tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82662862012-02-17T03:24:28.569ZNão acreditava no que os meus olhos me diziam, por isso servi-me dos meus sonhos, descobri o que já sabia, e aprendi uma nova maneira de voar...Catarina Bettencourthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07838165314614737956noreply@blogger.comBlogger41100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266286.post-65130577748417585642009-05-21T19:36:00.001+01:002009-05-21T19:38:38.400+01:00Todos os dias se encontravam na mesma paragem de autocarro. Todos os dias, precisamente às 7.20 tinham como que encontro marcado naquela paragem de autocarros. Mesmo nos dias que entravam mais tarde. Mais do que um hábito, ou qualquer outra coisa, tinha-se tornado uma necessidade. Cada um deles precisava daqueles 20 minutos de constragimento.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8266286-6513057774841758564?l=sonharazul.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Catarina Bettencourthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07838165314614737956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266286.post-12658853048232681902009-04-18T23:37:00.003+01:002009-04-18T23:47:34.994+01:00<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZrDxe9gK8Gk&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZrDxe9gK8Gk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8266286-1265885304823268190?l=sonharazul.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Catarina Bettencourthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07838165314614737956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266286.post-34439313220084333592009-01-28T17:48:00.001Z2009-01-28T17:55:39.450Z<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UkIkUD85UcE/SYCb_pCDdII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DiYtG0N8uME/s1600-h/On_Change.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 166px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UkIkUD85UcE/SYCb_pCDdII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DiYtG0N8uME/s400/On_Change.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296404679436235906" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8266286-3443931322008433359?l=sonharazul.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Catarina Bettencourthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07838165314614737956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266286.post-26507308586000784332009-01-27T00:49:00.002Z2009-01-27T00:52:47.462ZTime present and time past<br />Are both perhaps present in time future?<br />And time future contained in time past.<br />If all time eternally present<br />All time is redeemable<br /><br /> T. S. Eliot, in <em>Burnt Norton poem</em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8266286-2650730858600078433?l=sonharazul.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Catarina Bettencourthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07838165314614737956noreply@blogger.com1