<?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-3670986</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:42:29.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Caminho. Um dia você descobre o seu. Ou não.</title><subtitle type='html'>Palavras e seus significados (?)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-105856754007476580</id><published>2003-07-18T15:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-18T15:32:19.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>É bom estar preparado... notícia bombástica...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;COLDPLAY NO RJ DIA 03 DE SETEMBRO!!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não deu pra conter a felicidade...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Daylight - Coldplay&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my surprise, and my daylight,&lt;br /&gt;I saw sun rise, I saw sunlight,&lt;br /&gt;I am nothing, in the dark,&lt;br /&gt;And the clouds burst to show a daylight, &lt;br /&gt;Oooooo and the sun shines, Yeaaahhh on this star of mine,&lt;br /&gt;Oooooo and I realise, Oooooo couldn't live without,&lt;br /&gt;Oooooo couldn't part without it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a hill top, on a sky rise,&lt;br /&gt;Like a first born, child,&lt;br /&gt;At a full tilt, and at full flight&lt;br /&gt;You see darkness, in the daylight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oooooo and the sun shines, Yeaaahhh on this star of mine,&lt;br /&gt;Oooooo and I realise, Oooooo couldn't be without,&lt;br /&gt;Oooooo couldn't part without, daylight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly breaking through the daylight&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-105856754007476580?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105856754007476580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105856754007476580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_07_13_archive.html#105856754007476580' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-105856516638435462</id><published>2003-07-18T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-18T14:54:09.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Impaciência. Demência. Imprudência. &lt;br /&gt;Se feres porque quer.&lt;br /&gt;Sem hesitar. Cortar. Maltratar. Rejeitar. Chorar.&lt;br /&gt;Se ages sem pensar.&lt;br /&gt;Cuspir. Engolir. Fingir. Sorrir.&lt;br /&gt;Cansei e me virei. Não quero mais ouvir.&lt;br /&gt;Quando você gritar não vou estar mais aqui.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-105856516638435462?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105856516638435462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105856516638435462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_07_13_archive.html#105856516638435462' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-105777894339846269</id><published>2003-07-09T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-09T12:29:04.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Fogo! Fogo!" Grita o cidadão, em alto e bom tom, pra quem quiser ouvir. E não são poucos. Seguidores do nada, perseguidores de si mesmos, presos em suas projeções, criando um mundnho de 3 horas, escondidos em seus medos, alimentados pela vontade de ser mais espertos que quem os fez, quem os olha e quem obviamente os julga. Olhando atentamente a lição do dia, aplaudem a obra do milênio, esplêndida, de enorme incompreensão, carregada de repúdio, ironias e afirmações. Afirmação de ser superior, de ser melhor, de ser motivo de piadas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-105777894339846269?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105777894339846269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105777894339846269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105777894339846269' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-105733394827726512</id><published>2003-07-04T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-04T08:52:28.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Perdas e Ganhos - por Mauro Mattos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos e perdemos, desde que nascemos.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos a proteção do útero, ganhamos a insegurança da vida.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos o primeiro relógio, logo perdemos o controle sobre nosso tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos a liberdade sexual, ganhamos a Aids.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos uma profissão, perdemos o ócio.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos muitos prêmios, perdemos o valor de poucos.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos certezas, perdemos dúvidas.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos dias, ganhamos noites.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos segurança, perdemos humildade.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos a Internet, perdemos a conversa na varanda.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos a imagem, perdemos o texto.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos sensatez, perdemos ousadia.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos um cliente, ganhamos outro.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos o não, perdemos o sim.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos os amores, ganhamos as cicatrizes.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos o achado, ganhamos a procura.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos o prazo, ganhamos um tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos a bússula, ganhamos uma estrela-guia.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos a pesquisa, perdemos a intuição.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos experiência, perdemos frescor.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos seriedade, perdemos o sorriso.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos objetividade, perdemos emoção.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos amigos, ganhamos negócios.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos linhas, perdemos entrelinhas.&lt;br /&gt;Ganhamos razão, perdemos sentido.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos a cabeça, ganhamos coração.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos a memória, ganhamos o novo.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos o ego, ganhamos o outro.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos a rima, ganhamos solução.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos o caminho, ganhamos a direção.&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos o passado, ganhamos o presente.&lt;br /&gt;Ou vice-versa. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-105733394827726512?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105733394827726512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105733394827726512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_06_29_archive.html#105733394827726512' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-105716321790226174</id><published>2003-07-02T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-02T09:33:17.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Teste ACENTO - á â ã à - • º ª &lt;br /&gt;Q merda.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-105716321790226174?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105716321790226174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105716321790226174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_06_29_archive.html#105716321790226174' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-105716248334292998</id><published>2003-07-02T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-02T09:15:54.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>60 dias. Mais. Afundado em meus compromissos. Inundado em minhas obrigações. Mesmo assim respiro e levanto a mão. Este blog ainda não está morto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-105716248334292998?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105716248334292998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/105716248334292998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_06_29_archive.html#105716248334292998' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-93528585</id><published>2003-04-30T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-30T06:17:42.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu queria alguém pra falar agora. Mas quem iria me entender? Em primeiro lugar, tudo o que eu queria era me entender. Saber porque eu passo horas pensando em você. Saber porque eu fico dias pensando em você. Meses. Anos. Saber porque não saber não é ruim. Depois, quem sabe, eu não encontro alguém pra falar, e esse alguém não é você?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-93528585?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93528585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93528585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#93528585' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-93068290</id><published>2003-04-22T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-22T13:54:21.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Reggie and the full effect – Relive magic… bring the magic home.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you run away. I told you all these things and yet you couldn't stay.&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't even stop to give the time of day and everything I said won't make these things okay Cause all I have to say is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl you mean so much to me. I wish that I could make you see. The way your wanting me to be is just as easy as 1-2-3. Across the world so far away I knew the words to make you stay Of course it's what I didn't say Still I knew the words to make you stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You smile at me and wave to me, I know exactly where and what I want to be, and if I'd wait for this…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So run away… what were all the times we could have had that day? Everybody knows that we would be okay. What they say should never matter anyway? So all I have to say is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl you mean so much to me. I wish that I could make you see. The way your wanting me to be is just as easy as 1-2-3. Across the world so far away I knew the words to make you stay Of course it's what I didn't say Still I knew the words to make you stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You smile at me and wave to me I know exactly where and what I want to be, and if I wish for this…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-93068290?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93068290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93068290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#93068290' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-93068157</id><published>2003-04-22T13:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-22T13:51:42.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>“Oi. Tudo bem?” Desembainho a espada, e em um só golpe, corto-lhe a garganta. Quanta precisão, quanta habilidade. No contorno do golpe, quase corto minhas duas pernas, largando assim, com medo, a arma no chão. Como posso ter a perícia de usar uma arma tão fatal, sem saber usá-la? Como posso cortar cabeças sem querer? Ando perdido em minhas palavras, e sinto que provoco sentimentos não desejados em quem as recebe. De certo ainda não sei usar esse poder, e assim me torno frágil, ao invés de poderoso. Como poderei me defender com algo que não sei usar direito? Alguém me empresta um manual, um livro? Mas cuidado ao falar comigo, pois as conseqüências são drásticas. E por mais que não deseje, acabo ferindo a quem mais gosto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-93068157?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93068157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93068157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#93068157' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-93060658</id><published>2003-04-22T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-22T11:26:38.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ae, tudo normal de novo. Jah jah eu posto mais.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-93060658?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93060658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/93060658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#93060658' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-92792713</id><published>2003-04-17T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-17T11:45:15.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mudança de layout, aos pouquinhos vai se ajeitando. Ah, os comments sairam todos... ooops...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-92792713?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/92792713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/92792713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92792713' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-91144594</id><published>2003-03-21T12:57:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-21T13:00:32.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.sitepedroamerico.hpg.com.br/nazi.jpg" alt="bando de fpd"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-91144594?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/91144594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/91144594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91144594' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-91144580</id><published>2003-03-21T12:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-21T12:57:19.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Some sort of feelings – Long Since Forgotten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my last chance to make things better. I´m running out of clever things to say. Perspective lines are drawn and I can´t pass them. I guess I wasn´t meant to see outside of my own view. Somewhere between phrases and speechless. What do you do when words won´t do? But that´s ok with you, actions come through with some sort of feelings to all of this. It´s taking up the spaces in my head. And it´s over now. Once again this language seems to fail me again. I hope that´s ok with you because I guess I wasn´t meant to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-91144580?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/91144580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/91144580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91144580' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-91144561</id><published>2003-03-21T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-21T12:57:04.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quando foi que cansei de brincar? Peguei os meus brinquedos e fui para casa. Da janela, fechada, via meus amigos brincando livres no pátio da escola, a mesma que abandonei há anos atrás, e como isso me atormentou. Pensando em como poderia escapar dessa casa trancada, derramei meus pensamentos em um pedaço de pano. No mesmo pedaço que roubei dos meus dias anteriores, e que me orgulhava ao ler um bordado com uma citação sobre o amanhã. Hoje, o amanhã, não é nada. É uma pausa silenciosa cheia de memórias, esperando por uma quebra, esperando pelo próximo compasso. Ao fundo, uma canção de ninar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-91144561?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/91144561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/91144561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91144561' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-89730915</id><published>2003-02-25T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-25T12:34:16.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A quem quero culpar? Não encontro você, e não quero enxergar se eu estive errado ou se você está fugindo sem eu entender. Mais uma vez pra trás, comi poeiras esperando por respostas. É tão engraçado o modo como eu sinto falta de ouvir e ler, eu não consigo parar de pensar e você e não rir, e depois chorar. Me aproxima, me puxa, cola o meu peito sobre o teu e me joga no chão. Sentado, no meio do nada, como poeira mais uma vez.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-89730915?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89730915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89730915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89730915' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-89730850</id><published>2003-02-25T12:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-25T12:33:16.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Como é bom te ver&lt;br /&gt;Saber que você está aqui&lt;br /&gt;E eu estou sentado, ao seu lado&lt;br /&gt;Te vendo sorrir, falar&lt;br /&gt;As coisas mais lindas que eu já vi&lt;br /&gt;E ouvi alguém recitar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como é bom viver&lt;br /&gt;E estar com você&lt;br /&gt;Presente ao seu lado, nos momentos mais felizes&lt;br /&gt;E tristes que eu pude passar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E se um dia isso tudo se acabar?&lt;br /&gt;E se um dia a gente nunca mais se encontrar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não vou deixar o dia se passar&lt;br /&gt;Não vou deixar você ir e não voltar.&lt;br /&gt;Farei o que preciso for pra te mostrar&lt;br /&gt;Que preciso de você pra continuar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-89730850?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89730850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89730850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89730850' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-89303797</id><published>2003-02-18T05:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-18T05:37:18.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Pessoas, palavras, &lt;br /&gt;cheiros, gostos, &lt;br /&gt;lugares, olhares,&lt;br /&gt;de nada adiantou &lt;br /&gt;se hoje o que me traz&lt;br /&gt;não é aquilo que ficou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guardado em minha mente&lt;br /&gt;minhas lembranças, tão recente.&lt;br /&gt;Sorriso largado, choro de lado&lt;br /&gt;de uma tarde que se foi&lt;br /&gt;de mais um dia que ficou no passado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-89303797?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89303797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89303797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89303797' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-89303779</id><published>2003-02-18T05:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-18T05:36:52.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Falha ruido&lt;br /&gt;falta fluido&lt;br /&gt;fala falido&lt;br /&gt;fone de ouvido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;folha individuo&lt;br /&gt;partido ferido&lt;br /&gt;incompreendido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;volume&lt;br /&gt;interrompido&lt;br /&gt;falta sentido.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-89303779?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89303779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/89303779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89303779' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88849388</id><published>2003-02-10T05:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-10T05:54:56.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sugestão da casa... geralmente eu não faço isso, mas eu realmente achei esse blog mto foda. Vale a pena dar uma olhadinha, principalmente se vc curte ilustração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.moidsch.blogger.com.br" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.sitepedroamerico.hpg.com.br/bloglink.gif" alt="Se eu fosse vc, visitava" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88849388?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88849388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88849388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88849388' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88704559</id><published>2003-02-07T05:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-07T05:56:49.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Isso aqui eu recebi de um grande amigo meu, Rodrigo Marques... autor(a): desconhecido. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Se você tivesse acreditado na minha brincadeira de dizer verdades, teria ouvido verdades que teimo em dizer brincando. Falei muitas vezes como palhaço, mas nunca desacreditei na seriedade da platéia que sorria " &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88704559?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88704559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88704559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88704559' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88653841</id><published>2003-02-06T08:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-06T08:22:32.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alguém se habilita??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://carnaval.linefeed.org/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://carnaval.linefeed.org/images/banner_carnaval.gif" alt="Carnaval Revolu&amp;ccedil;&amp;atilde;o 2003" width="468" height="60" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88653841?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88653841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88653841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88653841' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88644159</id><published>2003-02-06T04:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-06T08:20:33.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Let the game begin... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.sitepedroamerico.hpg.com.br/icone.jpg" alt="entendeu?"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88644159?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88644159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88644159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88644159' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88589007</id><published>2003-02-05T05:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-05T05:55:03.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Conto um dia, com você,&lt;br /&gt;e abro as portas, sinto a luz invadir&lt;br /&gt;o dia toma a forma&lt;br /&gt;e de repente o breu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conto um dia, com você,&lt;br /&gt;e abro a vida, a ferida,&lt;br /&gt;as dores que antes ardiam sozinhas&lt;br /&gt;e hoje inflamam sem parar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contei um dia, com você&lt;br /&gt;e você não veio me atender.&lt;br /&gt;Contou pros quatro cantos do mundo,&lt;br /&gt;o que todo mundo parecia já saber.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88589007?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88589007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88589007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88589007' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88584500</id><published>2003-02-05T03:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-05T03:31:58.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu &lt;br /&gt;por Florbela Espanca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou a que no mundo anda perdida,&lt;br /&gt;eu sou a que na vida não tem norte,&lt;br /&gt;sou a irmã do sonho, e desta sorte&lt;br /&gt;sou a crucificada... dolorida...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sombra da névoa tênue e esvaecida,&lt;br /&gt;e que o destino amargo, triste e forte,&lt;br /&gt;impele brutalmente para a morte!&lt;br /&gt;Alma de luto sempre incompreendida!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sou aquela que passa e ninguém vê...&lt;br /&gt;sou a que chamam triste sem o ser&lt;br /&gt;sou a que chora sem saber porquê...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sou talvez a visão que alguém sonhou&lt;br /&gt;alguém que veio ao mundo pra me ver&lt;br /&gt;e que nunca na vida me encontrou.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88584500?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88584500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88584500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_02_02_archive.html#88584500' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-88342291</id><published>2003-01-31T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-31T11:59:26.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Coldplay - The scientist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come up to meet you, Tell you I’m sorry, You don’t know how lovely you are&lt;br /&gt;I had to find you, Tell you I need you, Tell you I set you apart&lt;br /&gt;Tell me your secrets, And ask me your questions,let’s go back to the start&lt;br /&gt;Runnin’ in circles, [sounds like] Comin’ our tails, Heads on the science apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody said it was easy&lt;br /&gt;It’s such a shame for us to part&lt;br /&gt;Nobody said it was easy&lt;br /&gt;No one ever said it would be this hard&lt;br /&gt;Take me back to the start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just guessin’, At numbers and figures, Pullin’ the puzzles apart&lt;br /&gt;Questions of science, Science and progress, Do not speak as loud as my heart&lt;br /&gt;Tell me you love me, Come back to haunt me, Oh when I rush to the start&lt;br /&gt;Runnin’ in circles, [sounds like] Chasin’ our tails, Comin’ back as we are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody said it was easy&lt;br /&gt;It’s such a shame for us to part&lt;br /&gt;Nobody said it was easy&lt;br /&gt;No one ever said it would be so hard&lt;br /&gt;I’m goin’ back to the start&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-88342291?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88342291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/88342291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_01_26_archive.html#88342291' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-87935245</id><published>2003-01-23T19:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-23T19:20:54.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Por que será q eu não consigo mais fazer nada certo na minha vida? É como se eu tivesse esquecido de ler as instruções, e seguido ao próximo estágio sem saber por quê. Como é complicado viver, e se sentir mal por estar fazendo tudo errado. É horrível sentir no peito cada situação mal resolvida, cada decisão mal decidida, e casa pessoa ferida, ao longo da minha descoberta sem respostas. O meu poço de incertezas. A minha vida é um ponto de interrogação. Os meus dilemas são como chicletes engolidos. Os meus problemas eu mesmo crio. Dr. Frankenstein, deixe ele viver em paz, queime no inferno com toda a sua preponderância... seu verme... como eu gostaria de saber criar vida, saber dar a paz, saber o caminho certo. Caminhar descalço sobre brasas não é um bom esporte para amadores como eu. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-87935245?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87935245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87935245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_01_19_archive.html#87935245' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-87917645</id><published>2003-01-23T13:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-23T13:02:39.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Turnstile - Hot Water Music&lt;br /&gt;raise your voice in swells rind your meanings then use your signs inside to relive again no point in back on what you're holding no matter it be shit or it be golden foundations shift there shifting they're still shifting we set up our falls hold on tight to your fears cause that's your hatred and that's your love as well learn to use your fears as a fuel as an engine to get you where you need to be i must always remember there's no point to surrender i shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;entendam pq tanta gente gosta dessa banda. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alguém ainda vê isso aqui?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-87917645?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87917645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87917645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_01_19_archive.html#87917645' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-87040845</id><published>2003-01-06T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-06T19:42:02.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Canto tato traz à tona toda teu tormento.&lt;br /&gt;Transtorno suborno a dor de todos nós.&lt;br /&gt;De cara fechada à dois de novo.&lt;br /&gt;Descobre o tanto quanto o tato traz tormento.&lt;br /&gt;Temo. Tenho. Tosse. Trago. Tédio. Triste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-87040845?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87040845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87040845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_01_05_archive.html#87040845' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-87040598</id><published>2003-01-06T19:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-01-06T19:37:19.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Estúpidas palavras escritas&lt;br /&gt;Não nos dizem nada&lt;br /&gt;Mas nos tocam profundamente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fantasia é nosso guia&lt;br /&gt;Deixe essas palavras te levar&lt;br /&gt;Pra onde você quiser ir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras são como magia&lt;br /&gt;Que desperta nas pessoas&lt;br /&gt;Seus sonhos escondidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por trás de palavras&lt;br /&gt;Estão nossos anseios&lt;br /&gt;Não os vete com mais estúpidas palavras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-87040598?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87040598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/87040598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2003_01_05_archive.html#87040598' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-86704024</id><published>2002-12-30T09:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T09:35:20.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lágrimas ao acaso&lt;br /&gt;Desfaz&lt;br /&gt;Contorna&lt;br /&gt;Se conforma com teu destino&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas não é você quem faz a sua vida?&lt;br /&gt;Não é não, pois não somos nada sozinhos.&lt;br /&gt;Somos tão pequenos, e cheios de vida&lt;br /&gt;Mortos de tristeza.&lt;br /&gt;Conformados.&lt;br /&gt;Agredidos.&lt;br /&gt;Tristes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero fugir correr, soltar a corrente que há em meus pés&lt;br /&gt;Quero ser alguém tão feliz que possa até te emprestar um sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Me deixa ser um palhaço? &lt;br /&gt;Me deixa fugir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-86704024?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/86704024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/86704024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_29_archive.html#86704024' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-86602855</id><published>2002-12-27T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T09:39:21.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Os bons tempos nunca voltam...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Fall - Flag &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im feeling sad because i let you go&lt;br /&gt;but I know someday you`ll be much stronger&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel my friends so far from me&lt;br /&gt;but everytime I try, so hard it gets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling tears in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;don´t want to face this too&lt;br /&gt;I never thought it would end like this&lt;br /&gt;a lot of empty plans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember all the plans we´ve made&lt;br /&gt;nothing will satisfy you while you stay holding this flag&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-86602855?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/86602855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/86602855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_22_archive.html#86602855' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-86494525</id><published>2002-12-24T14:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-30T10:06:13.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Feliz natal pra todo mundo e foda-se esse papo de data do consumismo.&lt;br /&gt;Eu adoro vocês!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-86494525?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/86494525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/86494525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_22_archive.html#86494525' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85867051</id><published>2002-12-11T17:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-11T17:06:01.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Algumas pessoas já conhecem essa poesia.&lt;br /&gt;...................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escuto um grito. Por trás de tudo.&lt;br /&gt;Escuto um grito. Um pedido talvez.&lt;br /&gt;Seu olhar me espanta. Você quer uma ajuda?&lt;br /&gt;Sua atitude me afasta. Chego mais perto?&lt;br /&gt;Chora, mas não demonstra. Limpe suas lágrimas em mim.&lt;br /&gt;Não engole o que escuta. O gosto amargo do ódio.&lt;br /&gt;A tristeza não o abate. Sozinho em um canto.&lt;br /&gt;Forte como uma rocha. Frágil como uma flor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85867051?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85867051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85867051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_08_archive.html#85867051' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85554401</id><published>2002-12-05T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-05T12:35:48.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Com um a pá eu cavo fundo&lt;br /&gt;e nada acho&lt;br /&gt;mais uma vez&lt;br /&gt;parece que o tesouro que eu procuro nunca fora encontrado.&lt;br /&gt;Talvez ele nem exista.&lt;br /&gt;Talvez ele já tenha sido levado por alguém.&lt;br /&gt;Ou talvez, quem sabe,&lt;br /&gt;ele ainda esteja guardado,&lt;br /&gt;um pouco longe daqui,&lt;br /&gt;para que idiotas como eu&lt;br /&gt;que não entendem nada de brilho,&lt;br /&gt;nunca encontrem o que não mereçam ter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85554401?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85554401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85554401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85554401' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85554351</id><published>2002-12-05T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-05T12:34:42.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alegria é olhar pra você todos os dias e saber q no fundo desses lindos olhos mora o meu coração. A minha esperança. Mora cada pedaço de mim, espalhados e juntos. Alegria é sentir a sua pele na minha, seu gosto, sua boca, seu toque. Sentir você misturar-se em mim, tornando-nos um só. Sentimentos, sensações, experiências, um milk-shake de nós dois. Alegria é pensar em você e sentir meu dia transformar-se. Preto e branco. Colorido. Luz. Sol. Borboleta. A lua, que de longe, presencia todo o nosso comprometimento e cumplicidade. Porque um dia nós ainda vamos morar lá. E enquanto isso, meu amor, eu vou me guiando por seus caminhos,  deixando você entrar no meu, para então juntos caminharmos para sempre em busca do nosso altar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85554351?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85554351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85554351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85554351' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85461795</id><published>2002-12-03T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-03T19:32:04.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Falsidade. Apatia. Medo. Olhares no chão, olhares para baixo. Nunca deixei você me olhar no olho? Pelo contrário, tudo que eu queria é sentir o seu ódio sobre meu olhar, lançar todo o rancor guardado em seu íntimo, explodir como uma bomba. Tudo que eu quis foi um simples momento de espontaneidade de sua parte. Mas você quis me mostrar, se mostrar, aparecer, quis criar um cirquinho e levar a platéia toda a crer que tudo estava bem, e que você estava bem. Não, não estamos bem. Você se diz meu amigo, você não é meu amigo. Você se diz meu irmão. Você não é meu irmão. Você é apenas uma pessoa que eu convivi e que hoje se esconde atrás de passados para não viver o futuro. Você que utiliza as mesmas palavras que usou para me magoar para tentar fechar uma ferida que você criou com tanto orgulho. As pessoas mudam, você não quis acompanhar a mudança de ninguém. Você continua o mesmo, finge que está feliz, mas eu sei, e você sabe que não.&lt;br /&gt;Não adianta tentar esquecer as coisas, elas estão aí, claras como a água que você bebe, e não podem ser esquecidas. Elas são fortes demais. Elas mudaram as vidas das pessoas. Pessoas como eu, que agradecem a você por ser tão mal... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85461795?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85461795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85461795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85461795' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85354577</id><published>2002-12-01T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-12-01T18:09:17.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fluminense 1 x 0 Corinthians.&lt;br /&gt;Isso é pura poesia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85354577?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85354577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85354577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85354577' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85125869</id><published>2002-11-26T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-26T12:57:03.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fotografia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhares se apertam, distante, ficou pra trás&lt;br /&gt;Mais uma fotografia que eu vou guardar aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Album tão cheio e tão antigo, mas sem memórias&lt;br /&gt;Fotografias feitas por quem não viveu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De que adianta então? Olhe pra frente e siga&lt;br /&gt;Não tente viver tudo o que já passou&lt;br /&gt;Porque foi bom enquanto durou&lt;br /&gt;Não há como voltar e pedir que tudo se repita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85125869?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85125869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85125869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_24_archive.html#85125869' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85125860</id><published>2002-11-26T12:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-26T12:56:45.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Luz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do fim das horas, do dia. &lt;br /&gt;Do fim dos tempos, diria.&lt;br /&gt;cada vez mais a tarde caía, &lt;br /&gt;e sem te ter morria.&lt;br /&gt;Como pude dizer sorria, &lt;br /&gt;se vivi toda uma vida em agonia,&lt;br /&gt;em constante apatia? &lt;br /&gt;Sem ter mais pra onde correr,&lt;br /&gt;hoje sou, mais uma vez, você &lt;br /&gt;como nunca achei q seria.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85125860?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85125860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85125860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_24_archive.html#85125860' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85084021</id><published>2002-11-25T17:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-25T17:46:07.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>vida vazia veneno&lt;br /&gt;veia velha vastos&lt;br /&gt;vácuo veneno veia&lt;br /&gt;valente vívido&lt;br /&gt;vácuo&lt;br /&gt;verme&lt;br /&gt;vômito&lt;br /&gt;vazio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85084021?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85084021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85084021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_24_archive.html#85084021' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-85049498</id><published>2002-11-25T03:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-25T03:37:05.820-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Essa frase eu vi em um poster de um filme, chamado Doce Lar. Eu ia postar algo meu, mas prefiro escrever o q eu li...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Muitas vezes o que você procura está exatamente aonde você deixou."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-85049498?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85049498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/85049498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_24_archive.html#85049498' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84954365</id><published>2002-11-22T19:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-22T19:26:19.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Inaugurando o blog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai passar, eu sei que vai&lt;br /&gt;Vai correr, por onde eu não sei&lt;br /&gt;Sei que posso estar buscando &lt;br /&gt;Mas também sei que não estou mais só&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero sentir a sua palavra me alimentar&lt;br /&gt;Me dar prazer, me provocar,&lt;br /&gt;Quero sentir a chama do ódio e da paixão&lt;br /&gt;Estar vivo pra mim já não mais basta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por onde você caminha o vento foge&lt;br /&gt;E eu pego uma carona no vácuo da incerteza&lt;br /&gt;Quero preencher a minha lacuna e eu preciso de você.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84954365?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84954365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84954365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_17_archive.html#84954365' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84953988</id><published>2002-11-22T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-22T19:14:45.320-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bem, esse é o meu primeiro post oficial. :) Depois de todos os testes, consegui inserir a porra do comentário... e eu achando q ia ser complicado! Demorou, mas abalou. A partir de agora, caminhos tá na área. Se derrubar, é pênalti!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84953988?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84953988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84953988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_17_archive.html#84953988' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84952664</id><published>2002-11-22T18:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-22T18:34:22.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Até q enfim eu consegui fazer um template q prestasse. Ainda não está 100porcento, mas acho q finalmente me agradou um pouco. Valeu a pesquisa, valeu o esforço, valeu as horas de trabalho q eu bundei pra fazer o blog. Agora vamos ver se essa merda vai dar certo. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84952664?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84952664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84952664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_17_archive.html#84952664' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84504253</id><published>2002-11-13T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-13T18:55:10.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Será q isso corre pra sempre?&lt;br /&gt;como eu vou descobrir?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84504253?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84504253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84504253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_10_archive.html#84504253' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84504169</id><published>2002-11-13T18:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-13T18:53:21.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Testes&lt;br /&gt;de linha&lt;br /&gt;corre&lt;br /&gt;fica &lt;br /&gt;quem sabe&lt;br /&gt;a saída?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84504169?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84504169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84504169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_10_archive.html#84504169' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84451990</id><published>2002-11-12T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-12T19:24:57.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>teste&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84451990?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84451990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84451990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_10_archive.html#84451990' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84451291</id><published>2002-11-12T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-22T19:13:34.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>q saco isso não funciona&lt;br /&gt;Nem nos testes?!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84451291?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84451291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84451291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_10_archive.html#84451291' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670986.post-84451202</id><published>2002-11-12T19:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-11-12T19:08:37.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mais testes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3670986-84451202?l=zinecaminhos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84451202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3670986/posts/default/84451202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zinecaminhos.blogspot.com/2002_11_10_archive.html#84451202' title=''/><author><name>Pedro Americo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
