tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86814920422485425362011-07-31T05:06:57.423-03:00O infinito particular de alguém que vive à lá Peter Pan...maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.comBlogger61100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681492042248542536.post-13308678504221141402010-01-22T17:05:00.012-03:002010-01-22T17:36:16.938-03:00<div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>I don't think I can say goodbye right now. And it's not that I can't let things go, it's not that I cage everyone I need. It has nothing to do with that. My sense is fair enough not to let me make those mistakes. Im reasonable enough to set them free. But honestly, I don't let them get that close, so I never really had a need to keep someone for myself. But sometimes things change, and you realize how much you need someone. And you can learn to set this person free, you are capable of doing that, but you are just not ready to do that yet.</em></span><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I'm not ready to let go. I'm not ready to say goodbye</span></em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8681492042248542536-1330867850422114140?l=maya-spoladore.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681492042248542536.post-65662078992261914772009-05-15T01:39:00.003-03:002009-05-15T01:56:11.036-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/Sgz1vwAUWxI/AAAAAAAAAB4/qR9WXzZQ8tw/s1600-h/andar[1].jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335909859216087826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/Sgz1vwAUWxI/AAAAAAAAAB4/qR9WXzZQ8tw/s320/andar%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Eu quis falar, quis sim. Ia explicar, comentar, responder. Mas distraí. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Esqueci o que fazia, o que queria, o que dizia. Nem sei mais.</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Fiquei vazia, seguindo só, sem direção.</span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><em>Eu quis pensar, mas o pensamento por si só me prendeu em outro lugar.</em> </span></div><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><div align="center"><em>Eu me perco, e quase nunca sei voltar.</em><br /><em>Não estou mais aqui. Nem fale, nem fale. Eu não vou escutar.</em></span></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;">o olhar vago denuncia...</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8681492042248542536-6566207899226191477?l=maya-spoladore.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681492042248542536.post-13942406611414756942009-05-08T13:03:00.005-03:002009-05-08T13:20:36.403-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/SgRZOgy71lI/AAAAAAAAABg/1_heyZP6zx4/s1600-h/midnight%20sun.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333485964570121810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/SgRZOgy71lI/AAAAAAAAABg/1_heyZP6zx4/s320/midnight%2520sun.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em><span style="color:#cccccc;">"Eu lutei para achar palavras para nomear os sentimentos que me invadiram, mas não existiam palavras fortes o suficiente para descrevê -los. Por um longo momento, me afoguei neles.<br />Quando eu emergi, não era o mesmo homem que havia sido. Minha vida era a meia-noite, sem mudanças, sem fim. Deveria, por necessidade, sempre ser a meia-noite para mim. Então como era possível que o sol estivesse nascendo agora, bem na metade da meia-noite?"</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#cccccc;"></span></em><br /></span></div><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cccccc;">[midnight sun - cap 5]</span></em></div><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cccccc;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;color:#cccccc;">o grande problema é quando a escuridão volta a reinar.</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8681492042248542536-1394240661141475694?l=maya-spoladore.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681492042248542536.post-84893738048841592342009-04-29T03:10:00.003-03:002009-04-29T03:26:09.993-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/Sffy5U-DnpI/AAAAAAAAABY/DuW9CmfyOkQ/s1600-h/euphoria.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329995750711729810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 297px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/Sffy5U-DnpI/AAAAAAAAABY/DuW9CmfyOkQ/s320/euphoria.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">Sorrio para mim mesma, riu à toa, gargalho sozinha. Ainda mordo o lábio. Giro, danço. O coração palpita, pula e volta, finge reclamar, enquanto me largo em qualquer canto, tentando recobrar a capacidade de respirar.</span></div><br /><div><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">As borboletas insistem em dar cambalhotas no meu estômago.</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8681492042248542536-8489373804884159234?l=maya-spoladore.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681492042248542536.post-21403724946364800302009-04-28T23:09:00.004-03:002009-04-28T23:36:31.551-03:00<span style="color:#999999;"></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/Sfe5it5czII/AAAAAAAAABQ/1VFbkFtz9uo/s1600-h/black_rose3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329932690103520386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqX0qu2kpR8/Sfe5it5czII/AAAAAAAAABQ/1VFbkFtz9uo/s320/black_rose3.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;">"...and I won't go, <strong>I won't sleep, I</strong> <strong>can't breathe</strong>,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;">until you're resting here with me</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;">and I won't leave, no <strong>I can't hide</strong>,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>I cannot be</strong>, untilyou're resting here with me..."</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#999999;">Here with me - <strong>dido</strong></span></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><blockquote></blockquote></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#999999;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"><em>perdi a capacidade de respirar.</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8681492042248542536-2140372494636480030?l=maya-spoladore.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681492042248542536.post-76289043776892605522009-04-27T10:39:00.001-03:002009-04-27T11:03:46.974-03:00Mordo o lábio uma, duas, três vezes. Mal consigo respirar. Uma ânsia de vômito constate me assola, como se houvesse um furacão em meu estômago. Eu nem sinto meus pés no chão. Só tenho consciência do relógio ao meu lado, enquanto conto ansiosamente as horas. Os minutos. Os segundos.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Eu sinto tudo forte demas. Esse é o problema.</span></em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8681492042248542536-7628904377689260552?l=maya-spoladore.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>maya.spoladorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08191781267171420767noreply@blogger.com2