<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:15:43.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Suflet albastru</title><subtitle type='html'>,,Destinul este drumul pe care in construiesti catre cel pe care il iubesti''</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-4016988051266152405</id><published>2009-08-31T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T11:58:45.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-fb5e378c6d83d0d6" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" 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href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/4016988051266152405/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/4016988051266152405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/4016988051266152405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-3047396166173177841</id><published>2009-08-06T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T10:56:47.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>picteaza-ma...picteaza-ma in cuvinte iubitule...&lt;br /&gt;rosteste-ma...rosteste-ma in culori...&lt;br /&gt;scrie-ma...scrie-ma cu lacrimi amare pe petale de trandafir...&lt;br /&gt;...iubitule&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-3047396166173177841?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/3047396166173177841/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/picteaza-ma.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3047396166173177841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3047396166173177841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/picteaza-ma.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-1436178605717780420</id><published>2009-08-01T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:27:13.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'>un altfel de luceafar</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Semi-obscur….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Soapte…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Avida dupa cea mai mica picatura de apa, isi intinse bratele osoase cu venele vizibile prin carnea-i tremurand de frica. Isi intinse bratele pe podeaua rece si goala catre cartea cu file rupte si mototolite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Ea : Asta sa fie tot ?sa nu pot aduce inapoi imaginile pentru ca mi-am distrus trecutul ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Soapte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Clantzanit de dinti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Ea : Adu-mi un pahar cu apa, te rog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;El : Un drum prea lung pana la fantana, esti sigura ca nu te pierzi ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Lumina lunii.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Fereastra mare incadreaza aproape toata camera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Ea : Daca ma ascund aici si incerc sa nu-mi amintesc ce pasi vei face pana la ea, probabil ca nu ma vei gasi moarta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Imgini. Franturi. Clipe colorate. Clipe alb-negru. Tot ce a facut a adus-o aici. Acum era vremea sa isi infrunte fantasmele. Pasii Lui scoteau sunete asurzitoare prin iarba de afara. Le simtea directia si isi acoperi urechile care sangerau pe covorul alb. Murea incet prin pasii lui care se indepartau. Ea a stiut asta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Intuneric.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Cantecul tarziu al greierilor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; vine langa Ea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Zambea. Un fir de par rosu si lung ii atarna pe bratul ce-i acoperea sanul gol. Era rece. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Plangea. O lacrima ii inghetase pe obrazul drept iar ochii intunecati il priveau fix si acuzator.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Il acuza de nemurire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Un puzzle fara piese intr-o fractiune de clipa fara durata reala in spatiul fizic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Isi aprise o tigara. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Fumul ii acoperise in prima instanta chipul ei de ceara. O vedea parca zambind. A incercat sa moara cu ea candva, dar moartea nu ii aducea nici o satisfactie, ar fi fost blestemat sa fie departe de sufletul ei insetat. Insetat ca in aceste cateva momente inainte de moarte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Privi cerul. Peretii disparusera. Stelele ii acopereau. Sangele ei nu mai pata covorul alb. Lacrima nu mai stralucea pe obraz. Avea ochii inchisi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Intunecat, alerga…alerga intr-un alt colt, care sa-l scape de durere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;O va uita, in firescul uman pe care tanjea atat de mult sa-l accepte. El, care nu era om, isi ura conditia goala si surda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Va privi o vesnicie de departe lumea cum se schimba, secole cum se scurg, chipurile cum se nasc si mor, cum se schimba si se schimonosesc. Nemiscat. Neobservat de ignorantii fara chipuri. Zambind rece si privind o singura stea. Pe Ea…mereu mai sus, mereu departe, mereu nemuritoare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-1436178605717780420?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/1436178605717780420/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/semi-obscur.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1436178605717780420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1436178605717780420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/semi-obscur.html' title='un altfel de luceafar'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-197060785925397774</id><published>2009-08-01T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T03:07:41.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cand pana o ia razna</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/veks/5f11694e253b96.swf"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/veks/5f11694e253b96.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chopin - Nocturne&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;golul din piept&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;e un ecou de film mut&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;rosu si negru&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;fara alb.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;pasesc pe varfuri pe clapele&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;unui pian vechi&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si unghiile rosii mi-au intrat in carne.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;vechi si trist, dezacordat si patetic&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;rasuna in podul casei noastre.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;imi strang mijlocul&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;cu o funda care sa mi-l invarteasca&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;prin campul de maci.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;am vazut pe ferastra fluturi&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si m-am speriat.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;de tine.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;ma intreb cati maci imi vei da&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;pe drumul catre mare.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;pentru ca mi-ai oferit un pumn cu fluturi colorati&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;pe care i-am inghitit in mine.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si cand ne vom intalni in paris&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;sa te iau de mana&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si sa dansam in ploaie.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;iar picaturile sa le transformam&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;in soapte de iubire&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;pe note de Chopin.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-197060785925397774?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/197060785925397774/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/cand-pana-o-ia-razna.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/197060785925397774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/197060785925397774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/cand-pana-o-ia-razna.html' title='cand pana o ia razna'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-3846681349135438273</id><published>2009-08-01T13:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:34:58.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSm7ahvgQI/AAAAAAAAANE/ERogigvJRcQ/s1600-h/roses_mica.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSm7ahvgQI/AAAAAAAAANE/ERogigvJRcQ/s320/roses_mica.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365096595768443138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;ti-ai imaginat vreodata petalele unui trandafir acoperindu-ti trupul gol?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;sau catifeaua lor sorbindu-ti dimineata buzele odata cu cafeaua amara?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;le-ai auzit vreodata soaptele suspinand dupa saruturi mici si marunte?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;i-ai mangaiat vreodata diafan atunci cand petalele le cadeau oarbe si avide de iubire pe podeaua de ceara?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;ai crezut vreodata in ei?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;sau i-ai uitat acolo, intr-un colt al mintii, sperand ca reflectia din oglinda Albei ca Zapada sa dispara?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-3846681349135438273?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/3846681349135438273/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/ti-ai-imaginat-vreodata-petalele-unui.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3846681349135438273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3846681349135438273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/ti-ai-imaginat-vreodata-petalele-unui.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSm7ahvgQI/AAAAAAAAANE/ERogigvJRcQ/s72-c/roses_mica.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-1750976839964150394</id><published>2009-08-01T13:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:37:24.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sinfonia clipelor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSnfg7_SBI/AAAAAAAAANM/wzzShjbpLSw/s1600-h/orele.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSnfg7_SBI/AAAAAAAAANM/wzzShjbpLSw/s320/orele.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365097215964432402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a rel="attachment wp-att-117" href="http://albacazapada.wordpress.com/2007/06/14/orele/117/" title="orele.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dimineata, roua rece de argint&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;isi depune doua aripi pastelate&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;sufocand buzele mate&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;otravindu-le cu-absint.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Si se scurg peste secunde&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si te fac sa uiti de noi&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;asteptand in graba ploi&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;din dorinta de-a ma prinde.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dimineata te transformi&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;in acel zmeu de hartie&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;care-mi zice numai mie&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;ca in clipe nu mai dormi.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Capturand clipa cantata&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;in fotografii alb-negru,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;ardem temerile-n cedru&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; fredonand tina cerata.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Unde se duc clipele atunci cand noi parasim prezentul ca sa ne ascundem in clipe faurite impreuna? mor sau invata sa ne gaseasca in visele noastre? Unde pot sta ca sa le strig si sa ma gaseasca?sa le absorb si sa le cant la pian?imi place sa fug desculta de ele, sa ma ascund si sa astept cuminte sa ma gaseasca. Poate ca fac asta pentru ca sunt dependenta de drogul visarii. Ma razvratesc de cele mai multe ori, ma lupt cu mine si &lt;strong&gt;reusesc sa le prind intr-un borcanel si apoi sa ma ghemuiesc intre maci si sa le dau drumul.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-1750976839964150394?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/1750976839964150394/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/dimineata-roua-rece-de-argint-isi.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1750976839964150394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1750976839964150394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/dimineata-roua-rece-de-argint-isi.html' title='sinfonia clipelor'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSnfg7_SBI/AAAAAAAAANM/wzzShjbpLSw/s72-c/orele.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-3517461181714784981</id><published>2009-08-01T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:38:10.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>note irlandeze:X</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSnrujToyI/AAAAAAAAANU/qBba4hXV2pM/s1600-h/uuu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSnrujToyI/AAAAAAAAANU/qBba4hXV2pM/s320/uuu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365097425777435426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a rel="attachment wp-att-124" href="http://albacazapada.wordpress.com/2007/06/16/traiesc-o-opera-de-arta/124/" title="uuu.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema crede..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema viseaza..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema simte..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema iubeste..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema plange singura…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema vrea..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema te asteapta intr-o lume nebuna..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema se roaga..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema te cheama..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema s-a pierdut..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema a murit…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Ema este o femeie pe care multe femei puternice o suprima in sine. Ema a avut curajul sa creada in ea si sa vrea sa fie iubita. Ema a avut curajul sa creada ca visele pot deveni realitate. Ema a pornit la lupta. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Dincolo de ceea ce a scandalizat societatea, nimeni nu i-a vazut strigatul interior, desi majoritatea femeilor se regasesc in chemarile ei inerioare. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Nu e vorba despre sex, sau adulter. E vorba despre emotii, despre iubire, despre o world o fairies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;De ce sa para atat de greu sa accepti ca vrei totul? Uneori facem « greseala » de a trece peste principiile noastre, doar pentru a putea privi printr-o crapatura de gard la ceea ce doar visam. Am folosit ghilimele pentru ca asa percepem de multe ori ceea ce e prea departe de noi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Cred in faptul ca pot ajunge cat de sus vreau, atata vreme cat am iubirea vietii mele langa mine. Mi-a fost greu sa o gasesc. A trebuit sa nu renunt in ciuda contuziilor care se iveau pe drum si ma loveau sufleteste. Dar acum simt ca pot ajunge pana la Luna si inapoi daca zboara alaturi de mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Am curajul sa ii cer totul, pentru ca ii dau totul…..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Si nu ma voi schimba, asa cum iti este teama tie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Nu am fantome in piept. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Tot ce vreau e sa imbatraim impreuna. Nimic nu m-ar putea face sa vreau altceva.Nu as putea nicicand sa schimb panza pe care ne tzesem acum visele cu fir aurit. Aripile care mi-au crescut prin piele imi dau forta si viata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Dulce e miezul in care ne frangem visele si ne ghemuim ca niste stele cu lumina de aur. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Dulce e clipa in care ne atingem inimile in sir de margaritare…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Dulci mi-au fost chemarile, atata vreme cat ti-am creionat chipul in vis si te-am chemat la mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;De ce crezi ca m-ai intalnit ?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Caut emotii, nu privelisti. In nucleul meu sunt o sentimentala, nu o artista. Uneori as vrea ca viata mea sa fie un roman, un film sau o biografie deja scrisa, bogata in detalii, interpretari si momente interesante. Caut mai mult decat ceea ce voi gasi vreodata, pentru ca daca viata ar fi fost la fel de frumoasa ca un roman, atunci romanele nu s-ar mai scrie. As vrea sa traiesc o opera de arta. As vrea sa se auda muzica pe fundalul unei plimbari pe strada Pacii. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;As vrea sa ma vad stand in pat din unghiuri inedite ale camerei. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;As vrea ca filmul sa fie vechi si culorile fade si proiectorul sa se intrerupa din cand in cand atunci cand stau singura pe faleza pustie contemplandu-mi nefericirea momentana. As vrea ca naratorul sa imi descrie in detalii inelele de pe degete si buclele negre ce stralucesc in lumina soarelui de iunie. As vrea sa fiu un personaj, nu o persoana. Caut arta si frumusete in existenta mea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;Daca imi voi continua cautarea, voi muri devreme, ca Emma. Dar daca incetez, ce sens mai are sa traiesc?  – Madame Bovary din mine inainte sa imi pictez lumea alaturi de tine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;..o melodie ca o soapta..frumos final, plin de melancolia unei chemari si unei cautari de sine…note irlandeze…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-3517461181714784981?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/3517461181714784981/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/note-irlandezex.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3517461181714784981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3517461181714784981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/note-irlandezex.html' title='note irlandeze:X'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSnrujToyI/AAAAAAAAANU/qBba4hXV2pM/s72-c/uuu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-951996427943875493</id><published>2009-08-01T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:08:30.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>asera te-am visat...ma plimbam pe malul lacului de langa castel...:)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Dragul meu,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;ti scriu de departe stiind ca imi auzi respiratia noaptea, surasul ziua si visele zgomotoase si colorate atunci cand mergi pe strada incruntat si serios, uitand sa vezi lumea de afara. M-am gandit azi la noi, asa cum nu gasim niciodata momentul pe axa timpului sa existam. Mi-am pus pelerina in jurul umerilor mici si m-am plimbat pe malul lacului de langa castel, am urmat pasii pe care i-am creionat amandoi cu cateva secole in urma, cand eu faceam vraji si tu m-ai salvat din mainile lor. Mi-am privit chipul in apa nemiscata ca o oglinda fidela si nu mi-am recunoscut ochii mari si incercanati, buzele palide…un chip fantomatic, asa cum l-ai lasat sa devina atunci cand ai plecat si m-ai lasat in urma ta. Iti vine sa crezi ca stiu unde te afli ? tot acest timp am incercat sa devin una din eroinele fiecarei creatii romanesti pe care am citit-o din biblioteca imensa si veche, am incercat sa adun puterea dupa faramele de fericire zilnica pe care mi-am permis sa le gust cu inocenta unui copil fragil. Ti-am citit cuvintele nescrise pe aripile ranite si sangerande ale vantului care batea spre est. Le-am prins asa cum prinzi fluturii galbeni in august..le-am prins pe deget si le-am sarutat aripile arse de soare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Dragul meu, crezi ca vom mai atinge vreodata acele corzi tacute care s-au infiripat in trupurile noastre in timp ce ne iubeam pierzandu-ne in noapte ? Crezi ca daca m-ai gasit o data, mi-ai putea simti pasii usori atunci cand ma strecor langa tine si iti cuprind chipul in gand, mangaindu-ti tamplele, sarutandu-ti pleoapele grele si soptindu-ti cuvinte de dragoste ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Dragul meu, mor in fiecare zi departe de tine, mor pe frunzele verzi, pe valurile furioase, mor pe roua fiecarei dimineti si in glasul fiecarui pescarus. Dar sunt fericita ca esti in mine si nu sunt singura. Stiu ca voi deschide intr-o dimineata ochii si te voi gasi inconjurandu-mi mijlocul cu bratul greu, iti voi simti respiratia pe san si iti voi auzi bataile ritmice ale inimii. Stiu ca atata timp de asteptare merita o clipa de pieire intru noi. In cate decoruri ne vom regasi si in cate clipe de beatitudine ne vom pierde..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-951996427943875493?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/951996427943875493/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/asera-te-am-visatma-plimbam-pe-malul.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/951996427943875493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/951996427943875493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/asera-te-am-visatma-plimbam-pe-malul.html' title='asera te-am visat...ma plimbam pe malul lacului de langa castel...:)'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-1458450174321474313</id><published>2009-08-01T13:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:05:12.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSf9L1LGxI/AAAAAAAAAM8/CI0jlgjWFVc/s1600-h/llcarmen2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSf9L1LGxI/AAAAAAAAAM8/CI0jlgjWFVc/s320/llcarmen2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365088929601755922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mi-am arcuit gatul lung&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si am sculptat clipe;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;le-am prins strans in palma&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;prefacandu-ma ca sunt traite.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Am incercat sa te ating&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;dar ai intors privirea acida&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;de la buzele-mi arse in noapte&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;acoperindu-ma in uitarea rigida.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;talpile mi-au pasit aproape&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si am atins cioburi si piele;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;degetele au mangaiat uitarea&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;cuvintele-au cazut in miere.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;poate ca rochita de batist&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;nu imi acopera saruturile tale&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si ca o adolescenta speriata&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;ma ascund de gandurile goale.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Voi sparge portelanul privirii mute&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;care ma farmeca in vis&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;si voi innebuni in tine&lt;/p&gt; dupa ce inocenta mi-ai fi prins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-1458450174321474313?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/1458450174321474313/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/mi-am-arcuit-gatul-lung-si-am-sculptat.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1458450174321474313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1458450174321474313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/mi-am-arcuit-gatul-lung-si-am-sculptat.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSf9L1LGxI/AAAAAAAAAM8/CI0jlgjWFVc/s72-c/llcarmen2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-7803758477591219830</id><published>2009-08-01T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T13:01:13.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>un vis ....:)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Lantishorul de argint s-a innegrit….ti l-am scos de la gat si acum l-ai parasit langa laptop, lasandu-l sa isi piarda stralucirea.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Cafelele pe care le-am facut dimineata s-au racit asteptandu-ne buzele insetate de viata.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Patul are urmele noastre..inca te vad tinandu-ma in brate si leganandu-mi visele si joaca degetelor pe pieptul tau…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Am asteptat dimineata sa iti spun ca te iubesc, pentru ca noaptea mi-am pierdut umbra in interiorul tau si respiram prin plamanii tai avizi dupa adierea marina a atingerilor noastre intr-un viitor liber…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Atingerea talpilor noastre in pat m-a nelinistit si m-a adus mai aproape de tine, de siguranta bratelor si inima in care m-am scufundat cu un suras fericit.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Ai plecat sa imi cumperi Rafaelo si ce am nevoie pentru trenul din seara asta..trenul care ma va duce iarasi departe de tine un timp…Dar stiu ca trebuie sa te intorci…stiu ca vei veni la mine.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Zilele astea am impartasit alte clipe care au mai tzesut cu fir de matase cateva randuri din povestea noastra de vis…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Voi mai astepta..mai avem atat de putin….&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Voi mai astepta pentru ca ne-am asteptat unul pe altul atata vreme….&lt;/p&gt; Se aude cheia in usa….te-ai intors la mine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-7803758477591219830?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/7803758477591219830/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/un-vis.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7803758477591219830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7803758477591219830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/un-vis.html' title='un vis ....:)'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-2076922176619325742</id><published>2009-08-01T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T12:59:14.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSeizTaFwI/AAAAAAAAAM0/BUC9hFtdbPg/s1600-h/where-is-the-love-.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSeizTaFwI/AAAAAAAAAM0/BUC9hFtdbPg/s320/where-is-the-love-.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365087376829454082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;imi aduc aminte ce simteam azi cand stateam intinsa si priveam adancul unor ochi de catifea verde…imi aduc aminte amestecul de fericire cu tristete, de lacrimi cu dulceata sarutului dinainte, de visare cu nelinistea incomensurabila care imi consuma puterea de a ma bucura de moment……imi aduc aminte de picioarele noastre incolacite….imi aduc aminte fiecare cuvant si mi-as fi dorit sa pot opri timpul. mereu ma razboiesc cu timpul, mereu gaseste o cale sa imi taie pielea fina. nu ii pot accepta fuga cinica si taioasa. sunt importante momentele de fericire dar cotele maxime de intensitate devin gigante in sufletul meu…caut perfectiunea tocmai pentru ca stiu ca e trecatoare clipa pentru care ne cream un pygmalion modelat cu palmele deschise si ranite. imi aduc atat de bine aminte fiecare clipa perfecta in care am sculptat mii de diamante ce imi frang acum inima…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-2076922176619325742?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/2076922176619325742/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/imi-aduc-aminte-ce-simteam-azi-cand.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/2076922176619325742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/2076922176619325742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/imi-aduc-aminte-ce-simteam-azi-cand.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSeizTaFwI/AAAAAAAAAM0/BUC9hFtdbPg/s72-c/where-is-the-love-.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-3372718076138874068</id><published>2009-08-01T12:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T12:56:24.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSddq2pJwI/AAAAAAAAAMs/IR0JAOyiDzc/s1600-h/a53.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSddq2pJwI/AAAAAAAAAMs/IR0JAOyiDzc/s320/a53.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365086189150349058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:7;"  &gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Ce culoare au ochii tai? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;sopti &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;ea timida, incercand sa-i priveasca magnetica liniste a privirii mereu triste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:7;"  &gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Nu inteleg ce importanta ar avea…rosti el incurcat de o intrebare atat de simpla. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Suntem in sfarsit fata in fata, ii poti privi si tu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Intinse degetele fierbinti catre chipul ei oval ca de portelan, dar nu indrazni sa ii atinga pielea perfecta ca fildeshul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:7;"  &gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Vreau sa imi spui tu…eu ma pierd in ei…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Cand am inchis ochii si picaturile de ploaie calda de vara mi-au acoperit pleoapele, m-am pierdut in vartejul magic, care ma tragea orgasmatic in mii de bucatele de oglinda opaca. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Cand inchid ochii, ei sunt verzi precum visele dantelate de pe marginea clapelor pianului. Cand visez cu inocenta unei copile ce-si petrece dimineata in hamac citind cuminte, am ochii albastri si transparenti, neatinsi de pensula umeda si groasa a emotiilor straine de lumea din mine. Cand imi dezlantui inima si dansez cu pasiunea de mana, inclestandu-mi degetele in pielea spatelui tau si modelandu-mi corpul de plastilina dupa forma pulsului tau nebunesc, am ochii negri si greu de patruns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Imi este vital sa te privesc in ochi si sa ma regasesc acolo, timida si feminina, ascunzand un spirit liber ca de foc. Imi este vital sa citesc in priviri sentimente si emotii, imagini si ganduri ce vor a fi ascunse. Imi place sa transmit iubire pe sub pleoapele ca doua aripi de fluture.Imi place sa fixez cerul si sa ii fur infinitul intr-un graunte de nor pe care sa il imortalizez in culoarea ochilor mei. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;Vreau sa te privesc pentru prima data si ochii sa iti spuna cat te iubesc….fara cuvinte, fara banalitatea unor fraze pe care poate le retraiesti de mii de ori gandindu-te la noi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Microsoft Sans Serif';"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- Ce culoare au ochii tai, iubitule ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-3372718076138874068?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/3372718076138874068/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/ce-culoare-au-ochii-tai-sopti-ea-timida.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3372718076138874068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3372718076138874068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/ce-culoare-au-ochii-tai-sopti-ea-timida.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSddq2pJwI/AAAAAAAAAMs/IR0JAOyiDzc/s72-c/a53.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-478472796755400004</id><published>2009-08-01T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T12:48:17.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 255, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Inceputurile si sfarsiturile sunt in acelasi timp cele mai frumoase si cele mai dificile perioade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Inceputurile pe care le amani cu un gol in stomac si sfarsiturile pe care le astepti numarand secundele constituie o sursa de frustrare emotionala, ce se inflitreaza in toate actiunile, relatiile sau activitatile de zi cu zi. Mentii o stare de insatisfactie neorgasmatica, ce creste pulsul si sensibilizeaza emotivitatea, acutizand nelinistea care plange in piept.Resimt greutatea de a sfarsi o viata de 20 de ani si de a rupe repede o panza noua in care sa ma integrez, cu usurinta unei non-culori. Respir greu un aer caruia stiu ca nu-i voi mai apartine dintr-odata si resping brutal si convulsiv imaginile celor care, in mod inconstient, trag de mine lasand rani deschise in inima.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;In alta ordine de idei…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Inceputurile pe care abia astepti sa le prinzi de aripi si sfarsiturile pe care nu vrei sa le mai pierzi sunt o comoara cu energie pozitiva pentru restul…pentru ceea ce ramane intre cele doua coordonate. Viata e in primul rand constituita din « restul ». Imi amintesc fiecare detaliu al momentelor de la inceputul unei iubiri, al primelor priviri si atingeri, al primelor conversatii pasionale….Pot vizualiza cu exactitate prima zi de scoala, gustul primului sarut, sau primul meu dans….Imi aduc aminte golul din stomac atunci cand se sfarseau intalnirile cu iubirea mea si trenul disparand in ceata, ultimii pasi indepartandu-ma de scarile facultatii ….Exista carti ale caror pagini as vrea sa le parcurg toata viata, fara a se termina in vreun moment…intalniri care s-au terminat in 5 minute desi mi s-a parut ca au durat o vesnicie…nopti in care nu am realizat ca&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;rasare soarele….Momente in care as fi vrut sa-l inclestez in bratele mele, sa-l sculptez sau sa-l lipesc in fotografia acelei secunde, sa-l imortalizez in ipostaza care mi-a facut inima sa bata mai repede…Momente pecum acestea, in care ating lucrurile pe care stiu ca le voi parasi, le ating eteric si totusi cu o voluptate avida de viata ce pulseaza in ele…traiesc clipele ce se vor termina in doua saptamani, le voi arunca batista alba si le voi spune « adio »..clipe pe care acum le traiesc cu o intensitate exacerbata…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Unii cauta permanente inceputuri, altii isi amana sfarsiturile..iar altii amana inceputuri si grabesc contorsionati sfarsituri…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ma simt pierduta intr-un spatiu romanesc al unui secol de mult pierdut, din care au ramas un parfum discret si &lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;cateva albume de fotografii alb-negru….Ma simt in acelasi timp atat de fericita ca mi-am gasit calea si incep o viata noua….Prinsa intre vagoanele insangerate ale clipelor ce se zbat in lanturile gandurilor ucigator de nostalgice…Tematoare si emotiva…excesiv de emotiva….Ma poti gasi in sticluta unui parfum, evaporandu-ma sub pleoapele tale atunci cand inchizi ochii sa ii simti aroma, evaporandu-ma in pielea ta ce a atins umezeala jocului, legat la ochi dar cu mainile libere..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ma chinui sa fiu fericita….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ma chinui sa nu mai simt intensitatea clipei..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Ma chinui sa fiu egoista in visarea orizontului pe care am iluzia ca-l voi atinge vreodata….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Melodia aceasta saruta corpul a carui urma parfumata a lasat o amprenta conturata de pasii mei intr-un spatiu ermetic….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-478472796755400004?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/478472796755400004/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/inceputurile-si-sfarsiturile-sunt-in.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/478472796755400004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/478472796755400004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/inceputurile-si-sfarsiturile-sunt-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-7126354086422958150</id><published>2009-08-01T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T12:42:06.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSai3WFeII/AAAAAAAAAMk/0jgUKd6YF0k/s1600-h/broken17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 284px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSai3WFeII/AAAAAAAAAMk/0jgUKd6YF0k/s320/broken17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365082979867916418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dragul meu,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;te astept…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;cat de lunga e o zi in intuneric?sau o saptamana?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;s-a stins focul..si mi-e cumplit de frig.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;chiar trebuie sa ma tarasc afara, dar acolo e soarele.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;mi-e teama ca am risipit lumina pe desene si pe randurile astea.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;murim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;murim imbogatiti cu amanti si triburi, cu gustul celor inghitite, cu trupurile in care am patruns..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;si iesim la suprafata precum raurile,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;temerile in care ne ascundem…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;vreau ca toate acestea sa imi ramana insemnate pe trup.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;noi suntem tarile…nu granitele desenate pe harti…numele oamenilor puternici.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;stiu ca vei veni si ma vei duce in palatul vanturilor…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;e tot ce-mi doresc, sa pasesc intr-un astfel de loc cu tine..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;un Pamant fara harti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;lampa s-a stins, si eu scriu…pe intuneric&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-7126354086422958150?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/7126354086422958150/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/dragul-meu-te-astept-cat-de-lunga-e-o.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7126354086422958150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7126354086422958150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/08/dragul-meu-te-astept-cat-de-lunga-e-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SnSai3WFeII/AAAAAAAAAMk/0jgUKd6YF0k/s72-c/broken17.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-3181343672163580593</id><published>2009-07-19T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T03:13:23.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="448" height="371"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/video/AncKhiy19/aa6eb8c6d96832/0xe9eff4.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/video/AncKhiy19/aa6eb8c6d96832/0xe9eff4.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="371"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lara Fabian - Je t'aime&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TE-ADOR...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Motive sunt,... si-au fost,... de-a nu mai fi,... de a pleca,...&lt;br /&gt;Din cioburi de pahar ne-am fi putut salva,&lt;br /&gt;De-acest amar trecut, tacut,... eu m-am decis,... iti iert,...&lt;br /&gt;Greseli ce-ar fi facut de fapt mai mult sa ne iubim,...&lt;br /&gt;De-acord,... adesea, copilul, fata  din mine se plangea,...&lt;br /&gt;Aproape ca o mama ma-ngradeai si ma pazeai,...&lt;br /&gt;Eu ti-am rapit acest prilej ce n-ar fi trebuit sa-l impartim,...&lt;br /&gt;La capat de puteri,... de-nchipuiri,... eu voi striga... si strig...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te-ador,... te-ador...&lt;br /&gt;Ca un nebun, ca un soldat,&lt;br /&gt;Sau ca un star de cinema...&lt;br /&gt;Te-ador,... te-ador...&lt;br /&gt;Precum un rege sau un lup,&lt;br /&gt;Ca ceea ce nu sunt... ca un barbat,...&lt;br /&gt;Vezi tu ? ... Asa eu te iubesc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De-acord,... toate secretele si intreg surasul, ti le-am dat...&lt;br /&gt;Chiar si pe-acela dintre care, un singur frate e paznic nemarturisit,&lt;br /&gt;Chiar din acest loc de piatra,&lt;br /&gt;Cel Necurat dansand ne vede ne-ncetat...&lt;br /&gt;Mereu o impacare mi-am dorit,... la infinit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te-ador,... te-ador...&lt;br /&gt;Ca un nebun, ca un soldat,&lt;br /&gt;Sau ca un star de cinema...&lt;br /&gt;Te-ador,... te-ador...&lt;br /&gt;Precum un rege sau un lup,&lt;br /&gt;Ca ceea ce nu sunt... ca un barbat,...&lt;br /&gt;Vezi tu ? ... Asa eu te iubesc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te-ador,...te-ador...&lt;br /&gt;Ca un nebun, ca un soldat,&lt;br /&gt;Sau ca un star de cinema...&lt;br /&gt;Te-ador,... te-ador... te-ador,... te-ador... te-ador,... te-ador...&lt;br /&gt;Precum un rege sau un lup,&lt;br /&gt;Ca ceea ce nu sunt... ca un barbat,...&lt;br /&gt;Vezi tu ? ... Asa eu te iubesc...  "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sper ca este buna traducerea:)nu stau foarte bine cu franceza....asa ca imi cer scz pt eventualele greseli:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/video/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-3181343672163580593?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/3181343672163580593/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/lara-fabian-je-t.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3181343672163580593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3181343672163580593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/lara-fabian-je-t.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-6532187751041936310</id><published>2009-07-17T00:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T00:08:16.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dragoste,tu parfum de orhidee...</title><content type='html'>,,eu chiar te-am iubit prostuto'' ;))cuvintele astea  imi aduc un zambet ironic pe buze acum...cand le-ai spus..mi-au adus lacrimi...dar ce rost mai are sa plang?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce sti tu despre mine? ce sti tu despre persoana pe care spui ca ai iubit-o?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sti culoarea mea preferata? sti de ce este ea preferata mea?&lt;br /&gt;Sau mancarea ce-mi place?&lt;br /&gt;Actorul pe care il iubesc?&lt;br /&gt;hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;Poate melodia ce-mi alina sufletul? nu sti?&lt;br /&gt;Dar cea care ma reperezinta cel mai bine?&lt;br /&gt;Sti ce roman ma fascineaza? sau poate volumul preferat de poezii?&lt;br /&gt;Sti ca sunt indragostita de chitara?&lt;br /&gt;Cu singuranta sti ca imi place baletul... nu?&lt;br /&gt;Dar pictorul ale carui lucrari imi aduc un zambet pe buze..il sti?&lt;br /&gt;Sti de ce plang in somn?imi cunosti cel mai negru cosmar? cea mai mare teama?&lt;br /&gt;Dar cea mai arzatoare dorinta? si daca DA mi-ai implini-o?&lt;br /&gt;Te-ai intrebat vreodata ce nume am ales pt bebele nostru?&lt;br /&gt;Dar poate sti basmul meu preferat...&lt;br /&gt;Sti ce-mi aduce zambestul pe buze si-mi umple sufletul de bucurie oricat de suparata sunt?&lt;br /&gt;Sti ca am 5 zambete? de fiecare data o alta experesie ..in functie de situatie?&lt;br /&gt;--cum zambesc pt ca sunt obligata de imprejurari?&lt;br /&gt;--cum zambesc cand ascund ceva?&lt;br /&gt;--cum zambesc cand pun ceva la cale?&lt;br /&gt;-- cum zambesc cand accept a nu mai pot schimba nimic si ma conformez situatiei?&lt;br /&gt;--cum zambesc cand copilul din mine face cate o nazbatie,cand e cu adevarat fericit,cand isi recapata inocenta?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;;)) o sa spui ca nu stiu sa numar.. nu-s 5 ci 6...&lt;br /&gt;ei poate daca m-ai cunoaste ai sti ca eu niciodata nu ma conformez, ca eu niciodata nu accept ca nu mai pot face nimic...ca nu sunt nascuta sa renunt...tot timpul am un plan...o cale de scapare:)&lt;br /&gt;nu sti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ei lasa..poate sti ce flori imi plac?&lt;br /&gt;sau poate sti ca am cele mai bizare pofte din lume..&lt;br /&gt;sti ca imi place cand ma trezesc dimineata cu sarutarile tale,sa stau in bratele tale,sa ma iubesti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinul preferat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sti ca de fiecare data cand spuneam DA o faceam cu toata fiinta mea si in fiecare raspuns  era o particica din sufletul meu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sti cate lucruri nu sti despre mine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinci lucruri,din toate cate sunt...sti despre mine?&lt;br /&gt;Daca DA, atunci restul nu ma intereseaza..iti iert totul:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tu, dragoste,parfum de orhidee:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-6532187751041936310?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/6532187751041936310/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/dragostetu-parfum-de-orhidee.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/6532187751041936310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/6532187751041936310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/dragostetu-parfum-de-orhidee.html' title='Dragoste,tu parfum de orhidee...'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-4161848493791996794</id><published>2009-07-16T07:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:30:16.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: green;"&gt;BĂRBATUL ŞI FEMEIA&lt;br /&gt;(L’homme et la femme)&lt;br /&gt;de Victor Hugo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este cea mai elevată dintre creaturi,&lt;br /&gt;Femeia e cel mai sublim ideal.&lt;br /&gt;Dumnezeu a făcut pentru bărbat un tron,&lt;br /&gt;Pentru femeie – un altar.&lt;br /&gt;Tronul exaltă, altarul sfinţeşte.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul e creierul, femeia e inima.&lt;br /&gt;Creierul primeşte lumina, inima primeşte iubirea.&lt;br /&gt;Lumina fecundează, iubirea reînvie.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este puternic prin raţiune,&lt;br /&gt;Femeia e invincibilă prin lacrimi.&lt;br /&gt;Raţiunea convinge, lacrimile înduioşează sufletul.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este capabil de orice eroism,&lt;br /&gt;Femeia – de orice sacrificiu.&lt;br /&gt;Eroismul înnobilează, sacrificiul aduce sublimul.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul are supremaţia, femeia are intuiţia.&lt;br /&gt;Supremaţia semnifică forţa,&lt;br /&gt;Intuiţia reprezintă dreptatea.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este un geniu,&lt;br /&gt;Femeia este un înger.&lt;br /&gt;Geniul este incomensurabil,&lt;br /&gt;Îngerul este inefabil.&lt;br /&gt;Aspiraţia bărbatului este către gloria supremă,&lt;br /&gt;Aspiraţia femeii este îndreptată către virtutea desăvârşită.&lt;br /&gt;Gloria poate face totul măreţ,&lt;br /&gt;Virtutea face totul divin.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este un cod, femeia – o evanghelie.&lt;br /&gt;Codul corijează, evanghelia ne face perfecţi.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul gândeşte, femeia intuieşte.&lt;br /&gt;A gândi înseamnă a avea un creier superior,&lt;br /&gt;A intui, simţind, înseamnă a avea pe frunte o aureolă.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este un ocean, femeia este un lac.&lt;br /&gt;Oceanul are perla ce-l împodobeşte,&lt;br /&gt;Lacul – poezia care-l luminează.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este un vultur care zboară,&lt;br /&gt;Femeia o privighetoare care cântă.&lt;br /&gt;A zbura înseamnă a domina spaţiul,&lt;br /&gt;A cânta înseamnă a cuceri sufletul.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul este un templu, femeia e sanctuarul.&lt;br /&gt;În faţa templului ne descoperim,&lt;br /&gt;În faţa sanctuarului îngenunchem.&lt;br /&gt;Bărbatul e plasat acolo unde se sfârşeşte pământul,&lt;br /&gt;Femeia – acolo unde începe cerul. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-4161848493791996794?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/4161848493791996794/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/barbatul-si-femeia-lhomme-et-la-femme.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/4161848493791996794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/4161848493791996794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/barbatul-si-femeia-lhomme-et-la-femme.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-5558071324945832918</id><published>2009-07-16T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:27:06.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: green;"&gt;Un strop de culoare...&lt;br /&gt;Adesea privesc in jur,momente ce le dau drumu din inchisoarea timpului,culori ce imi clatesc imaginea gandului,flori ce imi alinta sufletul,minuni ce le vad zi de zi,persoane ce le voi iubi,dorinte de a visa,nemplinirea de a mai zbura,zambetul primit zi de zi, farmecul primelor poezi,primul sarut pe banca mea,prima despartire din viata mea,primul gand rau ce ma va coplesi,ispite ce ma vor invinui....&lt;br /&gt;sunt ganduri ce nimeni nu poate sa le cunoasca sunt petele de culoare ce prind viata pe plasa alba a gandului uitat....pe plansa alba a inimii de smarald...prietenia dintre mine si tine se va sfarsii atunci cand un pictor orb va putea sa contureze lacrima de cristal ce se loveste de inima ta...si inca nu stiu ce se ascunde in spatele cuvintelor,stiu ca si eu candva voi uita de aceste prioritatzi din viata mea,de aceste cuvinte ce sens nu le gasesc,de aceste ganduri ce putini le-au inteles de tine de mine de toti si toate...suntem niste simple litere pe o carte cu pagini incheiate suntem o pata de culoare pt cineva...suntem un tablou de lumina....suntem noi...si asta spune multe...sa fiu eu sau fiu tu sa fim noi...brute...ce distrugem vise...minuni ce alintam zambetele unor copi...jocul mintii ce putini il inteleg...si in final un mic copil ce a desenat pe aceasta foaie ganduri ce ciudat...le-am uitat &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-5558071324945832918?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/5558071324945832918/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/un-strop-de-culoare.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/5558071324945832918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/5558071324945832918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/un-strop-de-culoare.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-541971986146733058</id><published>2009-07-16T07:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:34:47.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pentru ca ,,NOI'' a fost si va ramane cel mai frumos lucru din viata mea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:cyan;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;EL:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''   EU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce vrei de la mine,nu-s imparat,nu-s print,nu-s un sfant,nu-s o ploaie ce uda florile pentru a da viata,nu-s soarele de care ochii tai au nevoie dimineata sa te trezeasca,nu-s aerul ce-l respiri zi de zi..eu nu stiu cine sunt..simt doar lumina,simt doar intuneric,simt doar verde,simt doar mirosul imbatator al crinilor din padurea adormita,simt mirosul pieli tale fine,simt privirea ta agera cum imi mangaie obrazul..daca ma cauti nu-s daca ma strigi dispar..daca sti cine sunt spune-mi...&lt;/span&gt;  ''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; EU:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:green;"&gt;Ce vreau de la tine?un strop de iubire,o clipa de fericire,un sarut...sarutul ce-mi da viata,un zambet...zambetul pentru care in fiecare dimineata deschid ochii..si mai vreau parfumul tau...sa-l respir zi de zi ... eu stiu cine esti...esti lumina care imi mangaie trupul,esti intunericul ce ma cuprinde noapete de noapte,esti ceea ce simti,esti liniste, esti mister si puritate, esti dorinta...pasiune...&lt;br /&gt;Dar tu sti cine sunt???&lt;br /&gt;daca te caut..te vei arata...daca te strig ...imi vrei raspunde? tu esti eu,eu sunt tu,noi suntem iubire... caci:&lt;br /&gt;,,  iubirea este doi&lt;br /&gt;iubirea suntem noi&lt;br /&gt;iubirea esti tu  ,,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oare esti tu acela? oare sunt eu acea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;te ubesc:) &lt;img src="http://profhelp.forumup.ro/images/smiles/icon_redface.gif" alt="Embarassed" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-541971986146733058?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/541971986146733058/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-ca-noi-fost-si-va-ramane-cel-mai.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/541971986146733058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/541971986146733058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-ca-noi-fost-si-va-ramane-cel-mai.html' title='pentru ca ,,NOI&apos;&apos; a fost si va ramane cel mai frumos lucru din viata mea'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-890785108558419801</id><published>2009-07-16T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:18:09.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:100%;color:green;"  &gt;O poveste..&lt;br /&gt;nu sunt nici inceputul ,nu sunt nici sfarsitul...povestii..sunt doar o continuare,un fragmente din miile de fragmente..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ti-ai vreodata sa mori?Ai simtit cum lumea se prabuseste in jurul tau?Nu vei stii niciodata cum s-a sfaramat castelul de nisip in care traiai.&lt;br /&gt;Apa,miracolul vietii,acum..formata coloane in jurul lui distruge si ultima bucata de viata...&lt;br /&gt;Cine esti? De unde vi,de ce ei cu tine totul,de ce opresti timpul,de ce instigi spatiul?De ce calci in picioare sufletul,de ce manjesti cu noroi inocenta ? De ce ?&lt;br /&gt;Tu esti omul...centrul universului,creat si creator...definit prin mii de teorii...una mai mareata decat alta ..&lt;br /&gt;depozitar al adevarului si totusi o ingramadire de incertitudini si eroare..marire a universului...totodata imbecil vierme de pamant...Cu toate astea..maretia ta...reiese din nenorocirile tale...&lt;br /&gt;sau cel putin asa aprecia Pascal.. si vad ca si eu..o data ce am scris ..nu?&lt;br /&gt;Totul in jur e fals,tu ai fost fals de la inceput,eu sunt falsa,noi suntem falsi… pana si iubirea este falsa…defapt..cred ca ea este cea mai falsa dintre tot si toate ..ea ne face si pe noi falsi...&lt;br /&gt;Falsitate ,un strop de naivitate si indiferenta cat incape...si uite asa inocenta..cel mai pur lucru din univers..este distrusa...cu cata usurinta...&lt;br /&gt;Din tot sufletul meu.. ce a mai ramas?&lt;br /&gt;Nu am stiut nimic,desi credeam ca stiu totul ..nu aveam  nimic..dar credeam ca am tot !!!&lt;br /&gt;Nu am stiut sa aleg intre bine si rau…Dar deja am ales!!!&lt;br /&gt;Regret…&lt;br /&gt;Daca as da timpul inapoi???&lt;br /&gt;ce intrebare idioata…&lt;br /&gt;nu asta as vrea...as vrea sa am curaj,sa fiu cine credeam ca sunt,dar nu pot.. Cum as mai putea?&lt;br /&gt;Oamenii ...finite cu zambete perfide,identitati pline de venin….&lt;br /&gt;Dar lasa asta..asa suntem toti...tu,,ea, ei ...pana si el va fii la fel...trebuie doar sa creasca..si sufletul sa-si otraveasca...asa sunt si eu in final...&lt;br /&gt;Dar acum asculta...&lt;br /&gt;Spune-mi in loc de suflet..ce sa pun eu acum?Am incercat sa ma schimb,nu mai am cum,sau mai bine zis nu mai am ce...&lt;br /&gt;M-am pierdut pe drum...&lt;br /&gt;un lucru vreau sa-mi spui..&lt;br /&gt;voi mai fi vreodata cum vroiam sa fiu???&lt;br /&gt;Si din nou imi dau lacrimi cand ma gandesc la atunci...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trupul e distrus...infect...ca o zi de vara..din poeziile lui bacovia...&lt;br /&gt;sufletul..e si el pe acolo pe undeva..inca nu stiu pe unde..dar il simt...este...deci..e si o speranta...?!sau e o iluzie?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar in fine..totul e la fel..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fata spera...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fata moare...     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Final de scena....fata a pierdut lupta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Hmm...deja ma amuz&lt;br /&gt;e cam..&lt;br /&gt;           Stupid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="postbody" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: green;"&gt;un ultim tablou...dintr-o ultima piesa...manjita cu o ultima speranta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ......&lt;br /&gt;Ai simtit ca totul se termina ..ca  o viata ti-a luat si nu esti impacat ..ca nimic nu va mai fi ca atunci&lt;br /&gt;cand deschizi ochii si vrei sa plangi?&lt;br /&gt;O multime de vise s-au spulberat  ..curg lacrimi de fericire, lacrimi de amagire &lt;br /&gt;Picaturi de sange se scurg acum pe hartia mazgalita de incercari esuate ..de cuvinte nescrise..de fraze neintelese...&lt;br /&gt;Te vad...esti aici ..esti scaunul pe care stau..pixul pe care il chinui...fereastra la care privesc pe furis...esti cosmarul care ma bantuie..esti...visul in care ma pierd..esti ingerul la care ma rog si demonul din mine..esti o parte din mine..esti trecutul ce l-ai distrus..prezentul ce ma chinui si viitorul de care fug...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am obosit....sa tot fug..lacrimi multe s-au varsat...multe sentimente lasate vor fii pe foi aruncate ..uitate, aruncate intr-un colt de camera intunecat .,printre ,,forile raului’’ printre ,,nopti de decembre’’ si chipurile galbene ale iubitelor bolnave&lt;br /&gt;..hmm simti ???!!!!parfumul...intepator..da e parfumul zeilor....inchide ochii .. simti cum ploile apasatoare prind viata...cum materia plange? Uite !!floarea e pt tine...iti amintesti..tu mi-ai dat-o... uite citeste!!!...e volumul tau de poezi preferat...hmm pare putin schimbat?nuu, nu!!! Stai.. priveste.. o ultima pagina goala ...dintr-o ultima carte a suferintei..dintr-o ultima viata esuata...un ultim efort ..te las pe tine sa-l faci!!! te las pe tine sa pui punct ...eu nu as putea...&lt;br /&gt;,,incep sa cred ca-mi place sa plang ..imi place sa ma doara’’ e ultimul vers pe care l-a scris....inainte sa moara...&lt;br /&gt;o ultima pagina... oare eliade la ce se astepta cand a lasat-o?eu la ce sa ma astept?&lt;br /&gt;Azi am hotarat &lt;br /&gt;O noua viata&lt;br /&gt;Am pus punct la tot ce s-a intamplat&lt;br /&gt;Plec departe undeva unde nici vantul nici pamantul nu o sa ma ajunga,lumea gandurilor mele,lumea basmului,oglinda care minte,zambetul fermecat,totul s-a terminat acum si pe vecie,nu mai pot lupta,nu mai vreau nu mai am pentru ce sa lupt,adio.Imi va fi dor de mine,de voi de tot,in special de tine.&lt;br /&gt;Doar minuni,doar culori,sunt sentimentele ce le-am lasat pentru tine &lt;br /&gt;inchin,in cinstea ta, o cupa de vin...vin amestecat cu siropul florilor tale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmsi totusi mai fac o incercare ...mana ma strange...dar totusi incerc fara a spera sa si reusesc&lt;br /&gt;Oare o sa reusesc?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fata spera... iar &lt;br /&gt;fetita moare...      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Final de scena....fetita  a pierdut lupta..iar fata...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt; &lt;td class="genmed" valign="bottom" height="40"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-890785108558419801?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/890785108558419801/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-poveste.html#comment-form' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/890785108558419801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/890785108558419801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-poveste.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-2211782174551267738</id><published>2009-07-16T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:11:47.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/regula10/a984a6117a993d.swf"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/regula10/a984a6117a993d.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ANDREA BOCELLI - O MARE E TU&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu cum sa spun in cuvinte,&lt;br /&gt;Cum dar sa astern pe hartie?&lt;br /&gt;Ceva atat de sublim...&lt;br /&gt;O  dragoste ce doru-mi avanta&lt;br /&gt;Imi strange soarele in nouri&lt;br /&gt;Si ma picteaza in culori&lt;br /&gt;Ma chemi in gand ,&lt;br /&gt;Eu zbor spre tine&lt;br /&gt;si ma deschid cu tot ce am...&lt;br /&gt;sa ma golesc,sa te privesc&lt;br /&gt;sa te cunosc, cu-nfiorari&lt;br /&gt;sa ma iubesti...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu vreau nimic din ceea ce nu cuprinde&lt;br /&gt;in vreun aspect sau in cuvinte&lt;br /&gt;o particica din tine...                                             &lt;br /&gt;Tu mi-ai adus culoare in viata&lt;br /&gt;caci mi-ai aratat cum sa visez&lt;br /&gt;mi-ai dat o noua dimineata,&lt;br /&gt;si-ai alungat valurile de ceata&lt;br /&gt;cand mi-ai soptit ca ma iubesti..&lt;br /&gt;Tu mi-ai sadit in pori lumina&lt;br /&gt;mi-ai stralucit in gand curat&lt;br /&gt;mi-ai dat aripi&lt;br /&gt;mi-ai zmuls o raza de suras&lt;br /&gt;si m-ai eliberat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de atunci ..&lt;br /&gt;cu stropi de ploaie ,&lt;br /&gt;cu zambet,&lt;br /&gt;cu lacrimi&lt;br /&gt;cu rasarit de soare&lt;br /&gt;ma indrept mereu mai mult spre tine&lt;br /&gt;sa ma intregesti&lt;br /&gt;sa ma iubesti&lt;br /&gt;cum doar tu sti&lt;br /&gt;cu atingeri tandre, bland sarut&lt;br /&gt;imbratisare adanca..durut&lt;br /&gt;ca tot mai libera sa fiu...&lt;br /&gt;aproape de stele..acum pot sa fiu...&lt;br /&gt;aproape de ele...&lt;br /&gt;departe de tine..&lt;br /&gt;si totusi mereu langa tine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="448" height="386"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/image/andytza_20/c9b8eaa0227125.swf"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/image/andytza_20/c9b8eaa0227125.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="386"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;in bratele tale....ma simt in siguranta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/imagini/Diverse" title="Diverse"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/regula10/a984a6117a993d.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-2211782174551267738?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/2211782174551267738/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/nu-stiu-cum-sa-spun-in-cuvinte-cum-dar.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/2211782174551267738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/2211782174551267738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/nu-stiu-cum-sa-spun-in-cuvinte-cum-dar.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-1844732935921064252</id><published>2009-07-16T06:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T07:01:57.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:green;"&gt;&lt;object width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/aggabbi/a0769338340d1d.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/aggabbi/a0769338340d1d.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;too lost in you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de atatea...&lt;br /&gt;Am atatea sa-ti  spun si atatea sa fac&lt;br /&gt;Vreau atatea sa plang   si totusi de atatea tac&lt;br /&gt;Caci doar&lt;br /&gt;Cand sunt langa tine&lt;br /&gt;Inima ma invata sa tac ,sa ascult...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esti gandul pierdut in infinit&lt;br /&gt;Esti ultima amintire intiparita pe retina..&lt;br /&gt;Ochii, plang zambetul buzelor tale&lt;br /&gt;Bratele mele se inchid in  dorul stravechi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raman pe urma sa admir zborul sufletului tau..&lt;br /&gt;o plutire stravie fara ecou&lt;br /&gt;si astept din nou sa ma cuprinzi in brate...&lt;br /&gt;printre stele sa plutim...&lt;br /&gt;valsul e pentru doi ,&lt;br /&gt;valsul e pentru noi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ma cer usor in propriile idei&lt;br /&gt;sa ma presar mai apoi pe albastrul sufletului tau&lt;br /&gt;valsul e in doi..&lt;br /&gt;e pentru noi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="448" height="386"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/image/kmy_17/cd7d84093fe195.swf"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/image/kmy_17/cd7d84093fe195.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="386"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cool love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/imagini/Divertisment" title="Divertisment"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="448" height="386"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/image/kmy_17/cd7d84093fe195.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-1844732935921064252?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/1844732935921064252/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/too-lost-in-you-asculta-mai-multe-audio.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1844732935921064252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1844732935921064252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/too-lost-in-you-asculta-mai-multe-audio.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-4776606973053521321</id><published>2009-07-16T06:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T06:45:14.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>iubeste-ma asa cum sunt:)</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/sylvia/3cd06dc3bef20b.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/sylvia/3cd06dc3bef20b.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="46"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alanis Morisette - I'm a Bitch I'm a Lover&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Suspina,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Iadul pentru rai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Rade,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Raiul pentru iad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Precum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Plange Uranus pentru Gheea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Pierind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;In intunericul lui Hades&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Iad in rai,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Si rai in iad,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Suferinta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;In surdina,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Sfartecata de durere,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;Iad in rai,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:red;"  &gt;O mangaiere ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...cand viata ta e un iad eu sunt raiul ce-ti alina sufletul&lt;br /&gt;cand viata ta e un paradis..eu sunt iadul ce te face sa traiesti&lt;br /&gt;So take me as I am&lt;br /&gt; This may mean&lt;br /&gt; You'll have to be a stronger man&lt;so&gt;&lt;this&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m a sinner I’m a sant and  you wouldn’t want it any other way&lt;br /&gt;love you:X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/this&gt;&lt;/so&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-4776606973053521321?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/4776606973053521321/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/alanis-morisette-i-bitch-i-lover.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/4776606973053521321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/4776606973053521321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/alanis-morisette-i-bitch-i-lover.html' title='iubeste-ma asa cum sunt:)'/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-6061428053747495180</id><published>2009-07-16T01:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T01:25:24.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Sl7j6R92OFI/AAAAAAAAAMU/1M6T4Ymy0FM/s1600-h/untitledcghj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Sl7j6R92OFI/AAAAAAAAAMU/1M6T4Ymy0FM/s320/untitledcghj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358971197012195410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 class="title"&gt;Legile lui Murphy în sex&lt;/h2&gt;  * Sexul este unul dintre cele 9 motive pentru reîncarnare. Celelalte 8 sunt neimportante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sexul e ca ninsoarea: niciodată nu ştii câţi centimetri o să aibă şi cât o să dureze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu te apuca de treabă dacă nu poţi ţine steagul sus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu e nici o diferenţă între un deştept şi un dobitoc, când se îndrăgostesc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu te culca supărat! Rezistă şi luptă!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Legea fundamentală a primei întâlniri: “Îţi promit că n-o să te doară!”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sexul necesită extrem de puţin timp şi cauzează o groază de necazuri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu face sex cu parteneri care lucrează în acelaşi birou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Virginitatea se poate trata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Întotdeauna nimerim în perioada nasoală a lunii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Partida de sex nu se întrerupe niciodată din cauza întunericului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sexul face discriminări în funcţie de timiditate şi urâţenie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Înainte să-ţi întâlneşti prinţul, trebuie să pupi o mulţime de broscoi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Fă-ţi o relaţie bună cu vecinii, dar nu te culca chiar cu toţi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu poţi avea un copil într-o lună nici dacă te culci cu nouă femei în aceeaşi seară.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Să nu comiţi adulter. Decât dacă ai ocazia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Abţineţi-vă de la vin, femei şi muzică. Mai ales de la muzică.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Calităţile bărbatului care o atrag cel mai mult pe o femeie sunt exact acelea pe care nu le mai suportă câţiva ani mai târziu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu te certa niciodată cu o femeie când e obosită. Nici când e odihnită.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* O femeie nu uită niciodată pe bărbatul pe care l-a avut; un bărbat - femeia pe care n-a avut-o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Ceea ce contează nu e adâncimea jobenului, ci măiestria baghetei magicianului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Un bărbat poate fi fericit cu orice femeie atâta timp cât n-o iubeşte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Dacă te pui capră, trebuie să ai răbdare până la capăt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Frumuseţea intră în piele; urâţenia ajunge până la os.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Din sex appeal, 50% reprezintă ceea ce ai şi 50% ceea ce cred ceilalţi că ai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Un bărbat în casă face cât doi de pe stradă.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Dacă îţi cade mâna în chiloţii partenerului, inima şi mintea o să îţi cadă tot acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Când o nevasta învaţă să-şi înţeleagă soţul, de obicei încetează să-l mai asculte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu te culca niciodată cu cineva mai nebun decât tine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sexul e mizerabil doar dacă e făcut cu bun simţ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Cea mai sigură metodă să păstrezi un bărbat e să-l ţii în braţe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* E posibil să existe lucruri mai bune sau mai rele decât sexul. Dar nici unul nu e exact ca el.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Dacă am fi făcut cercetări spaţiale cu pasiunea cu care umblăm după sex, acum am avea tarabe cu hot-dog şi pe lună.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Dacă te mişti repede, iei cea mai mare parte din pătură.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Dragostea e triumful imaginaţiei asupra raţiunii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* E mai bine să pierzi în dragoste decât să nu iubeşti deloc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nu te aşeza niciodată între un pom şi un câine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Pământul nu se învârte în jurul axei sale, ci în jurul sexului.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-6061428053747495180?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/6061428053747495180/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/legile-lui-murphy-in-sex-sexul-este.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/6061428053747495180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/6061428053747495180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/legile-lui-murphy-in-sex-sexul-este.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Sl7j6R92OFI/AAAAAAAAAMU/1M6T4Ymy0FM/s72-c/untitledcghj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-7093839215822540637</id><published>2009-07-09T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T13:16:52.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;Cine sunt eu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gR4Zo7729Ck/SXcq0uN6cJI/AAAAAAAAAPM/ZuzzSFOiPVU/s1600-h/bm-quiz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gR4Zo7729Ck/SXcq0uN6cJI/AAAAAAAAAPM/ZuzzSFOiPVU/s400/bm-quiz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293746972245258386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="post-author vcard"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Sunt un fluture, aşezat să se odihnească pe o frunză de Tăcere&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o lacrimă de cristal, vibrând de Iubire la orice atingere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o secundă, o părticică din Timpul trecător, dar care e mereu Prezent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="post-icons"&gt;&lt;span class="item-control blog-admin pid-428955617"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=95071215753500036&amp;amp;postID=4192060553036509395" title="Editaţi postarea"&gt; &lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-2"&gt;&lt;span class="post-labels"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;    &lt;div class="post hentry"&gt; &lt;a name="7788321730758920329"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sunt un boboc de raţă, care deschide ochii pentru prima dată, pentru a vedea Lumea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un fir de nisip, îmbătat de razele pline de căldură ale cunoaşterii de Sine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un munte, observând nemişcat cum totul în jur e scăldat într-o misterioasă şi calmă Beatitudine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sunt o floare, care creşte şi înfloreşte indiferent de anotimp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sunt un moment de linişte, care se contopeşte cu Infinitul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un răsărit de soare, o clipă din eternul Joc Divin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o zână, aşa cum doar copii ştiu să le viseze.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sunt o adiere răcoroasă, în amiaza unei zile toride de vară.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un cuvânt, care stă pe buzele tuturor, abia aşteptând să fie rostit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o buburuză, care se plimbă agale printre firele de Viaţă.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o piatră de râu, mângâiată de curgerea neîntreruptă a apei,o mică fărâmă din Perfecţiunea Divină.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un fir de praf, purtat pe căi nebănuite prin Univers de vânturile stelare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 255, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o umbră, care înveleşte pământul cu Iubire, ca o haină groasă pe timp de iarnă.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un pescăruş, plutind peste ţărmul nemuririi Sufletului.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o oglindă în care, dacă ştii cum să te uiţi, poţi vedea Totul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o picătură de ploaie, într-o furtună de Iubire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Sunt o şoaptă, pe care o poţi auzi dacă alergi desculţ pe un câmp cu flori şi apoi te opresti şi atingi uşor cerul înstelat al Nopţii.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o ceaţă albă, lăptoasă, din care parcă mai lipseşte puţină Miere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un cântec, ale cărui note sunt fulgi de nea ce se aştern peste sufletul Tău.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un fulg de păpădie, care tremură la atingerea pielii Tale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o voce stinsă, care Te învăluie cu şoaptele ei în timp ce dormi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o flacără, care se ascunde în ochii Tăi atunci când zâmbeşti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o chitară, care la auzul numelui Tău vibrează.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un sărut, care se topeşte de căldura Ta, atunci când cuvintele sunt de prisos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o pană, pe aripa Ta de înger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un fior, care Te cuprinde atunci când înveţi să zbori pentru prima oară.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;Sunt un strop de apă, ce se scaldă în imensitatea Fiinţei Tale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;sunt TU...:)  sunt iubire:-*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZQHk65nOI/AAAAAAAAALs/x-rD2UVk5Ds/s1600-h/collage294e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 306px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZQHk65nOI/AAAAAAAAALs/x-rD2UVk5Ds/s320/collage294e.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356556897903811810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/andreea/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-7093839215822540637?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/7093839215822540637/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/cine-sunt-eu-sunt-un-fluture-asezat-sa.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7093839215822540637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7093839215822540637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/cine-sunt-eu-sunt-un-fluture-asezat-sa.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gR4Zo7729Ck/SXcq0uN6cJI/AAAAAAAAAPM/ZuzzSFOiPVU/s72-c/bm-quiz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-3432367817864560548</id><published>2009-07-09T12:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T12:38:16.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gR4Zo7729Ck/SaPBvGuispI/AAAAAAAAAcI/GFDTaFW2Z_A/s1600-h/7-705210.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gR4Zo7729Ck/SaPBvGuispI/AAAAAAAAAcI/GFDTaFW2Z_A/s400/7-705210.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306297800976413330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Te iubesc fara sa stiu cum sau cand sau de unde .Te iubesc pur si simplu ,fara complexitati sau mandrie;te iubesc pentru ca nu stiu alta cale..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                                                                                         Pablo Neruda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;                                                                      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-3432367817864560548?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/3432367817864560548/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/te-iubesc-fara-sa-stiu-cum-sau-cand-sau.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3432367817864560548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/3432367817864560548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/te-iubesc-fara-sa-stiu-cum-sau-cand-sau.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gR4Zo7729Ck/SaPBvGuispI/AAAAAAAAAcI/GFDTaFW2Z_A/s72-c/7-705210.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-8250606754768337452</id><published>2009-07-09T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T12:26:56.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h2 class="entry-title index-entry-title"&gt;         &lt;a href="http://jadore.xcc.ro/2009/05/de-ce-iubim-barbatii/" title="De ce iubim barbatii"&gt;De ce iubim barbatii&lt;/a&gt;         &lt;/h2&gt;                             &lt;p&gt;&lt;img class="size-full wp-image-27 alignright" title="barbat vs femeie" src="http://jadore.xcc.ro/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/67485005579_fool_for_love.jpg" alt="barbat vs femeie" width="250" height="229" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat mereu ca le lipseste tandretea. “Unii barbati se poarta cu femeile ca un urangutan cu o vioara” (H. de Balzac) … dar daca n-ar fi ei, cine ar mai face vioara sa cante?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat ca sunt insensibili, dar n-am observat niciodata ca in fata acestor acuze, barbatii rosesc.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat ca sunt egoisti si ne-am prefacut ca barbatii nu-si tin banii in geanta sotiei.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat ca nu stiu sa construiasca nimic. Dar noi suntem in stare sa vedem ca in casa unui barbat este castelul femeii lui? Sa recunoastem ca, in ruinele in care locuim multe dintre noi, barbatii ne fac sa ne simtim printese.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat ca sunt intotdeauna revoltati si am ignorat faptul ca printr-o lege nescrisa a firii lor, toti barbatii au un instinct pentru conflict. (Cel putin toti barbatii sanatosi).&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat mereu de infidelitate, dar am uitat ca i-am sedus cu formele noastre, cu marginirile noastre fermecatoare. Nu e un barbat pe care sa-l iubim, acela care pacatuieste refuzand o femeie frumoasa.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat ca uita sa ne mai distreze si ca imbatranesc repede. “Un barbat este atat de batran pe cat se simte.O femeie este atat de batrana pe cat arata.” (S.T. Coleridge) Dar si noi am uitat sa fim femeile acelea, intotdeauna aranjate si sofisticate de care ei s-au indragostit.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I-am acuzat de multe, dar ii iubim pentru ca ne vor pentru ei, chiar si cand gresesc si uita ca suntem si noi oameni si ca avem demnitate.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Iubim barbatii care ne iubesc si ne respecta libertatea, sufletul, daruindu-ne astfel enorm de multa incredere in noi.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru barbatul care stie sa te iubeasca, sa-ti respecte libertatea si sufletul, pentru barbatul care face vioara sa cante, sa fii mereu mama, amica, iubita, amanta… Sa fii mereu femeia de care s-a indragostit.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img class="size-full wp-image-28 aligncenter" title="barbatul-si-femeia" src="http://jadore.xcc.ro/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/barbatul-si-femeia.jpg" alt="barbatul-si-femeia" width="320" height="286" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;pentru asta ii iubim:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-8250606754768337452?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/8250606754768337452/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/de-ce-iubim-barbatii-i-am-acuzat-mereu.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/8250606754768337452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/8250606754768337452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/de-ce-iubim-barbatii-i-am-acuzat-mereu.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-539284154443848332</id><published>2009-07-09T12:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T12:22:35.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZDcYPJYgI/AAAAAAAAALk/O9PihEzUnao/s1600-h/forever_love-202x300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZDcYPJYgI/AAAAAAAAALk/O9PihEzUnao/s320/forever_love-202x300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356542961625162242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Femeile iubesc Barbatii &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca sunt puternici dar sensibili.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca langa ei, toate greutatile vietii sunt mai usor de depasit.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca ne inteleg.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca ne daruiesc copii.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca ii darama o bruneta cu tocuri de 12 cm si brusc se transforma in mimoze. Sunt ridicoli de amuzanti.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca iubesc fotbalul / box-ul/ K1 /  Formula 1 sau toate la un loc.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca sunt cei mai tari la poker.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca sunt soferi buni.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca se imbata ca porcii si se iau la intrecere cu masina politiei.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca sunt tupeisti, dar n-au tupeu sa ceara sefului o marire de salariu.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca nu stiu sa cumpere cadouri potrivite. Dar multumim pentru flori, oricum. Toate femeile iubesc florile.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca se reindragostesc de noi, in fiecare dimineata cand iesim de la dus.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca gatesc cei mai buni cartofi prajiti.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca desi promit “capsuni, frisca si sampanie” nu cumpara decat sampania, pe motiv ca celelalte ne ingrasa.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru catusele cu puf roz .&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca sunt fie ingrozitori de dezordonati, fie ingrozitori de ordonati.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca nu dau locurile lor, in autobuz, babelor cu traistele pline de ceapa. “Am bilet dom’le … Tu ai? “&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca ne spun ca ne iubesc, exact cand ne iubesc mai putin, doar ca sa ne dezarmeze.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca ei ne vad ca niste scartaietori continue.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca si ei se aduna “la barfa”.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca stiu sa faca foc de tabara.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca prefera bauturile tari, ca niste macho ce sunt.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca poarta sapca si adidasi si sunt mereu naturali. Sau poarta camasa si sunt sofisticati.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca stau cinshpe mii de ore in fata oglinzii sa-si faca “freaza”.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;… pentru ca sunt ai nostri.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-539284154443848332?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/539284154443848332/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/femeile-iubesc-barbatii-pentru-ca-sunt.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/539284154443848332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/539284154443848332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/femeile-iubesc-barbatii-pentru-ca-sunt.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZDcYPJYgI/AAAAAAAAALk/O9PihEzUnao/s72-c/forever_love-202x300.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-8834884575327790067</id><published>2009-07-09T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T12:18:39.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZB2w0aY6I/AAAAAAAAALU/BD6OI2mkYeU/s1600-h/protection.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZB2w0aY6I/AAAAAAAAALU/BD6OI2mkYeU/s320/protection.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356541215877260194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nu ma vedeam scriind vreodata despre dragoste. Poate ca … nu e pentru mine. Aveai dreptate: “dragostea nu e pentru oricine” oricat de multi ar spune ca: “oricine poate iubi.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;………………………………&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;(…) Stiu ca te doboara greutatile si ca-ti faci griji pentru mine. Sa nu-ti faci,mama. O sa fiu bine. Mi-a spus ca o sa ma faca fericita si ca nu ma va lasa. Nu-mi mai face inima rea, nu ma mai certa. Primeste-ne in casa si hai sa stam de vorba. Sa stii mama, ca i-am jurat c-o sa-l iubesc.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dragostea mea i-am pus-o in cuvinte. Crezi ca va stii sa citeasa printre randuri? O sa citim impreuna … Va intelege, ai sa vezi! Eu, am sa fiu cea mai fericita femeie din lume si tu o sa fii mandra.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;……………………………………………………………………………………………………..&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;(…) &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Aveai dreptate, mama. Azi m-a vazut plangand si nu mi-a sters lacrimile de pe obraji, m-a vazut ca tremur si nu m-a strans la piept, m-a facut sa sufar si nu mi-a spus: iarta-ma! Azi nu mi-a spus vorbe bune si nu s-a bucurat pentru mine. Mi-a zambit in fata si-am simtit gustul acela amar al lacrimilor. Azi mi-e inima trista, mama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZCeAykEvI/AAAAAAAAALc/HjuTGo0Fbl4/s1600-h/new5-300x225.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZCeAykEvI/AAAAAAAAALc/HjuTGo0Fbl4/s320/new5-300x225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356541890179371762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;(…) Maine, o sa-si calce cuvantul si-o sa ma lase, mama. Si nici cuvintele care ne-au legat nu vor putea sa spuna despre dorul meu. Maine o sa fiu singura, mama. O sa se inchida lumea in jurul meu si o sa-mi arda sufletul ca focul. N-o sa mai am lacrimi si atunci va plange vantul  in locul meu. O sa ma sarute ploaia si cand imi va fi frig, o sa ma invelesca Cerul.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dar nici Cerul, nici ploaia,nici vantul si nimic pe lumea asta nu se compara cu el. Maine, n-am sa mai vreau iubire …&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“Dragostea inseamna sa iti dai inima si sufletul intreg celui ce ti le va zdrobi” (C.Dickens - Marile Sperante)&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Iarta-ma mama! Ieri am plans din nou, si tu o data cu mine…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-8834884575327790067?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/8834884575327790067/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/nu-ma-vedeam-scriind-vreodata-despre.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/8834884575327790067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/8834884575327790067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/nu-ma-vedeam-scriind-vreodata-despre.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlZB2w0aY6I/AAAAAAAAALU/BD6OI2mkYeU/s72-c/protection.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-1138497051100697013</id><published>2009-07-09T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T12:06:17.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY5ly8fMmI/AAAAAAAAALE/0k5qzWXfSi4/s1600-h/thank%2Byou%2Bautumn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY5ly8fMmI/AAAAAAAAALE/0k5qzWXfSi4/s320/thank%2Byou%2Bautumn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356532128297202274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afara e toamna, e singuratate, e tristete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;N-am intalnit alti ochi mai tristi… singuratatea si durerea ei mi-au frant inima. Am auzit batand ceasul. E ceasul acelui “niciodata de acum inainte” … femeia cu ochii tristi nu mai e. Nimeni nu-si mai aduce aminte de cei mai buni din trecut, de ea… iar aplauzele trec, trofeele se prafuiesc, invingatorii sunt uitati!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Parca pentru ultima data as vrea sa plang iubirea, dar e tarziu. Lacrimile nu mai curg si sufletul mi-a impietrit. Nu simt durerea, nici iubirea, nici ura, nici dor …&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data privesc Cerul gandindu-ma la ochii tai. Stiu ca de acolo imi vei spune si la noapte : sa nu plang, e un inger pentru fiecare.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data inchid ochii si te vad aici, langa mine.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data mi-as dori sa simt respiratia ta calda.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa aud bataia inimii tale.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa radem impreuna - stii doar ca ador sa te vad zambind.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa-mi saruti fruntea si sa ma strangi in brate.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa ma trezesc dinimeata in bratele tale..sa facem dragoste... &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa te ating, sa te sarut, sa te cuprind …&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa-ti spun cat imi doresc sa facem dragoste la malul marii…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru ultima data as vrea sa-ti spun ca te iubesc.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pentru prima data vreau sa uit!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY9z7Wi0aI/AAAAAAAAALM/_vsIoqdZ3cc/s1600-h/romanta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY9z7Wi0aI/AAAAAAAAALM/_vsIoqdZ3cc/s320/romanta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356536769118654882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;Vine … Trece … Uneori incet, alteori repede…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Ma pregatesc sa plec, nu stiu incotro, dar stiu c-am plans si merg sa-mi sterg lacrimile.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Oglinda e sparta … sapte nenorociti de ani, de ghinioane … oricum, ce rost mai au?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Lacrimile nu se sterg, sunt tatuate pe obraji, dar e ciudat sa vad … Sa vad doi ochi de foc, ochii aceia tristi … &lt;em&gt;sunt ai mei. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-1138497051100697013?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/1138497051100697013/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/afara-e-toamna-e-singuratate-e-tristete.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1138497051100697013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/1138497051100697013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/afara-e-toamna-e-singuratate-e-tristete.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY5ly8fMmI/AAAAAAAAALE/0k5qzWXfSi4/s72-c/thank%2Byou%2Bautumn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-7644022953789197689</id><published>2009-07-09T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:39:24.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cu Infinitul am stat de vorbă ieri, tot la un pahar de vin și mi-a șoptit pe fugă, că te-a văzut in nemurire. L-ai câștigat drept prieten, cică ești un copil care se joaca de-a viața. M-a mustrat puțin și pentru vremea când eram colecționară de suflete și mi-a arătat în almanahul său, că  al tău valorează cât o sută de alte blestemate suflete. &lt;p&gt;Mi-a zâmbit larg, ca și cum era cel mai bun prieten gay pe care-l aveam, și mi-a zis: Norocoaso!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY4d2tMrkI/AAAAAAAAAK8/yDO66_PvFao/s1600-h/vin_iubire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY4d2tMrkI/AAAAAAAAAK8/yDO66_PvFao/s320/vin_iubire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356530892356234818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ofticata, imi spun că &lt;em&gt;viața-i o curvă … dar nouă ne place.&lt;/em&gt; Și m-am dus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;S-a-ntunecat Cerul.. și-a-nceput să plouă … o ploaie caldă de vară. Vreme de numărat banii, sau …&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-7644022953789197689?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/7644022953789197689/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/cu-infinitul-am-stat-de-vorba-ieri-tot.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7644022953789197689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/7644022953789197689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/cu-infinitul-am-stat-de-vorba-ieri-tot.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY4d2tMrkI/AAAAAAAAAK8/yDO66_PvFao/s72-c/vin_iubire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-2733489736920347610</id><published>2009-07-09T11:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:32:06.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY3oDsUBjI/AAAAAAAAAK0/2TmlkAe4smo/s1600-h/fericire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 293px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY3oDsUBjI/AAAAAAAAAK0/2TmlkAe4smo/s320/fericire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356529968129246770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;… pentru amintirile de ieri.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;… pentru fericirea si linistea de azi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;… pentru increderea si sustinerea de maine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-2733489736920347610?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/2733489736920347610/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-amintirile-de-ieri.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/2733489736920347610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/2733489736920347610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-amintirile-de-ieri.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlY3oDsUBjI/AAAAAAAAAK0/2TmlkAe4smo/s72-c/fericire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-8113865180428292515</id><published>2009-07-09T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T11:02:13.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYvAHuSg2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/7VPU7ivuciI/s1600-h/Love+FOr+Life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYvAHuSg2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/7VPU7ivuciI/s320/Love+FOr+Life.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356520485923488610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;a href="http://andutttz.blogspot.com/2009/02/cele-mai-frumoase-lucruri-in-viata.html"&gt;Cele mai frumoase lucruri in viata&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/h3&gt;   1.A te indragosti;&lt;br /&gt;  2.O baie cu spuma;&lt;br /&gt;3.O privire speciala;&lt;br /&gt;4.A primii scrisori;&lt;br /&gt;       5.Sa gasesti bani de care ai uitat ca-i ai;&lt;br /&gt;6.A rade te tine insuti;&lt;br /&gt;7.Telefoane de la cei dragi;&lt;br /&gt;      8.Cadouri de la cei dragi;&lt;br /&gt;9.O cina in doi;&lt;br /&gt;          10.Prietenii;&lt;br /&gt;11.A-ti petrece timpu cu prietenii;&lt;br /&gt;       12.A dansa;&lt;br /&gt;13.A te trezi bine dispus;&lt;br /&gt;14.Sarutarile;&lt;br /&gt;   15.A-l imbratisa pe omul iubit;&lt;br /&gt;16.A descoperi ca o iubire este eterna;&lt;br /&gt;      17.A admira rasaritul.&lt;br /&gt;18.A canta la chiatara.&lt;br /&gt;19.A te trezi in bratele celui iubit in fiecare dimineata.&lt;br /&gt;20. A spune TE IUBESC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si continuati voi lista cu ceea ce va face placere in viata:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-8113865180428292515?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/8113865180428292515/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/cele-mai-frumoase-lucruri-in-viata-1.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/8113865180428292515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/8113865180428292515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/cele-mai-frumoase-lucruri-in-viata-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYvAHuSg2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/7VPU7ivuciI/s72-c/Love+FOr+Life.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-9133974478755694836</id><published>2009-07-09T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T10:24:24.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYmZ8YPxpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/s-z1tFx0VWg/s1600-h/cada-de-baie-love-story-image0-23478.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYmZ8YPxpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/s-z1tFx0VWg/s320/cada-de-baie-love-story-image0-23478.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356511033950193298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dragostea este...&lt;br /&gt;Cand spui cuiva ceva rau despre tine...&lt;br /&gt;si ti-e frica, ca n-o sa te mai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;iubeasca din cauza la ce ai spus......si apoi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;cealalalta persoana te surprinde iubindu-te&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;chiar mai mult!!!&lt;br /&gt;Niciodata sa nu spui TE IUBESC doar daca iti vine..,iar daca o&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;               simti...atunci spune-o mai des....oamenii uita prea mult sa spuna &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                                               TE IUBESC!!!&lt;br /&gt;...Cand te indragostesti o faci  pe viata..nu poti iubi o persoana si dupa 2 ani sa pleci ,lasand totul in urma si spunand,,Nu te mai iubesc!''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iubirea lasa urme profunde,iar cand iubesti il accepti pe cel de langa tine asa cum este cu defectele si calitatile sale ,il apreciezi pt lucrurile bune si frumoase pe care le ofera celor din jur.. si il iubesti pt defectele sale,pt greseli..pt lacrimile care iti curg pe obraz in fiecare seara cand el nu este langa tine...si pt toate astea,pt toata dragostea asta inveti sa ierti..&lt;br /&gt;el invata sa regrete,sa isi ceara iertare,iar tu inveti sa ierti...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata este o continua experienta...azi ai langa tine o persoana  ..maine alta...insa fiecare este unic in felul sau,fiecare dragoste este speciala in felul sau...una este spontana, vulcanica...impulsiva... srtaluceste si dupa se stinge...dar tot timpul renaste din propria cenusa...lafel de  vulcanica,la fel de pasionala...ca si cum ar fi pt ultima data...&lt;br /&gt;a doua :) este firava, dulce ,inocenta,este linistita...iti aduce un zambet pe buze..iti ofera siguranta si incredere...e un firisor  plapand de orhidee...ce creste o data cu noi,este o dragoste ce te invata sa ai incredere in cel de langa tine, o dragoste pt care faci scacrificii ,o dragoste care te modeleaza,nu mai conteaza ce simti tu..ci important este cel iubit..daca eleste fericit..atunci si tu esti...nu mai exista ,,tu'' si ,,eu'' acum totuleste despre ,,noi''...o dragoste romantica,matura ,e dragostea pe care o cladin zi de zi...cu devotament si incredere in ,,noi''&lt;br /&gt;Ambele sunt o parte din mine...ambele ma caracterizeaza, impreuna sunt  &lt;eu&gt;EU&lt;/eu&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYnoc5OSPI/AAAAAAAAAKk/1trHGuteboc/s1600-h/1179893983.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 283px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYnoc5OSPI/AAAAAAAAAKk/1trHGuteboc/s320/1179893983.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356512382708238578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-9133974478755694836?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/9133974478755694836/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/dragostea-este.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/9133974478755694836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/9133974478755694836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/dragostea-este.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYmZ8YPxpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/s-z1tFx0VWg/s72-c/cada-de-baie-love-story-image0-23478.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3356542034315459459.post-5240045526351523425</id><published>2009-07-09T02:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T09:35:06.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYcMqTW1WI/AAAAAAAAAJk/o9ZnOQplE1k/s1600-h/michael-jackson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYcMqTW1WI/AAAAAAAAAJk/o9ZnOQplE1k/s320/michael-jackson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356499810643268962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Adio, Michael Jackson!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serile, în anii '80, dădeam drumul la televizor şi urmăream canalul MTV, ca să-l văd pe Michael Jackson. Ce-mi plăcea la el? Afară că era un entertainer excepţional, viaţa lui era o explozie nesfârşită de neaşteptat şi nefiresc. Dansa pe scenă cu o energie asudată şi cuceritoare; era negru ca tuciul, dar în faţa lui obstacolele vieţii, inclusiv cele de rasă, parcă cădeau de la sine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La 10 ani era starul formaţiei Jackson Five; după opinia mea, fără el, cei patru fraţi ai lui n-ar fi avut nici un viitor în muzică ori pe scenă. Idem tatăl lui, care era impresarul grupului. Junele Mozart pop din Gary, Indiana ducea în spate toată familia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Jackson a devenit o sursa de legendă foarte devreme. Maltratat ca şi copil de papa Joe Jackson - bătut cu cureaua, îmbrâncit, insultat, a precizat Michael în interviul dat lui Oprah în 1993, de tatăl-impresar care îl silea să exerseze istovitor în studio când alţi copii jucau baseball ori se dădeau pe patine -- Michael a avut o carieră de vis. Câteva jaloane:&lt;br /&gt;● 1966, cei cinci fraţi Jackson cântau  încă la... baruri de strip;&lt;br /&gt;● 1968, cei cinci semnează primul contract cu Motown;&lt;br /&gt;● 1978, Michael e star în filmul muzical The Wiz;&lt;br /&gt;● 1982, cântecul Someone in The Dark, făcând parte din coloana sonoră a filmului E.T., câştigă premiul Grammy. Şi băieţelul cu coşuri pe bărbia ca tuciul, cântând cu o voce subţirică şi ţopăind cu microfonul în mână de parcă avea oase de gumă, devine emblema internaţională a culturii pop;&lt;br /&gt;● Albumul Thriller devine cel mai vândut album pop din lume;&lt;br /&gt;● Tânărului i se zice the King of Pop;&lt;br /&gt;● Alte patru discuri de Michael Jackson, Off the Wall, Bad, Dangerous şi HIStory, intră în topul celor mai vândute discuri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La primul Grammy se vor adăuga încă 12. În cuvintele unui sociolog, americanii încep să cumpere muzica lui Micheal Jackson nu ca pe un produs de lux (un vin scump, să zicem, ori bilete la un meci super-aşteptat), ci ca pe un produs "staple". De larg consum. Ca laptele zilnic, ori benzina pentru automobil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Şi apoi, soarta lui Michael Jackson se schimbă. Începe reversul, inevitabil spun unii, al mega-succesului. Începe tragedia: droguri, psihiatrie, revelaţii de perversiune sexuală. (Deşi... biletele de concert continuă să se vândă!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La nici 35 de ani, Michael Jackson e acuzat de pederastie, abuz de medicamente şi insulte aduse comunităţii negre, într-o ţară în care mii de devianţi cu adevărat acuţi sunt toleraţi ori iertaţi. Un atac homosexual (nedovedit) împotriva unui minor e aplanat cu preţul a 14 milioane de dolari. La 21 de ani, Michael cade şi îşi fracturează nasul pe scenă - s-a crezut că nu va mai putea vorbi, ori nu va mai putea cânta. Începe un lung şir de chirurgii plastice. Nasul lui Michael e reconstruit, dar faţa lui Michael începe să se schimbe aproape la fiecare trei luni de zile. Pielea îi devine tot mai albă. Publicul afro-american îl respinge făţiş pentru că arată prea alb. Se dezbate aprins dacă albirea pielei e rezultatul unor arderi repetate cu laser, ori rezultatul unei imbalante chimice ori autoimune. Michael înfiază un copil alb (primul din trei). Michael cheltuieşte anual 100 de milioane de dolari, şi numai câştiga anual decât 30 de milioane. Tabloidele îl descriu ca pe un psihopat.&lt;br /&gt;În fine, la 50 de ani, ca să-şi achite datoriile şi să-şi plătească avocaţii, Michael Jackson se obligă prin contract la 50 de concerte începând în iulie 2009, la Londra. Muzicianul cel mai cunoscut din lume, dar declarat atât de falit încât unele asigurări îl refuză ca şi client, începe repetiţii zilnice pentru concertul de debut. Poţi să cânţi şi să dansezi zilnic, la 50 de ani, fără să te doară încheieturile? Michael se plânge de dureri sfâşietoare în tot trupul. I se fac injecţii cu demerol (morfină) de mai multe ori pe zi... În fine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La 25 iunie 2009, câteva minute după miezul nopţii, după o injecţie cu demerol, Michael Joseph Jackson se prăbuşeşte şi încetează să mai respire. Paramedicii chemaţi de urgenţă sosesc 3 minute şi 17 secunde mai târziu. Nu reuşesc să-l reanimeze. La centrul medical Ronald Reagan de la UCLA (Ronald Reagan l-a avut pe Michael oaspete la dineu la Casa Albă), Michael e declarat decedat. Cântăreţul/dansator, idolul iubirii de viaţă şi de oameni (We Are the World!), nu mai e... Şi, pe când preţul muzicii lui se înzeceşte instantaneu, un calcul simplu arată ca Michael Jackson, mort, va deveni solvent financiar, şi chiar o uriaşă sursă de venit pentru cei trei copii. Şi pentru toţi ceilalţi supravieţuitori care au dreptul la o bucăţică din moştenirea lui muzicală!&lt;br /&gt;Trebuia să mori, Michael Jackson, ca să-ţi achiţi datoriile, să-ţi mulţumeşti copiii şi să-ţi amuţeşti criticii!&lt;br /&gt;Şi ai murit, paradoxal şi simbolic, nu numai în vârful societăţii, care în America înseamnă în vârful notorietăţii! Dar ai murit şi alb la piele!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cineva care a trăit o viaţă de asemenea exces continuă să inflameze imaginaţiile. În acelaşi timp, tristeţea publicului demonstrează că în ciuda anilor de bârfe, undeva în sufletul publicului Michael Jackson a fost iertat, nu numai pentru discurile lui, ci pentru că el ca personalitate contribuie la o înţelegere a lumii de azi.&lt;br /&gt;Michael Jackson a fost un inocent, chiar dacă gusturile lui erau atât de controversate. Excesul vieţii lui nu era creat de el; era creat de Hollywood, de presa senzaţionalistă, şi de fanii avizi de noţiunea obligatorie a vieţii de exces. Michael Jakcson a contribuit la această noţiune, luptând să continue să arate tânăr, şi să se schimbe fizic ca să hrănească o imagine obligatoriu şocantă şi unică. De fapt, a murit pentru că imaginea lui şi el însuşi erau în conflict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I-am fost un fan lung şi fidel, pentru că eram convins de sinceritatea lui.&lt;br /&gt;O anume performanţă pe scenă, acel "moonwalk", mersul pe lună - cei care-l ştiau pe Michael Jackson ştiu la ce mă refer ­ am văzut mersul pe lună în concert, şi încă mă urmăreşte. Dansul acela aparent imposibil, de unde şi comparaţia cu paşii săltaţi ai unui astronaut fără gravitaţie, era dansul unui inocent care trăia pentru succes pentru că succesul era obligaţia lui fundamentală faţă de public. Restul, banii, bârfele, surpriza pretins şocată a societăţii faţă de stilul lui de viaţă, erau detalii periferice. Michael Jackson era un inocent, şi ca mulţi inocenţi, a profitat de succesul lui mai puţin, mult mai puţin decât propriul lui anturaj. Şi când a venit timpul să plătească pentru succes, a plătit singur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Şi acum, fireşte, se face multă zarvă dacă cumva injecţia cu demerol l-a ucis accidental şi prematur. Nu l-a ucis injecţia cu demerol. Candelele care ard cu asemenea flacară nu ţin mulţi ani; deja, Michael Jackson e un caz de longevitate. Pentru un geniu al muzicii pop, Michael Jackson a avut cea mai dulce şi mai bogată viaţă, şi cea mai lungă. Moartea tragică e cea mai răsunătoare reintrare în scenă a unui geniu al scenei de la care publicul cerea performanţa supremă: accidentul fatal.&lt;br /&gt;Adio, Michael Jackson, sau mai bine zis la revedere.&lt;br /&gt;Pentru că legenda ta va continua.&lt;br /&gt;Cei care te ştiau în România sunt, ca şi tine, nişte inocenţi bucurându-se de o plimbare pe lună.&lt;br /&gt;Dragi cititori din România, cei care l-am iubit pe Michael Jackson am pierdut o mică bucăţică din tinereţea noastră.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un articol de Petru Popescu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3356542034315459459-5240045526351523425?l=plouacustele.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/feeds/5240045526351523425/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/adio-michael-jackson-serile-in-anii-80.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/5240045526351523425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3356542034315459459/posts/default/5240045526351523425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plouacustele.blogspot.com/2009/07/adio-michael-jackson-serile-in-anii-80.html' title=''/><author><name>Shaiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02434295087339340674</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/Slb-VRjc6KI/AAAAAAAAAL0/UMrL8MVR6Ks/S220/IMG_1566.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WEtl6JYGIR8/SlYcMqTW1WI/AAAAAAAAAJk/o9ZnOQplE1k/s72-c/michael-jackson.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
