tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296127312024-03-10T02:46:05.379+00:00just me, an ordinary girljust me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-80802764772613280692021-03-13T22:15:00.000+00:002021-03-13T22:15:01.659+00:00Daft Punk, Veridis Quo...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HhZaHf8RP6g" width="320" youtube-src-id="HhZaHf8RP6g"></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-42565386330495900012020-11-10T15:41:00.000+00:002020-11-10T15:41:32.098+00:00<p> POEMA ENCONTRADO NO FUNDO DO BALDE DO LIXO </p><p><br /></p><p>Conheço todos os argumentos. </p><p>Conheço todos os contra-argumentos. </p><p>Conheço a futilidade da nossa vida. </p><p>Conheço a fome, a sede, a ânsia. </p><p>A alegria. </p><p>O amor? Também. </p><p>O desamor. A felicidade e a desgraça.</p><p>Tropeço cada dia na mesma pedra.</p><p>Tropeço cada dia na mesma pedra. </p><p>Tropeço cada dia na mesma pedra. </p><p>No fim já não se sabe</p><p>se há pedra ou se tropeçamos </p><p>por hábito, por amor à arte,</p><p>porque não somos capazes de outra coisa. </p><p>Porque o homem é um animal que tropeça.</p><p>Porque não somos capazes de outra coisa. </p><p><br /></p><p>Roger Wolfe</p>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-14607935683785757822020-09-20T20:56:00.000+01:002020-09-20T20:56:38.812+01:00<b>Com unhas e dentes</b><div><br /></div><div>Estar vivo</div><div>é abrir uma gaveta </div><div>na cozinha,</div><div>tirar uma faca de cabo preto, </div><div>descascar uma laranja. </div><div>Viver é outra coisa :</div><div>deixas a gaveta fechada</div><div>e arrancas tudo</div><div>com unhas e dentes,</div><div>o sabor amargo da casca, </div><div>de tão doce, </div><div>nunca o esqueces. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Poema de Luís Filipe Parrado</div>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-55925719701580247132020-08-18T22:04:00.000+01:002020-08-18T22:04:38.898+01:00<p><br /></p><p>« Do you love me?» Asked Alice.</p><p>« No, I don’t love you.» Said the white rabbit.</p><p>Alice wrinkled her forehead and began to rub her hands nervously, like she always did when she was in pain.</p><p>« Can you see that?» Said the white rabbit. « Now you’re probably wondering if it is your fault, why can’t I at least love you a little bit, what makes you so imperfect, fragmented. This is the reason why I can’t love you. Because there will be days in which I will be tired, angry, with my head in the clouds and I’ll hurt you. Every day happens to trample the feelings of the others for boredom, carelessness, misunderstanding. But if you don’t love yourself at least a little bit, If you do not create a shield of pure joy around your heart, my weak darts will be lethal and I will destroy you. The first time that I met you, I made a pact with myself: I’d not love you until you will teach to yourself your value. So Alice no, I don’t love you. I can’t do it.»</p><p><br /></p><p>De Lewis Carrol em Alice in wonderland</p>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-1379414617596448142020-08-15T22:55:00.002+01:002020-08-15T22:55:33.883+01:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpuaEuaw7H-V-rFuoBfq1TTgk_OM1x1CXEG2BqprTycrvB1nWKKJeZ-4nCYmc4_rUtWaUnGpKl_unmyntgwh5wXRBtao2h-cx9nY7E_w62OqEBCGwbYnYr1bKjuGMjnUbvEhr/s225/transferir.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpuaEuaw7H-V-rFuoBfq1TTgk_OM1x1CXEG2BqprTycrvB1nWKKJeZ-4nCYmc4_rUtWaUnGpKl_unmyntgwh5wXRBtao2h-cx9nY7E_w62OqEBCGwbYnYr1bKjuGMjnUbvEhr/w281-h281/transferir.jpeg" width="281" /></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: center;">De Ron Padgett </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p></p>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-49884445815292000402020-08-06T00:39:00.002+01:002020-08-06T00:39:12.112+01:00Kerli, minha mana-querida-e-adorada, Todos os dias, na verdade a quase todos os momentos, penso em ti.<div>Há dias em que sou muito muito egoísta. Penso em ti, sim, mas na falta que me fazes. </div><div>A tua companhia nos almoços no Freixial. As tuas opiniões sempre directas e assertivas. As tuas ideias, tantas vezes em oposição com as minhas, o que nos fazia discutir, aprender, evoluir, crescer. As tuas risadas, muitas quando estavas em fases felizes. Os nossos cafés, os nossos passeios, a nossa troca de livros... As nossas confidências, só nossas, para sempre. As nossas desavenças, também. Os nossos desacordos que às vezes levávamos semanas a resolver.</div><div>Penso na falta que me fazes, choro, sinto pena de mim própria. Custa-me tanto aceitar a vida, assim, sem ti!</div><div><br /></div><div>E depois há os outros dias, cada vez são mais, estes dias. Em que penso em ti, só em ti. No momento presente 18h, 05/08/2020, que não estás a viver. Não estás a ver este sol, a sentir este calor de Verão, que tu adoravas. Não estás na praia, a ver o mar, a comer um gelado, a tirar fotos abraçada às tuas meninas...</div><div>Nunca mais abraçarás as tuas meninas....</div><div>Cada vez penso mais em ti, que desapareceste, que não me verás nunca mais, nem à mamã, ao papá, à leninha. As pessoas da tua vida, os teus amores.</div><div>Sinto um sufoco, no peito. Sinto o coração a apertar, a mirrar, a ficar, mais e mais, pequeno. É uma dor física! Não é uma sensação, uma "impressão" como me dizem.Não consigo chorar, inspiro fundo, tento aliviar... </div><div>Também me dizem que vou aprender a viver com esta dor. Eu sei que sim, que vou. </div><div>Mas com o coração, dia a dia, mais e mais pequeno, também tenho cada vez menos amor dentro de mim. Não tenho, terei, tanto amor pelos outros, e por mim própria, como antes. Não tenho tanto para dar, oferecer, a ninguém, como antes. </div><div>Eu tenho que aprender a viver sem ti. </div><div>Os outros terão que aprender a viver comigo assim.</div><div>Amo-te tanto. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>fatima</div><div><br /></div>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-76480070943985143732020-08-04T20:29:00.003+01:002020-08-04T20:30:23.767+01:00Nico Cartosio, Melting... <div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bDshxWiLrZc" width="320" youtube-src-id="bDshxWiLrZc"></iframe></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: center;"><br /></div>just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-32566649771195860352020-04-29T20:53:00.001+01:002020-04-29T20:53:03.380+01:00Sad Clown, Viva LaVida<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-24241479918803119542020-01-29T01:45:00.001+00:002020-01-29T01:45:40.585+00:00Emmanuel Moire, Aimer Encore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I `ve been out walking</div>
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I don`t do too much talking</div>
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These days i seem to think a lot</div>
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About the things that i forgot to do</div>
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I`ve stopped my dreaming</div>
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I won`t do too much scheming</div>
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These days, these days</div>
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These days i sit on corner stones</div>
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And count the time in quarter tones to ten</div>
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Please don`t confront me with my failures</div>
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I had not forgotten them</div>
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-30493622938126140092020-01-06T23:25:00.003+00:002020-01-06T23:25:54.313+00:00<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b>Se fosses pássaro baterias as asas para destruir a armadilha</b></div>
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<b>Se fosses abelha farias zumbir a revolta</b></div>
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<b>Se fosses formiga carregarias a ordem, armazenarias a fadiga</b></div>
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de <i>Daniel Faria</i></div>
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just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-8528401572995567122020-01-05T22:30:00.000+00:002020-01-05T22:30:03.747+00:00<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b>E unicamente ao movimento de crescer nos guiasse. Termos das árvores</b></div>
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<b>A incomparável paciência de procurar o alto</b></div>
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<b>A verde bondade de permanecer</b></div>
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<b>E orientar os pássaros. </b></div>
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de <i>Daniel Faria</i></div>
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just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-82490711057798643232020-01-03T22:32:00.000+00:002020-01-03T22:32:00.023+00:00Spiritualized, Stop Your Crying<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-78356672941668509802020-01-03T22:24:00.000+00:002020-01-03T22:24:05.798+00:00Spiritualized, A Perfect Miracle...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-84046562917932175932020-01-01T23:11:00.002+00:002020-01-01T23:25:03.435+00:00Happy 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>I hope there are days where you fall in love with being alive.</b></div>
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<b>I hope a part of your heart lives there forever.</b></div>
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just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-80624629904759234132019-12-22T23:30:00.003+00:002019-12-22T23:34:59.898+00:00My Life as a Zucchini ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-30519792267649259782019-12-18T23:04:00.000+00:002019-12-18T23:04:57.011+00:00Françoise Hardy, Tant de Belles Choses...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-69659782057787423702019-12-18T21:10:00.002+00:002019-12-18T21:10:44.228+00:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-5387627319876030562019-12-12T23:00:00.001+00:002019-12-12T23:00:37.192+00:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>de <i>Michael Dumontier & Neil Farber</i></b></div>
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-8323860732184021792019-12-12T22:46:00.003+00:002019-12-12T22:46:35.985+00:00Sean Riley & The Slowriders, Lights Out...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-15077818104524361682019-12-11T23:24:00.001+00:002019-12-11T23:24:16.778+00:00Beth Hart, Setting Me Free<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-23600469710242806702019-12-11T23:22:00.004+00:002019-12-11T23:22:38.110+00:00Beth Hart, Caught In The Rain...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-20345500492334425122019-12-11T23:04:00.001+00:002019-12-11T23:04:55.360+00:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Não quero o mar.</b></div>
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<b>Quero o instante</b></div>
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<b>em que o oceano inteiro</b></div>
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<b>se enrosca numa só onda.</b></div>
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de <i>Mia Couto</i></div>
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just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-20608147652091259582019-12-11T22:43:00.000+00:002019-12-11T22:43:08.392+00:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />just me, an ordinary girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05312566282468231646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29612731.post-53479007207451239432019-11-28T23:23:00.002+00:002019-11-28T23:23:21.700+00:00Agnes Obel, Familiar...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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