tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58557234866074944962024-03-06T22:02:55.390+02:00PrimaNoctePrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.comBlogger665125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-44757105740128198702012-01-05T23:06:00.001+02:002012-01-05T23:07:56.215+02:002012<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-t2U5XEJiJY_q6MKOeMN9hIvAoBbBm7jxVyi_HpH7z3Tka5Xm4Cavq4AT3xT5D9RsG6_cOT7N9rc_sSWvHUiitKL4veaGASiUbCPv9dZbIxI8AmSEX7QzKIO1KINri2ar_F0NVdpKiA/s1600/402219_10151110813320177_632825176_22293382_527204850_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-t2U5XEJiJY_q6MKOeMN9hIvAoBbBm7jxVyi_HpH7z3Tka5Xm4Cavq4AT3xT5D9RsG6_cOT7N9rc_sSWvHUiitKL4veaGASiUbCPv9dZbIxI8AmSEX7QzKIO1KINri2ar_F0NVdpKiA/s320/402219_10151110813320177_632825176_22293382_527204850_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694257332452574754" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Que me ajudes a ser feliz.<br /></span></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-25226778631650629242010-09-04T15:50:00.000+02:002010-09-04T15:51:39.407+02:00Isto não é o meu Moçambique.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5OSyeNKXIs3fNW0xxXPfFxUMwdGG7MucwMQlV9q6nJ2jcVQ81zqRkxzQnKY0jAO6_bMVsOBpGnmJoHAb5MiTqL3IB1O-ZkkBVEgrPdYPHygwHb-mloAgoOw8H3Wn4rLUQV3dYZXePQ/s1600/Maputo+-+09.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5OSyeNKXIs3fNW0xxXPfFxUMwdGG7MucwMQlV9q6nJ2jcVQ81zqRkxzQnKY0jAO6_bMVsOBpGnmJoHAb5MiTqL3IB1O-ZkkBVEgrPdYPHygwHb-mloAgoOw8H3Wn4rLUQV3dYZXePQ/s320/Maputo+-+09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513055620045905618" border="0" /></a>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-42555946262177787222010-05-17T20:33:00.000+02:002010-05-17T20:34:14.889+02:00And I wonder?<div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000066;">"Ambos sabemos que tens medo de mim e medo de ser feliz. E ambos sabemos que, à tua maneira, me sabes amar, apesar de todas as desculpas inteligentes, de todos os medos, de todas as dúvidas."</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-46287166659544007602010-02-12T09:39:00.004+02:002010-02-12T09:43:08.930+02:00Mais de mim.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUviw802UztmyrRv9pCxtfedJctR_-n-PYuTstKsL2ijnbt5RLr9PYq3u_jyLmrm19S3WWGtqMweSmZz-D_9nJ-G0hRCLpiWZsuBjatnT_WFsNhNP4VLeCPGgZubDVoWwA9jBp8qT2IA/s1600-h/Travessia+nos+bons+sinais.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437258929815224194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUviw802UztmyrRv9pCxtfedJctR_-n-PYuTstKsL2ijnbt5RLr9PYq3u_jyLmrm19S3WWGtqMweSmZz-D_9nJ-G0hRCLpiWZsuBjatnT_WFsNhNP4VLeCPGgZubDVoWwA9jBp8qT2IA/s320/Travessia+nos+bons+sinais.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;">Adoro cumplicidade, adoro de paixão falar sem dizer palavra com quem sou cumplíce, olhar nos olhos e saber tudo, assim sem ser preciso mais nada. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#009900;">Adoro, adoro, adoro.</span><br />Adoro viagens, ver novos povos, enlear-me em culturas e viver só para as contar. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#006600;">Adoro, adoro, adoro.</span><br />Adoro um embirrar saudável, daquele que dá estímulo, que dá luta e nos faz ser melhores. Gosto da luta. E adoro as pazes.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#009900;">Adoro, adoro, adoro.</span><br />Adoro sorrisos, e motivos para sorrir. Tardes de brilhos nos olhos e muitos sorrisos á mistura. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#006600;">Adoro, adoro, adoro.<br /></span>Adoro beijos roubados. Dos Longos. Dos Curtos. De todos.Olhares daqueles. E dos outros também. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#009900;">Adoro, adoro, adoro.</span><br />Adoro palavras. Adoro músicas que não sei cantar. Filmes que poderiam ser eu. E encontros com o destino. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;">Adoro, adoro, adoro.</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-66280326495993666752010-02-12T09:31:00.002+02:002010-02-12T09:38:56.874+02:00Go...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySN-wS1uQvadtG9uyL-7DYhPsV-MyVQVpDoxYZJ8HNwDV-e1DYsPei_OLE0vGCTeDqgsfdx4nQ2YC87NPUqUt7M2GxfZRZN1TjBlcqR7iUtEcpRV0-4MD6qwNks5jrnJ1U0CWRyToqw/s1600-h/dancaNHAPELEinhassoro.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437257188674504082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySN-wS1uQvadtG9uyL-7DYhPsV-MyVQVpDoxYZJ8HNwDV-e1DYsPei_OLE0vGCTeDqgsfdx4nQ2YC87NPUqUt7M2GxfZRZN1TjBlcqR7iUtEcpRV0-4MD6qwNks5jrnJ1U0CWRyToqw/s320/dancaNHAPELEinhassoro.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">If you don’t go after what you want, you’ll never have it. If you don’t ask, the answer is always no. If you don’t step forward, you’re always in the same place.</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-29427911623415024762010-02-05T09:40:00.003+02:002010-02-05T09:41:25.703+02:00Life.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1z0D8Im4yBdUjr-UcjDWnD-SMG3MpdH5RMDT6dUMYLfN7ndM1MmFEkUvl_FaLo8Bq1mEQ5D8SOh7FKgkYtWPYDVaApnWmrvWLRMXIhM9lb8dvM5x39qMtVYEx5ghg1DYrdZgRpPaX5w/s1600-h/xi5.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434661205735083090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1z0D8Im4yBdUjr-UcjDWnD-SMG3MpdH5RMDT6dUMYLfN7ndM1MmFEkUvl_FaLo8Bq1mEQ5D8SOh7FKgkYtWPYDVaApnWmrvWLRMXIhM9lb8dvM5x39qMtVYEx5ghg1DYrdZgRpPaX5w/s320/xi5.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">The difficulties of life are intended to make us better, not bitter.</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-60604350780934352392010-01-31T19:34:00.001+02:002010-01-31T19:36:00.282+02:00And I wonder?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-raiRK0FZv7fdp7pldLHaiaViki7FLw2-U66m_DhDMtTwmsbRfua-1MPjk2qAtaGee2R9OvfAY36tEg8LR9w8Uh64CqKL91O-iI0Nfke7y6sq4ymErz3IZKxhnWKho5lOLUfDztWNQQ/s1600-h/dsc01842.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432959015055723954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-raiRK0FZv7fdp7pldLHaiaViki7FLw2-U66m_DhDMtTwmsbRfua-1MPjk2qAtaGee2R9OvfAY36tEg8LR9w8Uh64CqKL91O-iI0Nfke7y6sq4ymErz3IZKxhnWKho5lOLUfDztWNQQ/s320/dsc01842.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;"><strong>Whoever you are, there is some younger person who thinks you are perfect. There is some work that will never be done if you don’t do it. There is someone who would miss you if you were gone. There is a place that you alone can fill.<br />“<br />—<br />Jacob M. Braude</strong></span> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-70800321925801863512010-01-31T19:32:00.001+02:002010-01-31T19:34:12.670+02:00That´s what they say.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFC3Y1NFgVL76KwLqkdswZdaYG2HqvvUdpYwle2zF6_2opSNygoRARnxQRiL4edShMptA2hkdXFnCgyJ3g4x4opkMHofLYOyy0ukCDC0Pl4jkyjizormJ-4xfJd81bY8A8GJby7nNLzA/s1600-h/vendaananas3.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432958565428669842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFC3Y1NFgVL76KwLqkdswZdaYG2HqvvUdpYwle2zF6_2opSNygoRARnxQRiL4edShMptA2hkdXFnCgyJ3g4x4opkMHofLYOyy0ukCDC0Pl4jkyjizormJ-4xfJd81bY8A8GJby7nNLzA/s320/vendaananas3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">Love - a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker.</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-8552049790717897542010-01-31T19:31:00.002+02:002010-01-31T19:32:08.552+02:00Diz que esteve de chuva...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyevBqYmsS1tRcKO5Irwshf1Q2sWtAm1WyYhtXK37wHtbjiL5MpDTh4yDQfd8nQHhEukOrTsliYXImw8UhoZV9gg4IRo6HYLTMBgDVUnYQPDqAIkZJbeLinYrGVWh5m4C7d0GVTW6sA/s1600-h/Photo-0077.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432958060956010338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyevBqYmsS1tRcKO5Irwshf1Q2sWtAm1WyYhtXK37wHtbjiL5MpDTh4yDQfd8nQHhEukOrTsliYXImw8UhoZV9gg4IRo6HYLTMBgDVUnYQPDqAIkZJbeLinYrGVWh5m4C7d0GVTW6sA/s320/Photo-0077.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBCmCxKbheXzadv-b8_T5VAO2bMTWlrtC6LCJIfxTrGPBfmF85IUkrRkhM9hjHpyhYJyzZD_V2nLSKNd3jgmEeZv8pGDhcxx8KbJSUKd9kAAlHZ4f2Ebss9BxCjLb3Lca3Ximw_varw/s1600-h/Photo-0073.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432957975776826978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBCmCxKbheXzadv-b8_T5VAO2bMTWlrtC6LCJIfxTrGPBfmF85IUkrRkhM9hjHpyhYJyzZD_V2nLSKNd3jgmEeZv8pGDhcxx8KbJSUKd9kAAlHZ4f2Ebss9BxCjLb3Lca3Ximw_varw/s320/Photo-0073.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-9248543258373739042009-11-19T21:29:00.001+02:002009-11-19T21:31:26.724+02:00Tu.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyXwToqPZx2K8_QuCmVjnS5BQEChZPalA1uYNbUsavgswzlSwegbVCNZTSUan7tKGExiZjKN6T-2jRhZhiGBDjvZ2gNaEl2mPuahNNewXDuHM7VZBIU6TDip_XVC2RJUJCAvSgD09aw/s1600/gjn.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405899475945791346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyXwToqPZx2K8_QuCmVjnS5BQEChZPalA1uYNbUsavgswzlSwegbVCNZTSUan7tKGExiZjKN6T-2jRhZhiGBDjvZ2gNaEl2mPuahNNewXDuHM7VZBIU6TDip_XVC2RJUJCAvSgD09aw/s320/gjn.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><strong>' Tu, foste como um dia de folga entre dois compromissos adiados.e é a lembrança dessa felicidade que me ilumina as palavras.não digo que te amei por ter possuído o teu corpo, mas sim por ter roçado a tua alma.se pudesse estar apenas perto de ti, a ouvir a tua voz,a demorar o meu olhar sobre o teu, ter-te-ia amado na mesma..fiquei preso no que está para lá do visível; enredado entre as folhas da tua verdadeira essência.não sei se ainda és aquela que encontrei. mas, naquela tarde,sozinhos entre as paredes frescas da casa, foste, definitivamente tudo. '</strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="color:#000099;"><strong><br /></div></strong></span><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><strong>"Segura-te ao meu peito em chamas" Possidónio Cachapa</strong></span></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-17882900082500692302009-10-22T07:39:00.002+02:002009-10-22T07:40:26.254+02:00Enjoy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86izMiKKXMA7WmecGU2e1rej9NwWkEWXKpRM1bZogaYMoMX6XlwBpFvUeBBMjW3XKV2fkBC7ApgfpZ-wHKyHBJMBST63Rw0qAHw_2ztQd4D0jF7TgcN-sBH_zz4nreBVzEsX_RGOI-Q/s1600-h/dsc01894.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395295055943854882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86izMiKKXMA7WmecGU2e1rej9NwWkEWXKpRM1bZogaYMoMX6XlwBpFvUeBBMjW3XKV2fkBC7ApgfpZ-wHKyHBJMBST63Rw0qAHw_2ztQd4D0jF7TgcN-sBH_zz4nreBVzEsX_RGOI-Q/s320/dsc01894.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;">It’s not about what happened in the past, or what you think might happen in the future. It’s about the ride, for Christ’s sake. There is no point in going through all this crap, if your are not going to enjoy the ride. And you know what… when you least expect it, something great might come along. Something better then you even planned for.<br />“<br />—<br />Along Came Polly</span> </span></strong><a href="http://littlemiss.tumblr.com/post/219544013/its-not-about-what-happened-in-the-past-or-what"><br /></div></a>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-39650271348533585342009-10-17T17:55:00.001+02:002009-10-17T17:57:21.065+02:00Action.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpa8ah8wn7KWXsJaygksIKAQgcZHdZXPLV4E7MM9lIQTjSg0CjGOC26_t45Xx6niA_UDPFgqiBus-tuBYHScQsqflVuwnlrrGIGsQkPLPJ0AyIwAkDTdlyFbCkpNlwtvMo2BJiuZJWA/s1600-h/dsc01771.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393598595315834402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpa8ah8wn7KWXsJaygksIKAQgcZHdZXPLV4E7MM9lIQTjSg0CjGOC26_t45Xx6niA_UDPFgqiBus-tuBYHScQsqflVuwnlrrGIGsQkPLPJ0AyIwAkDTdlyFbCkpNlwtvMo2BJiuZJWA/s320/dsc01771.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">" However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do you if you do not act upon them? “<br /></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">Siddhārtha Gautama</span></strong> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-72433112640807598752009-10-17T08:18:00.003+02:002009-10-17T08:20:57.977+02:00Don´t analyze and don´t except.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-8x6fXBak9ATMcc3u9Y8b1drHd-0zrkClg_QQJ6bNB9v6zMA_ljhmqjP7mTfLyMnckvwz3JQ-L4TbUzyNng-XUGyhP2-DZhIVgEODwxJlRIP7rh2EODFtyq-h3D6J-Z9bg4_CnYjKQ/s1600-h/7820_128764687733_664992733_2605009_3123573_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393450061822944914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-8x6fXBak9ATMcc3u9Y8b1drHd-0zrkClg_QQJ6bNB9v6zMA_ljhmqjP7mTfLyMnckvwz3JQ-L4TbUzyNng-XUGyhP2-DZhIVgEODwxJlRIP7rh2EODFtyq-h3D6J-Z9bg4_CnYjKQ/s320/7820_128764687733_664992733_2605009_3123573_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.luvvbuggblog.com/post/102995218/you-may-not-be-her-first-her-last-or-her-only"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;">“</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"> You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there. "<br />—<br />Bob Marley</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-89294344944544424372009-10-16T14:52:00.001+02:002009-10-16T14:54:35.884+02:00Recuperação da Alma.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjUkzLHRZJohVzZRCFH3nyGvASkC-mlh1L-E9yFxmsk6Kyf9OuAUouiYTR9dfzfz1V227d8Cywh3vU3D30b7lVCVopjqkwhSIDzWbYGckBZ8N1_roqn2s-vY3KynsjPmCTkU5Nt6BbA/s1600-h/gWmuoV8erpj84bjgrNYTtvsQo1_500.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393180385838116514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjUkzLHRZJohVzZRCFH3nyGvASkC-mlh1L-E9yFxmsk6Kyf9OuAUouiYTR9dfzfz1V227d8Cywh3vU3D30b7lVCVopjqkwhSIDzWbYGckBZ8N1_roqn2s-vY3KynsjPmCTkU5Nt6BbA/s320/gWmuoV8erpj84bjgrNYTtvsQo1_500.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;">Quando a uma árvore são cortados os ramos da copa, vão-lhe nascendo mais perto da raiz novos rebentos. Do mesmo modo, também as almas que ao despontar adoecem e quase fenecem regressam frequentemente à primavera dos sentimentos, à apreensiva infãncia onde tudo começa, como se aí pudessem encontrar novas esperanças e reatar o fio condutor da vida que antes fora quebrado. Os rebentos que brotaram perto das raízes anseiam por uma rápida ascensão, mas tudo não passa de uma ilusão, pois nunca a partir deles se voltará a desenvolver uma verdadeira árvore.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;">Hermann Hesse, in "Hans"</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-35013465422491219512009-10-15T16:12:00.002+02:002009-10-15T16:17:12.790+02:00And I wonder?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPvKEjRuyZKlng4ChJ48jaAaEpRfT91BV0M9GKYnEaBGEBp74xh6_nDRrSsV4XOQlOsKcbyxKFKzm84b7YFLT3OAJ9BDFZwwANnp8uV78HLsloChLFngppY_HiABnO3Wtyn_CT9Z7tA/s1600-h/dsc01747.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392830073090849970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPvKEjRuyZKlng4ChJ48jaAaEpRfT91BV0M9GKYnEaBGEBp74xh6_nDRrSsV4XOQlOsKcbyxKFKzm84b7YFLT3OAJ9BDFZwwANnp8uV78HLsloChLFngppY_HiABnO3Wtyn_CT9Z7tA/s320/dsc01747.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;"><strong>The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be.<br /><br />Marcel Pagnol</strong></span> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-48262073141725801422009-10-15T15:46:00.001+02:002009-10-15T15:48:19.441+02:00Almost there.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wQosApZylf4m7176bXH0vPiqqhCR4cTnCAZSigkXLaXipP_PWpiRobH1RetC7yPO8YNdbEtzrX1hiEqgF4tyI89RHjn-unv_YIZKQ3zAm8qYQMWW6d3_8LlelDTGZOdk8GhnlGagiw/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392823150692460242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wQosApZylf4m7176bXH0vPiqqhCR4cTnCAZSigkXLaXipP_PWpiRobH1RetC7yPO8YNdbEtzrX1hiEqgF4tyI89RHjn-unv_YIZKQ3zAm8qYQMWW6d3_8LlelDTGZOdk8GhnlGagiw/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.“</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">— Jonathan Safran</span></strong> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-56708464749206593342009-10-15T15:45:00.002+02:002009-10-15T15:46:33.843+02:00My love.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuAW2xWxrc2Oy18D3mFtlwtB7ozzP2IYUr8MXuBEv9v9GNrJMUm9fK_n29LavXWDTowC-T5deiD7Z6fOGIA9t99Ji35DvAjM4hEmBUaQ7tyqnPT6IChUdr4RKWWbuIsMMsKGygPFpeg/s1600-h/dsc01947.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392822597853269138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuAW2xWxrc2Oy18D3mFtlwtB7ozzP2IYUr8MXuBEv9v9GNrJMUm9fK_n29LavXWDTowC-T5deiD7Z6fOGIA9t99Ji35DvAjM4hEmBUaQ7tyqnPT6IChUdr4RKWWbuIsMMsKGygPFpeg/s320/dsc01947.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">I know you think of me as just a friend, and that crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you’d ever consider. But I have to say it… I can’t stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can’t look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can’t talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are.“</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">— Chasing Amy</span></strong> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-13492335329878426872009-10-15T15:43:00.001+02:002009-10-15T15:44:58.899+02:00Unconditional love.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvAkUrKcQqW14cyetHPvigjFbYhvv3O4FjBz4nNerIASDPb-TnjzmmS-7rCcnbMwvMRNQowdeHZIpWOR5IdbJd0XWmwjaIiUC74P7ibGW0LxgLAfnG3yGJzY6EpFpQQDZ6DbMUkAoyQ/s1600-h/Travessia+nos+bons+sinais.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392822312747767698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvAkUrKcQqW14cyetHPvigjFbYhvv3O4FjBz4nNerIASDPb-TnjzmmS-7rCcnbMwvMRNQowdeHZIpWOR5IdbJd0XWmwjaIiUC74P7ibGW0LxgLAfnG3yGJzY6EpFpQQDZ6DbMUkAoyQ/s320/Travessia+nos+bons+sinais.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"><strong>They give their hearts to each other unconditionally… That’s what true love really is. It’s not this fairy tale life that never knows pain, but it’s two souls facing it together and diminishing it with unconditional love.“</strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"><strong>— One Tree Hill</strong></span> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-21423722593899227452009-10-15T15:40:00.001+02:002009-10-15T15:43:26.094+02:00So true...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaO7FzuEkJfQDA28HVMqUUbMY65eUres7XwtOed5aGcrw_wdng5OJ_EA-hJOlnl7lMP4LxYy_7TwODoi1V0h40dgadpJVs4nYCyDPkLPCfX_AS738SmReBjgHNcgDidST0ZLwXhSnc_w/s1600-h/Tendas.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392821692730434802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaO7FzuEkJfQDA28HVMqUUbMY65eUres7XwtOed5aGcrw_wdng5OJ_EA-hJOlnl7lMP4LxYy_7TwODoi1V0h40dgadpJVs4nYCyDPkLPCfX_AS738SmReBjgHNcgDidST0ZLwXhSnc_w/s320/Tendas.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">Finding someone isn’t about trying to transform yourself into the perfect image of what you think they want. It’s about being exactly who you are and then finding a person who appreciates that.“</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">Unknown</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-69278144138793094332009-09-20T13:15:00.001+02:002009-09-20T13:16:59.969+02:00One of those days.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jqY9os0Or9Rf685Tuu07uzxG6tDMCzgBebeI3CZQfvJaAR9XdW4d8sNC3HTjODaMcaKM53Ies2SUWiPRUf4-Upydosw4ZKdMdFmGyLNDJwlR4LuSMb2n7wiV_B_AwZGm-mwBvqAGcQ/s1600-h/IMG_0609.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383507047394651538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jqY9os0Or9Rf685Tuu07uzxG6tDMCzgBebeI3CZQfvJaAR9XdW4d8sNC3HTjODaMcaKM53Ies2SUWiPRUf4-Upydosw4ZKdMdFmGyLNDJwlR4LuSMb2n7wiV_B_AwZGm-mwBvqAGcQ/s320/IMG_0609.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">"You never know the biggest day of your life is the biggest day. Not until it's happening. You don't recognize the biggest day of your life, not until you're right in the middle of it. The day you commit to something or someone. The day you get your heart broken. The day you meet your soul mate. The day you realize there's not enough time, because you wanna live forever. Those are the biggest days. The perfect days."</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">Grey's Anatomy</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-49900891023376539462009-09-16T20:52:00.001+02:002009-09-16T20:54:38.000+02:00The family.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhct4KFhdpHpazTFJdGSn0cgDqJtPlFMleNMdcCZ46r1WejLAiiAnG-Xg8xNdcwiEkb47V39CnRsO6Y4-xfjKGKiepfU2s_UIHInH5-ZuVyA66KTHxqzZuDRwUNA4-jS2OG_BGuvAHqow/s1600-h/DSC_0199.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382140541280885490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhct4KFhdpHpazTFJdGSn0cgDqJtPlFMleNMdcCZ46r1WejLAiiAnG-Xg8xNdcwiEkb47V39CnRsO6Y4-xfjKGKiepfU2s_UIHInH5-ZuVyA66KTHxqzZuDRwUNA4-jS2OG_BGuvAHqow/s320/DSC_0199.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">The most important thing in life is your family. There are days you love them, and others you don’t. But, in the end, they’re the people you always come home to. Sometimes it’s the family you’re born into and sometimes it’s the one you make for yourself.</span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-6414115029169108802009-09-13T08:30:00.000+02:002009-09-13T08:31:07.809+02:00Love a lot.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQc8P2UTbErTHFymKtu0N-6QUVJ5BZxZgtOHuGCaKxeagWp8W_Raj_Mpev6pVMv17pLbW6bSRurIg9KAVKVCoEEeWxP5dbc_JJf_2Jh4FraShYH6n-160yR6Z8rAHB-EHROULRI8eEw/s1600-h/IMG_1315.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380835791817235186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQc8P2UTbErTHFymKtu0N-6QUVJ5BZxZgtOHuGCaKxeagWp8W_Raj_Mpev6pVMv17pLbW6bSRurIg9KAVKVCoEEeWxP5dbc_JJf_2Jh4FraShYH6n-160yR6Z8rAHB-EHROULRI8eEw/s320/IMG_1315.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater…The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that’s the key. It’s like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"></span><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></div></span></strong><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#006600;">— Sarah Dessen</span></strong> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-25866246131150232492009-09-13T08:28:00.001+02:002009-09-13T08:29:57.807+02:00Heart things.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTgalDvGSORz6YU0dC-gd7sAXJCfWRd1ckPfppkJmjS2V29CDUETvyTkAmD0MxaPesgsB9en6UB3JvvrkkGZco2Wnzb3U5QDx-g2t-zmcB1QPfO1wwEu9HT8BnMnYwu9F3wxzP6dg6w/s1600-h/gemeos+mamando.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380835486177865410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTgalDvGSORz6YU0dC-gd7sAXJCfWRd1ckPfppkJmjS2V29CDUETvyTkAmD0MxaPesgsB9en6UB3JvvrkkGZco2Wnzb3U5QDx-g2t-zmcB1QPfO1wwEu9HT8BnMnYwu9F3wxzP6dg6w/s320/gemeos+mamando.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">You can’t control when you lose your heart. The only thing you can do is trust, trust that the person who has your heart realizes it’s value.“</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">— Grey’s Anatomy</span></strong> </div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-39912545842296618262009-09-13T08:26:00.001+02:002009-09-13T08:28:17.903+02:00So true...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXxp459TNEBmC8WWpaBPX1xLPqxrvJpxbUAkLGupwRNDSFRkzzZGamn0964IkuZiEFmoDkSaegoSPoIHn6OuKMB2H8jVG-NtiMDLbm7R_wt21vtN76PJA_izk2ohAJOH28u0vYOC34A/s1600-h/1[1].+Miudo+em+Charre.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380835044770846338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXxp459TNEBmC8WWpaBPX1xLPqxrvJpxbUAkLGupwRNDSFRkzzZGamn0964IkuZiEFmoDkSaegoSPoIHn6OuKMB2H8jVG-NtiMDLbm7R_wt21vtN76PJA_izk2ohAJOH28u0vYOC34A/s320/1%5B1%5D.+Miudo+em+Charre.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"><strong>A maior desgraça de uma nação pobre é que em vez de produzir riqueza, produz ricos. Mas ricos sem riqueza. Na realidade, melhor seria chama-los não de ricos mas de endinheirados.<br />Rico é quem possui meios de produção. Rico é quem gera dinheiro e dá emprego.<br />Endinheirado é quem simplesmente tem dinheiro, ou que pensa que tem. Porque, na realidade, o dinheiro é que o tem a ele.<br />A verdade é esta: são demasiados pobres os nossos "ricos".<br />Aquilo que têm, não detém. Pior: aquilo que exibem como seu, é propriedade de outros.<br />É produto de roubo e de negociatas.<br />Não podem, porém, estes nossos endinheirados usufruir em tranquilidade de tudo quanto roubaram. Vivem na obsessão de poderem ser roubados.<br />Necessitavam de forças policiais à altura. Mas forças policiais à altura acabariam por lança-los a eles próprios na cadeia.<br />Necessitavam de uma ordem social em que houvesse poucas razões para a criminalidade. Mas se eles enriqueceram foi graças a essa mesma desordem (...)</strong></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"><strong>Mia Couto</strong></span></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5855723486607494496.post-77420585448206391372009-09-08T17:56:00.002+02:002009-09-08T18:00:37.449+02:00The way it is.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Fh5xOfYmVdzb1bLcywPzxQJEs9VqD_xQT691UiXWhuVUx2vp-Tz80kJjvWiWqdLxb-BqrUzPe7NqbQZ1HHonCvtg94RhBEVE-7qtBWOy2HKxbuS_cV01tJ9nPRzYiLA6QsVZjsvj2A/s1600-h/2[1].+Mulher+em+Charre.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379127074379487858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Fh5xOfYmVdzb1bLcywPzxQJEs9VqD_xQT691UiXWhuVUx2vp-Tz80kJjvWiWqdLxb-BqrUzPe7NqbQZ1HHonCvtg94RhBEVE-7qtBWOy2HKxbuS_cV01tJ9nPRzYiLA6QsVZjsvj2A/s320/2%5B1%5D.+Mulher+em+Charre.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"><span style="color:#006600;">Encanto</span>. <span style="color:#000099;">É esta a palavra que és para mim.</span></span></strong></div>PrimaNoctehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10386282406393972745noreply@blogger.com0