIMM/RgG-3phcxAI/AAAAAAAAAAU/2MEEJzi3Xu8/s320/letras.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">O espírito dos lugares, das noites, das canções... as melodias, as "asas de andorinha"...as guitarras, os beijos... o "indizível", ou a arte das palavras...</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-6353936735240574257?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1171133456656306592007-02-10T18:37:00.000Z2007-02-10T18:50:56.666Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/368422/03.02.07%20%2817%29.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/738427/03.02.07%20%2817%29.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />O apelo a abrir os olhos...a continuar a ver, e a ver cada vez mais, por entre as lágrimas...como um qualquer fluido vital, que purifica e renova. <br />Depois, é como renascer...assumir o ruído e a direcção dos passos...e regressar, regressar sempre...após o tumulto das tempestades.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-117113345665630659?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1169151074312895252007-01-18T20:03:00.000Z2007-01-18T20:11:14.320Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/350517/Picture%20145.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/114518/Picture%20145.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />As cidades encantadas...palácios perdidos, as brumas da floresta. <br />Páginas de Contos de Fadas...Um enamoramento subtil, como um estado de sonambulismo consciente...<br />Manter-me aqui, presa aos Tempos, às Histórias, às princesas, aos cavalos alados...<br />Deixar os olhos assim, desesperadamente fechados, no conforto doce do sono...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116915107431289525?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1168472407830686202007-01-10T23:36:00.000Z2007-01-10T23:40:07.836Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/569902/IMG_0790.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/218527/IMG_0790.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /> <em>"All is Full of Love"</em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116847240783068620?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1168264038905710742007-01-08T13:32:00.000Z2007-01-08T13:47:18.926Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/78849/Fresco2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/766789/Fresco2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Na sobriedade do indistinto, hoje...num torpor estranho, apatia duvidosa perante a luz, o movimento e o pensamento...estar presa a um sono poderoso, talvez mágico, que encobre o consciente e desfoca o olhar...<br /><br />(Os teus (a)braços...sorrir só por ti...amo te...)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116826403890571074?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1168096384852036462007-01-06T15:05:00.000Z2007-01-06T15:13:04.863Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/393248/IMG_0724.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/274821/IMG_0724.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />...na senda delirante dos Portões Dourados, no vislumbre ansioso da Terra onde corre leite e mel...o alcance do que se sente; a magnanimidade de se ser Homem, a capacidade inimaginável do coração...<br />...o Mar que se abre, as águas que se separam...<br />...os vestígios na praia...sorridentes e apaziguados...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116809638485203646?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1167258862490820762006-12-27T22:24:00.000Z2006-12-27T22:34:22.496Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/602453/DSC03108.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/136911/DSC03108.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>..."Like a bridge over troubled water<br />I will lay me down"...</em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116725886249082076?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1166203038082842302006-12-15T17:04:00.000Z2006-12-15T17:17:18.090Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/551214/IMG_1080.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/293592/IMG_1080.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><em>Freiheit</em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116620303808284230?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1165439366427818392006-12-06T20:43:00.000Z2006-12-06T21:09:26.460Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/980804/Picture%20074.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/312169/Picture%20074.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /> E aqui me perco, irremediavelmente indefesa perante o poder avassalador da saudade... Fabulosa a memória dos lugares, mágica e poderosa a marca das relações e sentimentos. <br /> Aqui me perco, olhar inevitavelmente molhado, no desfilar das imagens...<br />O sorriso de todas as palavras, hoje...reviver o encantamento, máquina do tempo... <br /> E permanecer lá, por momentos...saborear a memória das terras distantes;e o abraço...aquele abraço...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116543936642781839?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1164818367911289322006-11-29T16:20:00.000Z2006-11-29T16:39:27.960Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/287211/DSC03049_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/359252/DSC03049_4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Hoje é para nós...pelas conquistas, pelos sonhos partilhados...pelo sabor de plenitude dos momentos; pelos sorrisos e pelas mãos.<br />É o apelo da unidade, aquele abraço delicioso...é o parar do tempo, o perpetuar dos segundos...em nós.<br />"...somos fogo e vida..."<br /><br />Amo-te*...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116481836791128932?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1164573796175748622006-11-26T20:38:00.000Z2006-11-26T20:43:16.183Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/1600/432017/FotosM%3F%3Fquina%20109.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8032/3952/320/10044/FotosM%3F%3Fquina%20109.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Fragilidade.<br />Hoje, assim...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>...foto do primo*...</em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116457379617574862?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1163888898015800982006-11-18T22:19:00.000Z2006-11-18T22:31:16.613Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/1600/DSC03003.jpg"><img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/320/DSC03003.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />...Vontade de me esconder aqui, atrás da máscara; o misterioso dom da invisibilidade, refúgio seguro no conforto do escuro e na subtileza do silêncio...<br />...esperar aqui, no abraço solitário...até que amanheça.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116388889801580098?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1163689812127466432006-11-16T14:38:00.000Z2006-11-16T15:10:12.516Z<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/1600/Picture%20046.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/320/Picture%20046.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /> Coincidência sublime, ou simples conspiração do Universo...o som do aconchego, as melodias de tantos e tantos momentos daquela luz...o Abraço supremo, o absoluto prenúncio de mais uma página de eternidade...<br /><br /> O poder surpreendente daquele Sorriso, na vastidão dos instantes, nos sonhados horizontes remotos, nas aspirações secretas.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116368981212746643?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1162035237502879502006-10-28T12:28:00.000+01:002006-10-28T12:33:57.510+01:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/1600/Ritinha.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/320/Ritinha.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /> O impulso irresistível de concretizar sonhos...de revelar um rosto de sorriso, e o (im)pensado lançamento no abismo rutilante da realidade.<br /><br /> E o sabor da música embriaga sentidos, aspirações e utopias...o estender dos braços é brasa que queima, o revigorar ansiado do espírito.<br /><br /> E a doçura etérea daquele lugar...que respira, que mexe, que fala...a chama da unidade plena e verdadeira.<br /><br /><br /> Parabéns(",)*...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116203523750287950?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1161448984286899292006-10-21T17:34:00.000+01:002006-10-21T17:58:00.116+01:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/1600/HPIM2033.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: center; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/320/HPIM2033.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />...E o coração deambula ao sabor da disposição dos ventos... Dias de acalmia e plenitude, de um vento quente, doce...um fogo com o poder de um beijo...a música dos sentidos...e um adormecer sorridente. E dias de tempestade furiosa, de desilusões, naufrágios desencantados... e um instinto letárgico que desespera.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p>Aquele Sorriso, porém...permanece.</p><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116144898428689929?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1160340975630948862006-10-08T21:26:00.000+01:002006-10-08T21:56:15.656+01:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/1600/CarnavalBW3.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/320/CarnavalBW3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /> Desafio...cada dia maior, mais forte, estranhamente intenso... A consciência de que é preciso cultivar o que adormece cá dentro, manter acesa a chama das opções, iluminado o caminho a trilhar...fortes e determinadas as convicções... e profundo o mergulho pleno na Fé...<br /> As "pedras no caminho" forçam uma presença brutal e inevitável..mas permanece a lembrança doce e confiante do castelo que me permitirão construir...<br /> Conforta-me a magia ardente dos (a)braços..uma luz quente, única, que acolhe..quero os teus (a)braços...para sempre...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-116034097563094886?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35510805.post-1159994170785453682006-10-04T20:47:00.000+01:002006-10-05T21:22:20.910+01:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/1600/Picture%20232.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8032/3952/320/Picture%20232.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,255)">"(...)</span> Come, my friends,<br />'tis no too late to seek a newer world.<br />(...) ; for my purpose holds<br />To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths<br />Of all the western stars, until I die...<br />(...) To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Um bocadinho de Tennyson, hoje...para ilustrar o meu propósito de alargar horizontes, de abrir os braços até à exaustão, numa vontade imensa de abraçar o mundo...uma demanda nova, um deixar-me apaixonar...Deixar que o brilho dos olhos me faça crescer, deixar-me envolver...sentir-me inundada da música do mundo...parte de uma harmonia intemporal, transparente...um Sorriso que abarca o Universo...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35510805-115999417078545368?l=nos-teus-abracos.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ritahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843662355389818048noreply@blogger.com1