<?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-22841206</id><updated>2012-01-28T05:13:00.890-08:00</updated><category term='Lembrar de publicar'/><title type='text'>Turn Chaos Into Art</title><subtitle type='html'>O diário online de Kate Polladsky:
Minhas palavras não querem ser entendidas, apenas compreendidas. A minha lógica não busca explicação, apenas não ter de se explicar. E ainda que eu não te dê a porta, não te nego as brechas. Invade e fim.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>551</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-9012080340177086379</id><published>2012-01-28T05:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T05:13:00.904-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" &gt;Diz respeito ao meu direito de sorrir&lt;br /&gt;De repente quase não é escuro&lt;br /&gt;E se for frio, quente como for&lt;br /&gt;Diz respeito ao meu direito á dor&lt;br /&gt;Dois mais dois somando&lt;br /&gt;Num sonoleno semblante de um só&lt;br /&gt;Diz ao meu direito de ficar calada&lt;br /&gt;Cal que escreve no teu quadro negro&lt;br /&gt;E nega todas as palavras&lt;br /&gt;Dizendo que moro do lado esquerdo&lt;br /&gt;Do teu peito que se diz respeitar o meu direito&lt;br /&gt;de enfrentar tudo sozinha&lt;br /&gt;E sem dó eu lá estou&lt;br /&gt;Diz que o meu mundo é mais breve&lt;br /&gt;De uma bravura sem nome&lt;br /&gt;Respeita o meu totalmente&lt;br /&gt;Do seu nada ainda dormente de conteúdo&lt;br /&gt;Diz respeito as vezes que eu disse sempre&lt;br /&gt;E a mensagem voltou&lt;br /&gt;Quão inexistente é para onde vai&lt;br /&gt;Quão desistente é de onde sai&lt;br /&gt;Diz respeito a quem disse tudo&lt;br /&gt;E ainda falta mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-9012080340177086379?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/9012080340177086379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=9012080340177086379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/9012080340177086379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/9012080340177086379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2012/01/diz-respeito-ao-meu-direito-de-sorrir.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4683926100920051815</id><published>2012-01-28T04:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T05:02:56.744-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Vim para dividir um instante com você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Insisto apesar de um tanto distante, um tanto sem tom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Talvez eu nem tente, nem tente...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Toda vez que tenho algo em mente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Eu minto para que pareça limpo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Mas então tudo se desprende&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Vem quente e tonto atravessando o limbo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Como é que todos temem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;O tempo que passa eterno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Entorno de nós mesmos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Vim pra insistir o eterno com você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Um instante de nós mesmos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Entorno do que treme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Trem de uma estação sem retorno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Tudo que fica está aqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Tentando, tentando...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;br face="trebuchet ms"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4683926100920051815?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4683926100920051815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4683926100920051815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4683926100920051815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4683926100920051815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2012/01/vim-para-dividir-um-instante-com-voce.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2571459293108307996</id><published>2012-01-28T04:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T04:35:18.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Como você quer fazer a partir de agora?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quer sombra num pé urtiga ou polpa de um pé de amora?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Como você quer fazer agora?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mudar da noite pro dia é pior&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A último que ri, ri melhor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tem sabor do que você queria?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chega uma hora que o café esfria...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vai me dizer então, quem diria...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ou, e agora?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2571459293108307996?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2571459293108307996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2571459293108307996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2571459293108307996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2571459293108307996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2012/01/como-voce-quer-fazer-partir-de-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3538491943650607219</id><published>2011-12-13T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T07:47:05.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="uiStreamMessage" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;Não  vejo problema algum em atribuir felicidade a uma(s) pessoa(s); pessoas  vêm primeiro do que coisas. Mas não que a sua felicidade dependa de uma  ou de outra, a sua felicidade depende única e exclusivamente de você. Pessoas irão te decepcionar, irão te trair, desejar o seu mal. Coisas irão se quebrar, se depreciar, se perder. E, sim, você há de se decepcionar consigo mesmo, porém nunca desejando o seu próprio mal. Você há de se perder alguma vez na vida e, se depreciar também, afinal ninguém vive para sempre. Entretanto, construa positivamente durante a sua jornada, e nada o apagará no tempo. Até mesmo ser imortal, depende única e exclusivamente de você.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3538491943650607219?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3538491943650607219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3538491943650607219&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3538491943650607219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3538491943650607219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/12/nao-vejo-problema-algum-em-atribuir.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7160001581657841605</id><published>2011-12-12T11:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T11:34:35.889-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Muitas pessoas entrarão na sua vida como o sol, enquanto outras, como a  peneira.  Haverão aquelas que sempre estarão ao seu lado, te elogiando  genuinamente ou criticando quando necessário ao seu crescimento, te  dando apoio, consolo, brigando e fazendo as pazes, crecendo juntos -  iluminando a sua vida não importa quanta&lt;span class="text_exposed_hide"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show"&gt;s  barreiras existam que tentem impedir a sua luz de entrar. E... Haverão  aquelas que estarão ao seu lado sempre que for do agrado e do interesse  delas, te elogiando em função de algum ganho, te criticando pelas  costas, plantando a discórdia, ao mesmo tempo que te exalta, te puxa o  tapete - alimentando-se da sua luz não importa o quanto isso te  enfraqueça. Infelizmente não estamos livres de que entrem em nossas  vidas tanto as pessoas de luz quantos as que tentam bloquea-las de nós.  Porém, aquelas que vêm realmente para nos iluminar transpassam qualquer  coisa e seguem seu caminho ao nosso lado, tapar o sol com a peneira é  realmente inútil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky.&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/22841206-7160001581657841605?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7160001581657841605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7160001581657841605&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7160001581657841605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7160001581657841605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/12/muitas-pessoas-entrarao-na-sua-vida.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3869331537956755232</id><published>2011-09-05T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T12:38:13.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não tenho feito nada de que me orgulho ultimamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Isso explica parte dos olhares a esmo e dos semblantes de tristeza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Encostei-me na cadeira ou sobre a cama e me deixei partir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Distraio-me com facilidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Desvio-me da verdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sinto que me perdi e não me acolho em conselhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não respeito minhas conquistas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Finalizo poucos começos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Estou tão cansada...E o que faço por mim? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Quero me agradecer...De nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;O tempo corre feroz, e eu adormeci.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;O tédio chegou, não estou sendo mandada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Preciso de motivação, de orientação, de cantadas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gastei mais do que devia, a minha vida está parada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ando produzindo apenas reflexos de um insucesso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Uma respiração que pouco metaboliza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mas mentalizo tudo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3869331537956755232?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3869331537956755232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3869331537956755232&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3869331537956755232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3869331537956755232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/09/nao-tenho-feito-nada-de-que-me-orgulho.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8741552581342329496</id><published>2011-08-23T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T23:50:59.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A linha tênue entre o sim e não costuma ser o mal-entendido. No final de todo "talvez" existe uma decisão. E neste caso, o talvez até pode escolher, mas quem decide é um "sim"ou um "não". Uma hora ou é ou não é. Sabe preto no branco? É tão simples. E isso ajuda a não termos que ser advinhos...Eu não leio pensamentos, embora tenha uma intuição até razoável. Estável nos bons sentimentos, nas boas intenções, nas boas ações...Eu  realmente me esforço tanto para que tudo se manche por causa de  mal-entendidos desnecessários? Indeciso disse: Decida! Decidido disse: Não. Indeciso se chateaou porque esperava um Sim. De quem é a culpa? Do decidido, que não entendeu o talvez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8741552581342329496?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8741552581342329496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8741552581342329496&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8741552581342329496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8741552581342329496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/08/linha-tenue-entre-o-sim-e-nao-costuma.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5807321558257869761</id><published>2011-08-06T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T23:32:21.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Você sabe bem o que eu nunca precisei dizer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;O amor se acumula, se empoeira dentro de mim. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Todos sabem a quanto tempo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;E me sacode longe impaciente, entristecido...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Sentimento a sentimento. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Coração mal lavado, enrijecido. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5807321558257869761?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5807321558257869761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5807321558257869761&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5807321558257869761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5807321558257869761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/08/voce-sabe-bem-o-que-eu-nunca-precisei.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5843799330503479363</id><published>2011-08-02T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T18:05:25.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Vontade de ter alguém pra fazer feliz, pra cuidar, pra dizer não e dizer sim. Mas ando com medo das minhas vontades, é um talvez muito grande se entregar. Jurei que me daria um tempo que não voltaria lá, mas de lá ainda não saí e você não vem me visitar. Inverno rigoroso aqui dentro. Quem sabe até quando irá. Vontade de ter alguém por entre os braços, por entre os baques que o amor dá.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&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/22841206-5843799330503479363?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5843799330503479363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5843799330503479363&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5843799330503479363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5843799330503479363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/08/vontade-de-ter-alguem-pra-fazer-feliz.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8557326627709695514</id><published>2011-07-19T22:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T22:54:56.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;She said, dear let's make a deal: I'm in love with someone else and you will love someone new. So yes, I'm broken but broken with style, there ain't no funny words I say that makes me laugh inside. And you, you could even fly right now, I'm heavily distracted but my heart's upside down. She said dear, can we start from the scratch? I said there were no better days when my love was just a sketch. It grew bigger and stronger until now, a walking dead. Oh what a happy day, and you're talking pretty about your feelings by the way. In between cold and coming backs, it does keep on trying and I name my cryings last.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;___________ Kate Polladsky. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8557326627709695514?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8557326627709695514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8557326627709695514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8557326627709695514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8557326627709695514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/she-said-dear-lets-make-deal-im-in-love.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5821234680648179582</id><published>2011-07-14T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T22:33:30.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;No fundo no fundo, acho que queremos alguém que diga não aos nossos nãos - manhosos e cheios de teste. Alguém que nos puxe pelo braço quando viramos as costas sem a vontade genuína de ir. Alguém que que nos diga: "não é isso que você está pensando..." E NÃO SER MESMO. Né, que bom seria alguém que, livre de qualquer complexo americanicista, nos fizesse crer em &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;happy endings&lt;/span&gt;, porque os contos de fadas acontecem rotineiramente e não somente em Hollywood. Alguém que não nos leve ao fundo no fundo, para morrermos na praia. Alguém que não esvazie completamente as nossas expectativas...Que mantenha nosso coração ao menos metade cheio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__________.&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5821234680648179582?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5821234680648179582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5821234680648179582&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5821234680648179582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5821234680648179582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/no-fundo-no-fundo-acho-que-queremos.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4896637926281782518</id><published>2011-07-12T23:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T23:46:25.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Chega um momento em que olho para o relógio.&lt;br /&gt;3:41.&lt;br /&gt;É hora de ir, porque não virá.&lt;br /&gt;Cada um tem seu acordo com o tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Uns amadurecem, outros tentam.&lt;br /&gt;A noite me vem como oportunidade de refletir.&lt;br /&gt;Eu não deveria estar aqui me ferindo e me referindo a você.&lt;br /&gt;É preciso bem mais do que lembrar.&lt;br /&gt;É preciso esquecer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____________.&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4896637926281782518?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4896637926281782518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4896637926281782518&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4896637926281782518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4896637926281782518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/chega-um-momento-em-que-olho-para-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7832676030159798159</id><published>2011-07-11T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T16:11:59.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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E ponto. E prantos! Poxa, eu disse sim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dizer "sim" pra quase tudo... Isso não me torna alguém mais positivo.&lt;br /&gt;Mas por vezes me torna autodestrutivo.&lt;br /&gt;Queria que soubesse que a minha vontade era de negar.&lt;br /&gt;É algo mundano e competitivo essa necessidade de agradar, de ser aceito, de que seja desse jeito e não do outro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; - Não quero ir, mas já estou lá. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Negar-se a um “não” é perder autonomia, vender seu livre-arbítrio a preço de banana sem ter sequer adquirido dívidas esmagadoras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pratico a ditadura de coisas verbalmente mais longas também, como o “pode ser”. O casamento que deu certo.“Não” é o pé-de-lã. Não é o vilão, e sim a solução. Pelo menos para alguns.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Inexoravelmente sou um ser arrependido por alguns “sim” que dei. Sinto que prostitui o meu “não”. Menos promíscuo teria sido dar um belo “talvez” e jamais ligar no dia seguinte. Fui embora, jamais saberei se engravidei de gêmeos um consentimento. Sim, sim. Gostaria que não fossem meus. Mas se for, eu assumo.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Preciso aprender a dizer “não”, do contrário terei de vender até as calças pra pagar pensão pelos erros que cometi. Digo, pelos “sim” que cometi, não?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/m:defjc&gt;&lt;/m:rmargin&gt;&lt;/m:lmargin&gt;&lt;/m:dispdef&gt;&lt;/m:smallfrac&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-7832676030159798159?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7832676030159798159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7832676030159798159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7832676030159798159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7832676030159798159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/normal-0-21-false-false-false-pt-br-x.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1288230459855550752</id><published>2011-07-10T22:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T22:56:33.709-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Menina...&lt;br /&gt;E esse coração?&lt;br /&gt;Que horas são? Já é hora de acordar.&lt;br /&gt;Pelo sim e pelo não, já é hora de acordar.&lt;br /&gt;Cair em si, foi uma lágrima que eu vi antes de se deitar?&lt;br /&gt;Você sabe o que pensar, sabe bem que a vida continua.&lt;br /&gt;E sabe bem, porque já viu esse filme passar.&lt;br /&gt;Então aonde já se viu esse sentimento ficar...&lt;br /&gt;Menina...&lt;br /&gt;Existem outras formas, outros dias, outras pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;Por que não é como todo mundo? Só lhes serviria esta?&lt;br /&gt;Sabe, me conte algo realmente bom. Você está a tentar?&lt;br /&gt;E aquilo que te falei sobre não desistir...&lt;br /&gt;Em alguns casos, a gente chama de deixar pra lá.&lt;br /&gt;Vejo sorrisos nessa tristeza..&lt;br /&gt;Veja seus amigos, eles estão em todo lugar.&lt;br /&gt;Certo, todos perguntarão como você está.&lt;br /&gt;Poucos saberão realmente como você está.&lt;br /&gt;Tanto de você em outro lugar...&lt;br /&gt;Por que demora tanto né? A gente sempre pensa que está quase lá.&lt;br /&gt;Um belo dia você enche o peito, acha que está tudo perfeito.&lt;br /&gt;Olha como você está. Olha como você está!&lt;br /&gt;Menina...O amor é difícil. É pra quem sabe esquecer.&lt;br /&gt;Não deixa juntar, não deixa juntar...&lt;br /&gt;Uma hora você se deixa, outra hora você se queixa, perde o caminho e não sabe voltar.&lt;br /&gt;Eu acho nobre viu, esse seu jeito de gostar...As pessoas se lamentam o tempo todo, que não são amadas. Mas talvez elas precisem mesmo de um pouco menos, e você um pouco menos pra se doar. É uma troca justa, não?&lt;br /&gt;Porque não te falta sentir toda essa falta.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sei que tá doendo um tanto.&lt;br /&gt;Mas todos nós sabemos que vai passar...&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade parece já ter chegado pra quem você pensa agora.&lt;br /&gt;É a sua vez de ir lá...&lt;br /&gt;E então? Não sufoca não...&lt;br /&gt;Respira...&lt;br /&gt;E vai..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's just a season thing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's just this thing that seasons do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And that's the way this wheel keeps working now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#NP - John Mayer - Wheel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1288230459855550752?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1288230459855550752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1288230459855550752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1288230459855550752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1288230459855550752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/menina.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8533731409193568253</id><published>2011-07-09T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T23:36:09.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQpE1f5n4J0/ThlISqWC5-I/AAAAAAAAAiY/9p9XE9JF3mE/s1600/flowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQpE1f5n4J0/ThlISqWC5-I/AAAAAAAAAiY/9p9XE9JF3mE/s400/flowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627608694817744866" 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/22841206-8533731409193568253?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8533731409193568253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8533731409193568253&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8533731409193568253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8533731409193568253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQpE1f5n4J0/ThlISqWC5-I/AAAAAAAAAiY/9p9XE9JF3mE/s72-c/flowers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6710530347504060469</id><published>2011-07-09T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T22:57:00.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Pensamentos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Não sei qual deles escolho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Não sei em qual deles me recolho mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Essa cidade vive, e eu...nela há dias eu respiro algo que tenho buscado com tanta força, com tanto suor, com tanta certeza. Contanto que...Bem, você não está nela. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Existem coisas que deleitam do mesmo despero por respostas, algumas delas eu encontrei em corpos, em campos, em compras e como qualquer bobo eu só me realizo com o seu sorriso, com o seu cheiro, a sua implicância, a sua insegurança e a quem mais eu contaria todos os meus problemas, todos os dilemas de como ser quem eu sou. Eu me prendo a um único desejo...Terminar com tudo isso e qualquer notícia sua me serve. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Pensamentos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Não qual deles padece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Não sei qual deles, se pudesse...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Eu tenho feito tudo certo. E parei de contar os erros, parei de contar  comigo pra tantos erros...Eles continuam. E eu continuo no seu caminho. Aonde mais poderia querer chegar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Aonde mais eu poderia querer estar? Esta cidade vive...E eu...nela há dias...morro, morro de saudades suas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6710530347504060469?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6710530347504060469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6710530347504060469&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6710530347504060469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6710530347504060469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/07/pensamentos.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3197853394511380463</id><published>2011-05-04T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T16:48:17.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Existe uma distância, uma distância que resiste.&lt;br /&gt;Que não é minha e nem é sua, mas de um sentimento que insiste.&lt;br /&gt;Não te trocaria pelo amor, não te trocaria pelo sossego&lt;br /&gt;Sei que gosto dessa verdade tocável, que me motiva, que me faz desistir&lt;br /&gt;Gosto de sentir que o meu mundo se faz ouvido na sua voz&lt;br /&gt;Gosto de que minhas palavras ponderem antes dos nós&lt;br /&gt;Porque existe um laço, uma laço que persiste&lt;br /&gt;E não me deixa só com meus medos e nem tampouco sã com meus segredos&lt;br /&gt;Pra você que me agarra e me deixa ir, fica esse lugar cômodo e instável&lt;br /&gt;Guardado dentro do meu peito. Uma incógnita fria que esquenta o outro dia&lt;br /&gt;E eu quero te ter outra vez, seja esta talvez a minha maior ganância&lt;br /&gt;É uma distância que de nós desiste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3197853394511380463?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3197853394511380463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3197853394511380463&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3197853394511380463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3197853394511380463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/05/existe-uma-distancia-uma-distancia-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7587335547573060608</id><published>2011-04-24T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T17:22:11.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eu sinto falta de que não seja um beijo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas uma troca de olhares. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sinto falta de que não seja uma discussão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mas apenas uma troca de idéias.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sinto falta de não me toques&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mas que me tenha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Falta de que os meus por ques&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não sejam necessariamente os seus porquês.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;E que é tudo muito estranho sem você por perto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mas antes de mais nada, sinto falta de não seja saudade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;E sim uma morte minha pela tua ausência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Que me renasce, que me cresce, que me agonia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eu sinto falta porque además estou preenchida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;E nada se torna falta assim a toa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sem um tornado de presença sua em minha vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-7587335547573060608?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7587335547573060608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7587335547573060608&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7587335547573060608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7587335547573060608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/04/eu-sinto-falta-de-que-nao-seja-um-beijo.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5503354783454778359</id><published>2011-03-07T19:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T19:34:43.015-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Chove. Sei que estou entortando meu corpo na direção errada.&lt;br /&gt;E durante todo esse tempo, estive levando meus pensamentos a nada.&lt;br /&gt;Lava de mim essa leva, lava.&lt;br /&gt;Se as histórias que leio me ensinarem a ser melhor, se as músicas que ouço me disserem mais do que preciso ouvir, então talvez eu aprenda.&lt;br /&gt;É uma espera extraordinária. A vida inteira consiste nessa espera enquanto tudo se move, e o meu lugar talvez não seja o seu lugar ou... meus desejos possam ser de aluguel. Sinto conforto na minha própria pele que ora não te toca.&lt;br /&gt;Tem mais além de mim querendo voar e vivenciar uma amostra de infinito?&lt;br /&gt;Tem algo mais real do que pensar no amanhã sem coincidir com o tempo agora?&lt;br /&gt;Porque chove, e lava da minha vista até mesmo os pesares e as trocas de olhares.&lt;br /&gt;Sei que estou forçando toda essa limpeza na minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5503354783454778359?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5503354783454778359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5503354783454778359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5503354783454778359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5503354783454778359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/03/chove.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2593249059016321604</id><published>2011-02-19T05:47:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T06:30:01.454-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Um dia me permiti fazer tudo que tinha vontade. Umas saudáveis, outras nem tanto. Algumas coisas fáceis, outras nem tanto. Coisas que vão além da minha idade, ou da sua. Já me sacrifiquei por causas finitas que causaram dores infinitas, mas já passaram. A gente mente pra si mesmo enquanto tenta ser feliz. E é. Defender os seus dias como se levasse a vida inteira pra vivê-los. Um bom dia pode ser totalmente formal ou a forma mais simples de ver o mundo. Paciência é pura força de resistência. De todas as coisas que me dividem a mais justa delas é a minha verdade. E a minha vontade agora era te ver. Permita-se.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;________.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2593249059016321604?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2593249059016321604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2593249059016321604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2593249059016321604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2593249059016321604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/02/um-dia-me-permiti-fazer-tudo-que-tinha_19.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5695314335430264396</id><published>2011-02-10T08:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T08:10:56.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So here's our peace, right from my pieces.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In long terms... is that it?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You'll be more than when we were one.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I can't be drown in tears and dry them at the same time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But you must be right&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I deserve better, on my own.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;kp&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5695314335430264396?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5695314335430264396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5695314335430264396&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5695314335430264396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5695314335430264396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-heres-our-peace-right-from-my-pieces.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1509185809347949596</id><published>2011-02-02T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T16:58:03.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;E então tu me levas para um caminho sem volta.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Cem voltas...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Ora sou dono, ora sou dano. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Dias de sim, ou de senão.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Um dia te dou o mundo.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Outro dia temos um mundo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Entre o que eu agarro, e a sua mão.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;E então, nos casamos?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Nos damos a honra e às bençãos?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Não sei se te completo ou te componho&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Não sei se te levo, ou te lavo dos outros pra mim.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Não sei se é puro por mais que a mim pareça novo.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Você me transforma e me transfere de você&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;E então...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Tu me levas para um caminho sem volta.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Volta e meia eu acredito, eu te dou méritos&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;E muitos beijos.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Te dou a minha vergonha pública, mas volto.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Porque nós somos feitos de todas essas idas.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Ainda não não nos leve a lugar algum.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Ainda.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/22841206-1509185809347949596?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1509185809347949596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1509185809347949596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1509185809347949596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1509185809347949596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/02/e-entao-tu-me-levas-para-um-caminho-sem.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4078555225165168011</id><published>2011-01-26T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T17:48:42.949-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>E sem abrigo pra depois do fim, nada se termina nem se conclui.&lt;br /&gt;Alguém de um lado não o faz&lt;br /&gt;Alguém do outro lado não se refaz&lt;br /&gt;As coisas mudam mas não se transformam&lt;br /&gt;Isso é cansaço.&lt;br /&gt;É só um laço de descompromisso.&lt;br /&gt;Amarrado pra não prender. Pra sufocar.&lt;br /&gt;Um chá pra acalmar, outro chá de sumiço.&lt;br /&gt;Já levou quem não devia, pro lugar que a gente ía&lt;br /&gt;Desculpas pra quê, a gente muda o ponto de vista&lt;br /&gt;E a luz do poente faz nascer a escuridão do dia.&lt;br /&gt;Se ouvir o coração estarei ensurdecendo o meu racional&lt;br /&gt;O óbvio se expira em tantos dias, prazo de validade normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4078555225165168011?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4078555225165168011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4078555225165168011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4078555225165168011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4078555225165168011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/01/e-sem-abrigo-pra-depois-do-fim-nada-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4382823958089054077</id><published>2011-01-19T18:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T19:12:15.895-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Autobiografia alheia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Durou o suficiente para que não se mantesse. Apenas ficasse.&lt;div&gt;o que cai na rotina vira tédio e logo vira dor de cabeça.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Antes quase tudo na minha vida se preenchia com você mas em algum momento tive um surto pois você não estava mais no meu pensamento, apenas na minha vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu passei a notas nossas diferenças que antes eram chamadas de afinidades, a paixão faz isso.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas tendo restado somente o amor eu vi que éramos diferentes em horários, saídas, expectativas, idéias e sentimentos repentinos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi um final arrastado e ao mesmo tempo sem muita cerimônia; afinal tudo que havia de ser dito já foi dito e não temos mais um motivo mágico pra ser salvo, mas sim dois: você consigo mesma e eu, comigo mesma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;KP&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4382823958089054077?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4382823958089054077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4382823958089054077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4382823958089054077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4382823958089054077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2011/01/autobiografia-alheia.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4548937707501312372</id><published>2010-12-01T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T19:37:55.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Juliete é pau mandado.&lt;br /&gt;Não é proativa pro mercado.&lt;br /&gt;Se atende uma ligação, mal entende o recado&lt;br /&gt;A info pode vir completa mas há sempre algo que deveria ter perguntado.&lt;br /&gt;Pobre Juliete, é um estorvo sentado.&lt;br /&gt;Serve pra quê Juliete, moleca de bilhete.&lt;br /&gt;É dispersa como o vento, com um amor concentrado.&lt;br /&gt;Tão inteligente e articula bem as palavras&lt;br /&gt;Mas Juliete vê dificuldade demais nas pequenas causas.&lt;br /&gt;É distante pra si mesma, mas está lá sentando ao lado.&lt;br /&gt;Juliete observa com o canto dos olhos e sabe Deus no que está pensando.&lt;br /&gt;Pesa com medidas diferentes o tempo que tá pesando.&lt;br /&gt;Não te apavores Juliete, perfeição é um mau presságio.&lt;br /&gt;E já toma tanto cuidado com aqueles que ama.&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo que saia um resultado ou outro errado.&lt;br /&gt;Não há nada demais Juliete se pensam que é incompetente&lt;br /&gt;Você sabe como é... ninguém conhece a gente&lt;br /&gt;E quem conhece se engana.&lt;br /&gt;Queira ser imponente e tente ser bacana&lt;br /&gt;Vai ser capitã de tanto pau que manda.&lt;br /&gt;Juliete é como muitos&lt;br /&gt;Trabalha duro e depois cama.&lt;br /&gt;Vez ou outra em sua distração, pisa na lama&lt;div&gt;Mas não suja sua mente, com tanta informação&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esses costumes da sociedade são pra vender&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E cultura não é ser certinha,  isso é tradição&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoje em dia as pessoas não se incluem, elas se metem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Você tem que fazer o mesmo pra se dar bem Juliete&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pode fazer o que quiser, se pagar as taxas, os impostos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se pagar o pato, pagar o mico e pegar no ponto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dinheiro Juliete sabe como ter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É só ter paciência e não ter o que temer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porque é uma tremenda de uma burrice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quem pede a painho pra sobreviver&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pois bem, Juliete já sabe o que fazer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Faça do seu jeito do jeito que ninguém faz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aliás faça melhor e não só o que der&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É assim que as coisas boas acontecem Juliete&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Juro que não é conversa mole de antigamente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pode perguntar, pra qualquer incompetente...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4548937707501312372?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4548937707501312372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4548937707501312372&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4548937707501312372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4548937707501312372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/12/juliete-e-pau-mandado.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4561248680484843182</id><published>2010-11-29T08:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T08:12:04.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fantasmas demais, todos carnais.&lt;br /&gt;Fantasmas carnais todos demais pra minha mente que sente para trás aquilo que já não serve pra mim.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4561248680484843182?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4561248680484843182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4561248680484843182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4561248680484843182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4561248680484843182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/11/fantasmas-demais-todos-carnais.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-487231390855647585</id><published>2010-11-22T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T18:22:59.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Amores novos se põe à mesa. Amores antigos a gente assopra a poeira e põe de volta na prateleira. Olha de vez em quando, acha bonito e feio esquecer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Quantas vezes pela porta só passaram aqueles que ficaram? É eu sei. Muitas casas só tem janelas. E ainda assim é ventilado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;A gente vai perdendo o romantismo ou vai se perdendo na praticidade e no raciocínio. Mas eu ainda penso que valha a pena um devaneio ou outro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Não há como evitar. Ninguém escolhe encontrar alguém tão lindo, tão perfeito e tão cheio de poréns. Viva os problemas e se for bom o suficiente, resolva-o. Se não for para resolução, melhor não ser você o problema. Vira um amor antigo, ainda que por sobrevivência própria você precise envelhecê-lo logo, tão cedo veio, tão cedo pode ir. Deixa empoeirando...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-487231390855647585?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/487231390855647585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=487231390855647585&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/487231390855647585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/487231390855647585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/11/amores-novos-se-poe-mesa.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1627440043049249611</id><published>2010-09-21T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T09:05:06.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Distância em primeira instância.&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração precisa assentar&lt;br /&gt;São muitos dias pra engolir&lt;br /&gt;Muita saudade pra suportar&lt;br /&gt;Alguns pensamentos tomarão conta de mim&lt;br /&gt;Sem qualquer cuidado ou carinho&lt;br /&gt;Não sei bem aonde vou estar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto você estará tão bem&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber impor limites sem tirar tanto de nós&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho ouvido muitas coisas bonitas&lt;br /&gt;Tenho sentido que meu mundo anda completo&lt;br /&gt;Ou seria algo sinônimo de "completamente"?&lt;br /&gt;Encontro poréns que não se cessam&lt;br /&gt;Meus olhos vêem tudo bem depois&lt;br /&gt;Me peça pra ser mais a dois&lt;br /&gt;Sem dúvidas, sem conflitos, sem medos&lt;br /&gt;Mas isso não seria amor, seriam apenas sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;Desses que juntos pouco somam amanhã&lt;br /&gt;Hoje, agora é um estado de felicidade incontestável&lt;br /&gt;Mas basta uma palavra, ou um silêncio&lt;br /&gt;Que tudo entre nós se questiona&lt;br /&gt;Está tudo bem? E nos tornamos monossílabos&lt;br /&gt;Tentando diferenciar o sim de um não&lt;br /&gt;Sempre sabemos o que está acontecendo&lt;br /&gt;Sinto que haverá um recomeço de amores e dores&lt;br /&gt;Como haveria de ser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1627440043049249611?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1627440043049249611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1627440043049249611&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1627440043049249611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1627440043049249611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/09/distancia-em-primeira-instancia.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1168256722604756169</id><published>2010-09-02T11:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T11:14:09.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;As tuas notícias são poucas&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Eu sei que não irá demorar muito até que vá embora de vez.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Há algo de você que ainda permanece em mim&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Sei que não são apenas lembranças e decepções&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Mas um carinho constante e uma admiração que sempre esteve aqui&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Talvez eu não possa mais ter a mesma confiança que tinha&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Porém, existem pedaços de mim e de nós que estão melhor guardados com você&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Dificilmente eu esqueço de tudo que você me representa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Pois tomo por contínuo que você sou eu para começo de história, meio e fim.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;KP&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1168256722604756169?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1168256722604756169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1168256722604756169&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1168256722604756169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1168256722604756169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/09/as-tuas-noticias-sao-poucas-eu-sei-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8943680171911866527</id><published>2010-09-02T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T10:57:03.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Há menos coisas nas quais pensar agora&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração é um impulso e o meu corpo se entrega leve como num sopro.&lt;br /&gt;Eu aprendi coisas que vivi e coisas que existiram para mim como morte.&lt;br /&gt;Os pesadelos viraram pedras&lt;br /&gt;E como duas crianças distraídas as atiramos sobre a água&lt;br /&gt;Ela pulam, rodopiam se chocam e afundam&lt;br /&gt;Fazem parte de outro interior agora.&lt;br /&gt;Não mais dentro de mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8943680171911866527?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8943680171911866527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8943680171911866527&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8943680171911866527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8943680171911866527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/09/ha-menos-coisas-nas-quais-pensar-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2806010806004383162</id><published>2010-06-21T10:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T10:47:53.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ah o tempo vai dizer sem eu ao menos perguntar.&lt;br /&gt;Leveza... Leveza. Bater as asas e voar.&lt;br /&gt;Acreditar na ordem da vida.&lt;br /&gt;Passado, presente e futuro.&lt;br /&gt;Fruto do que se criar.&lt;br /&gt;Tem escolhas que sim, tem destinos que não.&lt;br /&gt;Ter bastante cuidado no que se diz&lt;br /&gt;Com medo do triz, tem-se que arrodear.&lt;br /&gt;Cafezinho, a rede na varanda, a música que faz sentido.&lt;br /&gt;Os amigos que consolam, a família é a mesma que tem sido&lt;br /&gt;E a gente, que nem sabe bem o que é&lt;br /&gt;Mas sabe aonde quer chegar.&lt;br /&gt;São mil perguntas na cabeça&lt;br /&gt;Algumas respostas do lado de fora&lt;br /&gt;Mas as saídas, presas no lado de dentro.&lt;br /&gt;A gente acorda e se renova.&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã, é uma palavra de peso.&lt;br /&gt;E a palavra pesada, sequer retorna.&lt;br /&gt;É melhor tentar ir vivendo&lt;br /&gt;Do que conseguir ir existindo&lt;br /&gt;O domingo existe, e a Segunda nem é um mal-estar.&lt;br /&gt;Sobre eu contar da minha vida...&lt;br /&gt;Tive uns amores, umas dores e uns dias&lt;br /&gt;Eu prestava atenção aonde doía&lt;br /&gt;Mas a distração é o melhor lugar.&lt;br /&gt;Ali bem diante do talvez&lt;br /&gt;Tem certezas que vão sempre estar lá.&lt;br /&gt;E eu vou me questionar se faria tudo de novo&lt;br /&gt;Por mim, pelas mesmas pessoas, pelos mesmos motivos...&lt;br /&gt;Se rio, se choro, se terra, se mar.&lt;br /&gt;Ah o tempo vai dizer sem eu ao menos perguntar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2806010806004383162?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2806010806004383162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2806010806004383162&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2806010806004383162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2806010806004383162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/06/ah-o-tempo-vai-dizer-sem-eu-ao-menos.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2208327270302928497</id><published>2010-06-02T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T08:46:11.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;A vida era mais calma quando tinha um segredo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;Interromper o silêncio fez acordar um mundo pesado demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;Flutuar em pensamentos com uma leveza suspeita, mas livre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;E é somente verdade que dentro de mim as coisas estão claras demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;Infelizmente, a mesma água que deixa transparecer e limpar a verdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;é a água que afoga e inunda algúem já cansado de explicar sobre a grandeza que é amar e se incompreendido. Em mares como esse, não existem embarcações que salvam. Mas somente ondas, que derrubam, arrastam e te levam de volta para beira.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;Até assim preciso enxergar não como um retrocesso de vida. Mas como um recomeço...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;O amor que tanto causa, voltará mil vezes. E mil vezes inundará...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2208327270302928497?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2208327270302928497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2208327270302928497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2208327270302928497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2208327270302928497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/06/vida-era-mais-calma-quando-tinha-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1842105574393005846</id><published>2010-05-04T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T08:40:29.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Almoço: R$ 3,00. Essa deve ser aquela fase em que os seus gastos vão diminuindo, porque a fome vai diminuindo, o sono vai diminuindo, a paciência vai diminuindo, a fé vai diminuindo, a força vai diminuindo e você vai lentamente sucumbindo em seu próprio mundo. Os cafezinhos, por outro lado, vão aumentando...proporcional à possibilidade de se terminar sozinho. A ansiedade e a angústia é o que resta, e é a única coisa que parece se consumir nesse almoço. Se você sabe que vai perder alguém, então acostume-se a esta fase. Mas o tempo não pára, então é melhor se concentrar no trabalho e não demonostrar nada...Aceite mais um cafezinho. É social, e ninguém desconfia que você só consegue sentir o gosto amargo disso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Kate Polladsky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1842105574393005846?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1842105574393005846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1842105574393005846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1842105574393005846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1842105574393005846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/05/almoco-r-300.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7402082469782951498</id><published>2010-04-30T09:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T09:27:51.277-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>E assim extendo o meu amor ao infinito.&lt;br /&gt;Você sabe quando estou cansada do mundo,&lt;br /&gt;Sabe quando estou sem fôlego pra vida,&lt;br /&gt;E me devolve tudo de novo como uma volta sem ida.&lt;br /&gt;Eu me abro pro amor seguindo o caminho mais difícil.&lt;br /&gt;Mas me pega pela mão e mesmo com as luzes apagadas,&lt;br /&gt;Tentaremos a porta de saída.&lt;br /&gt;Você me refaz do nada e então quase não há ferida.&lt;br /&gt;Todos os dias chegam mensagens&lt;br /&gt;Há todo momento eu vejo sinais&lt;br /&gt;A todos eles que me indicam 'desista'&lt;br /&gt;Eu ofereço a minha calma&lt;br /&gt;E ao meu coração, mais amor ainda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-7402082469782951498?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7402082469782951498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7402082469782951498&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7402082469782951498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7402082469782951498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/04/e-assim-extendo-o-meu-amor-ao-infinito.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6983135581162142138</id><published>2010-04-08T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T09:02:20.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Porque você move meus dias&lt;br /&gt;Cheios de vontades e cansaços&lt;br /&gt;Eu sonho com aquela chuva caindo&lt;br /&gt;E nós, desleixados no colchão da sala&lt;br /&gt;Nem sabemos quando é água e quando é fogo&lt;br /&gt;Mas temos a certeza de que fazemos acontecer&lt;br /&gt;A alquimia perfeita, um amor sem chances de morrer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6983135581162142138?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6983135581162142138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6983135581162142138&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6983135581162142138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6983135581162142138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/04/porque-voce-move-meus-dias-cheios-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2015772545024708593</id><published>2010-04-07T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T19:50:08.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fill it up with gas&lt;div&gt;I know you've done your best&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I gotta be on fire&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps we're not there yet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I count it per hips&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's all I want above my head&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Face it as it's over&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And keep it under cover&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now who can I be for you sir?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stop the walk to talk&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go on to find your spot&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I  here for  the damage or not?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little girl will soon grow up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And she'll start the smell like pop&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't like the candy look outside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it's what the world supports&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not for judge, not for Jesus, not for Judas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not for jackass, jokers and jerks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I know what I got to know now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I here for the damage or not?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You may cross my way but stay away from the block&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Cause you know when I'm around I push it hard&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a look in the eye, a sarcastic smile and I knock down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lalalala Sing it loud, that I'm about to restart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2015772545024708593?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2015772545024708593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2015772545024708593&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2015772545024708593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2015772545024708593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/04/fill-it-up-with-gas-i-know-youve-done.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1142684490807278616</id><published>2010-03-15T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T08:56:19.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Não deixe que a minha insegurança te segure firme e te prenda a mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Não deixe que a tua liberdade me force a levantar vôo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;E não queira que eu te ame apenas porque é amor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Não imagine que tenho sorte porque estamos no mesmo caminho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Não caminhe ao meu lado porque pareço saber para onde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;E não tenha dúvidas do que dizem meus olhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Nos teus braços me esqueço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Dos teus braços tiro forças&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Do teu jeito eu aprendo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;A contemplar mais de uma coisa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;E assim eu termino o que conheço de mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;E recomeço aonde nos conhecemos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Entre sons de mundo e silêncio de todos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;E você me diz que sou eu quem te completa por todos os lados.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1142684490807278616?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1142684490807278616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1142684490807278616&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1142684490807278616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1142684490807278616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/03/nao-deixe-que-minha-inseguranca-te.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6065866443836572178</id><published>2010-03-15T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T08:24:18.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;E junto ao teu corpo pôr gelo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Porque parte do princípio que me queima.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Por entre os dedos, partir sem data de chegada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Sem medidas sinceras, conheço cada milímetro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Encho- te a boca com palavras de silêncio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Por tudo que me faz querer gritar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Teu nome se arrasta devagar dentro de mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Durante os dias e todas as horas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Então estamos mais perto do que antes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Quase aqui, enquanto penso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Sem querer, te quero num impulso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Que quase me arranca do lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Junto à minha fome comer com as mãos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Porque parte do princípio que me sujo de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Como quem de alma lavada segue em paz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Amor é desespero que torce por mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;E me torce sem fim até que estremeço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Porque do extremo eu vim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;E para nós nem mesmo o ártico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Comove o ardor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6065866443836572178?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6065866443836572178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6065866443836572178&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6065866443836572178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6065866443836572178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/03/e-junto-ao-teu-corpo-por-gelo.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-359959720603850774</id><published>2010-02-03T08:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T08:32:20.900-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>She falls in love with you everyday.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday more&lt;br /&gt;But moreover she falls&lt;br /&gt;And stands on your way&lt;br /&gt;Don't leave it at that&lt;br /&gt;When she begs you to stay&lt;br /&gt;Another shoulder to cry&lt;br /&gt;Home is not her place for a while&lt;br /&gt;You know it from her feelings&lt;br /&gt;Not from what she can't even say&lt;br /&gt;The end's continuously clear&lt;br /&gt;And the horizon is too far away&lt;br /&gt;Hold her back and take care of that&lt;br /&gt;' Cause she falls in love with you everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-359959720603850774?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/359959720603850774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=359959720603850774&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/359959720603850774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/359959720603850774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/02/she-falls-in-love-with-you-everyday.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-464758212252273514</id><published>2010-01-20T14:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T14:20:17.574-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quero te tirar do meio dos outros&lt;br /&gt;Em outros tempos, eu te teria só pra mim&lt;br /&gt;Abrirei a janela e verei o mais longe que puder&lt;br /&gt;Trarei-te pra perto do meu peito&lt;br /&gt;E você me trará mais pra perto do céu&lt;br /&gt;Quero debaixo do mesmo teto&lt;br /&gt;O tato desgovernado e doce&lt;br /&gt;Que preenche todos os espaços&lt;br /&gt;E escreve na minha pele com a sua caligrafia&lt;br /&gt;Algo que meu coração lê&lt;br /&gt;Então me sento perto de onde você dorme&lt;br /&gt;Eu posso sonhar com isso, posso.&lt;br /&gt;Fecha os olhos meu amor&lt;br /&gt;Os pesadelos não virão&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas terão sempre esse olhar desconfiado&lt;br /&gt;Porque apenas me reconhecem sem você&lt;br /&gt;E a você sem mim&lt;br /&gt;Mas agora se fez ponte&lt;br /&gt;Atravessaremos sempre que quisermos&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu quero acordar te abraçando&lt;br /&gt;E nenhuma realidade me roubará esse pensamento&lt;br /&gt;Só quem não ama mesmo, está enganado.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sei que pode ser ainda muito cedo&lt;br /&gt;Pra que as coisas dêem certo&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu nunca me atraso&lt;br /&gt;Quando desejo com todas as minhas forças&lt;br /&gt;Que não nos percamos de nós.&lt;br /&gt;A nossa verdade sugere apenar amar&lt;br /&gt;Sem promessas públicas&lt;br /&gt;É difícil seguir pelo caminho&lt;br /&gt;De quem não sabe onde vai dar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Essa frieza de mundo é para todos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mas para poucos são os lençóis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E a felicidade que você me traz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Junto com a luz de não sei quantos girassóis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quero me prender a você de um jeito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Que intimide qualquer um de tentar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Desatar nossos nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-464758212252273514?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/464758212252273514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=464758212252273514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/464758212252273514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/464758212252273514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/01/quero-te-tirar-do-meio-dos-outros-em.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5263912951748711425</id><published>2010-01-20T06:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T06:21:54.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ENCONTRO EM VOCÊ UM APOIO BEM VINDO&lt;br /&gt;ESTRANHAMENTE UMA MÃO QUE TIRA E QUE DÁ&lt;br /&gt;VOCÊ ME DEFENDE COMO SE ME TIVESSEE&lt;br /&gt;SUTILMENTE ME ATACA&lt;br /&gt;SUAS PALAVRAS CONFORTAM E DISTRAEM&lt;br /&gt;TOLHEM E TRAZEM DE TI TUDO QUE JÁ NÃO ENGOLE MAIS DA MINHA PESSOA&lt;br /&gt;ENTENDO QUE ME CRITIQUE E QUE ME AME&lt;br /&gt;O AMOR DE SEMPRE E QUE SÓ ACONTECE DE VEZ EM QUANDO&lt;br /&gt;ENCONTRO EM VOCÊ A PORTA SEMPRE ABERTA&lt;br /&gt;A MINHA SAÍDA DO DESENCANTO&lt;br /&gt;O CONSOLO QUE O MUNDO ME COBRA E QUE NÃO DOU&lt;br /&gt;VOCÊ ME TEM SEMPRE QUE PRECISA A SUA CARENTE FRIEZA POR CALOR E AFETO&lt;br /&gt;E EU TE TENHO DURANTE TODOS OS MESES&lt;br /&gt;E TE QUERO POR VOCÊ MESMO&lt;br /&gt;TE QUERO PORQUE VOCÊ ME CABE&lt;br /&gt;ME ESCONDE E ME PROTEGE&lt;br /&gt;E COMPLETA O MEU JEITO ESTRANHO DE SER&lt;br /&gt;SEM COISAS DEFINIDAS&lt;br /&gt;MAS QUE MARCA SEU CORAÇÃO EM ALGUM PONTO&lt;br /&gt;ASSIM COMO EM ALGUM MOMENTO EU TALVEZ VENHA DE FATO ENVELHECER CONTIGO&lt;br /&gt;VAI SABER...&lt;br /&gt;HÁ MUITAS COISAS QUE SE PERDEM DE MIM&lt;br /&gt;E ENCONTRO EM VOCÊ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5263912951748711425?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5263912951748711425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5263912951748711425&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5263912951748711425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5263912951748711425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/01/encontro-em-voce-um-apoio-bem-vindo.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3025030813951271920</id><published>2010-01-13T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T15:41:05.017-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Chegar em casa e me desarmar.&lt;br /&gt;Arriar a alma, o corpo, a fala.&lt;br /&gt;Esperar o outro dia que não tarda a batalha.&lt;br /&gt;A mesma guerra se trava.&lt;br /&gt;E as portas se trancam, reservando apenas o meu estar.&lt;br /&gt;Sair para o mundo desalmada.&lt;br /&gt;Prender a respiração e pendurar o caração para depois.&lt;br /&gt;Já não espera-se de mim mais nada&lt;br /&gt;Que me dôo sem retorno&lt;br /&gt;Visto-me para uma luta despida de conquista&lt;br /&gt;Sinto enjôo dessa rotina&lt;br /&gt;Revirando tudo o que sou&lt;br /&gt;Atirando-me longe do que quero&lt;br /&gt;Tirando logo o que preciso&lt;br /&gt;Jogando-me fora, lar a dentro.&lt;br /&gt;Nada me protege ou defende&lt;br /&gt;Mas separa entre paredes&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que é meu do meu todo.&lt;br /&gt;Espero as voltas que a vida dá&lt;br /&gt;Meus dias amanhecerão outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3025030813951271920?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3025030813951271920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3025030813951271920&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3025030813951271920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3025030813951271920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2010/01/chegar-em-casa-e-me-desarmar.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6206368609722897686</id><published>2009-12-30T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T19:30:56.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu tenho medo dessa mentira.&lt;br /&gt;Desse jeito de se expor.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo desse jogo de personalidade.&lt;br /&gt;E da impessoalidade do nosso amor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo do que dizer.&lt;br /&gt;E se não digo, temo que traio.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo de estar contigo.&lt;br /&gt;Contido no mesmo estrago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo de pensar sobre.&lt;br /&gt;Sobrepor o incerto na realidade.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de quando não vivia&lt;br /&gt;E de não saber até quando viveremos assim&lt;br /&gt;Beirando o fim, e nós pela metade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo da sua vez.&lt;br /&gt;Desse talvez que nunca nos situa.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de que também não te entendam&lt;br /&gt;Que a felicidade poderia ser pra todos&lt;br /&gt;Não fosse inaceitável e incompatível.&lt;br /&gt;Embora a vida seja sua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo das expecativas&lt;br /&gt;Os sonhos que depositam em nós&lt;br /&gt;E que não nos vejam mais como antes&lt;br /&gt;Sinto que estamos a cada dia mais sós.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de te perder, de desistir.&lt;br /&gt;Mas de continuar e se extinguir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo dessa angústia.&lt;br /&gt;Da falta de chão e apoio.&lt;br /&gt;Ir de contra à família&lt;br /&gt;Decepcionar quem nos acolhe&lt;br /&gt;Sentir-se de lado e sem saída.&lt;br /&gt;Medo dessa escolha que nos escolhe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo de como estamos&lt;br /&gt;E dos nossos planos pra amanhã&lt;br /&gt;Tenho medo de não me encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Até lá  ter perdido demais&lt;br /&gt;Medo da falsidade e intolerância&lt;br /&gt;Pelo que sentimos e somos.&lt;br /&gt;Tão sinceramente nos damos.&lt;br /&gt;Tão injustamente os danos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho medo de  mim&lt;br /&gt;Metade apática e resistente&lt;br /&gt;Insegura pendurada no que seja&lt;br /&gt;Quem te vê otimista, articulada e independente.&lt;br /&gt;Conquista nosso espaço que se desfaz&lt;br /&gt;E me completa sempre mais&lt;br /&gt;Ainda que lentamente me deixo levar&lt;br /&gt;E levo a vida sem muito gosto nem gestos&lt;br /&gt;Apenas amarga menos pensar que ficará tudo bem&lt;br /&gt;Porque já não consigo dormir sem te ouvir dizer&lt;br /&gt;'Eu te amo'.&lt;br /&gt;E já não penso em outro alguém&lt;br /&gt;Para quem eu responderia sem medidas&lt;br /&gt;'Eu te amo também'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6206368609722897686?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6206368609722897686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6206368609722897686&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6206368609722897686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6206368609722897686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/12/eu-tenho-medo-dessa-mentira.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3526931375847121100</id><published>2009-12-26T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T19:39:40.837-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Pega a minha mão e me guia pelo asfalto, a estrada que sempre nos levou além. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Tem todos os gostos, gestos e cantos. Conto que o melhor de tudo ainda vem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Pisca para mim e me desorienta, tem gente que não viu o que você quer me mostrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Mesmo inseguro agarro firme e me perco. Tem encontros que terminam sem nem começar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;E o silêncio alcança teus sentidos, sente entre os dedos escorregar o peso do ar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Respira fundo e não pensa, não se prende, não deixa que te falte nada para tentar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Pausa para algum cansaço, segue estreito a distância entre nós. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Usa dos artifícios mais quentes, tantos quantos poderiam esfriar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Pousa sobre o colo e dorme, a derme macia que ninguém mais terá.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3526931375847121100?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3526931375847121100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3526931375847121100&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3526931375847121100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3526931375847121100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/12/pega-minha-mao-e-me-guia-pelo-asfalto.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2376273194643713852</id><published>2009-12-19T07:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T07:55:04.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Errar é útil&lt;br /&gt; Sofrer é chato&lt;br /&gt; Chorar é triste&lt;br /&gt; Sorrir é rápido&lt;br /&gt; Não ver é fácil&lt;br /&gt; Trair é tátil&lt;br /&gt; Olhar é móvel&lt;br /&gt; Falar é mágico&lt;br /&gt; Calar é tático&lt;br /&gt; Desfazer é árduo&lt;br /&gt; Esperar é sábio&lt;br /&gt; Refazer é ótimo&lt;br /&gt; Amar é profundo&lt;br /&gt; E nele sempre cabem de vez&lt;br /&gt; Todos os verbos do mundo&lt;br /&gt; Abraçar é quente&lt;br /&gt; Beijar é chama&lt;br /&gt; Pensar é ser humano&lt;br /&gt; Fantasiar também&lt;br /&gt; Nascer é dar partida&lt;br /&gt; Viver é ser alguém&lt;br /&gt; Saudade é despedida&lt;br /&gt; Morrer um dia vem&lt;br /&gt; Mas amar é profundo&lt;br /&gt; E nele sempre cabem de vez&lt;br /&gt; Todos os verbos do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z.D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2376273194643713852?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2376273194643713852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2376273194643713852&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2376273194643713852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2376273194643713852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/12/errar-e-util-sofrer-e-chato-chorar-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1923099698008465780</id><published>2009-12-10T16:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T17:49:56.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Pôr meus sentimentos em você&lt;br /&gt;Ora como poente, ora como doente de amor.&lt;br /&gt;Posteriormente a tudo que me completava&lt;br /&gt;Você me faz planta&lt;br /&gt;No sufoco respira, cresce e se alastra&lt;br /&gt;Minha felicidade daninha&lt;br /&gt;Danar-se no mundo contigo na mala&lt;br /&gt;E não voltar a este ponto&lt;br /&gt;De partida pra sempre&lt;br /&gt;Amor de verdade e de conto-de-fada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pôr meus sentimentos em você&lt;br /&gt;Como você os sente e os centra&lt;br /&gt;Tudo para uma só pessoa&lt;br /&gt;Não mais só, mas tão somente sua.&lt;br /&gt;Livrar-se do porém&lt;br /&gt;Pelo motivo que nos cerca e nos separa&lt;br /&gt;Nos vem servido de desdém e também&lt;br /&gt;De vazio e de nada&lt;br /&gt;Que justifique tanto&lt;br /&gt;O tanto que a gente guarda&lt;br /&gt;E protege pra não levar-se embora&lt;br /&gt;Brotando uma ferida que nunca sara&lt;br /&gt;De saudade sem dia de volta&lt;br /&gt;De revolta pelos votos que fiz&lt;br /&gt;Que me fez e a falta&lt;br /&gt;Que se faz&lt;br /&gt;Por meus sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;Ficarei mais&lt;br /&gt;Simples e complicado&lt;br /&gt;Como quando se acerta na escolha&lt;br /&gt;E a escolha te faz errado&lt;br /&gt;Beirando fim de começo&lt;br /&gt;Meio do fim e passando&lt;br /&gt;Longe de ti mas também ao  lado&lt;br /&gt;Tentando tocar em frente&lt;br /&gt;Sem toque de pele ou de campainha&lt;br /&gt;Em toque de retirada que nos tira de linha&lt;br /&gt;E nos costura ou embaraça&lt;br /&gt;Vai tecer com nós&lt;br /&gt;Sobre todos os trizes&lt;br /&gt;E dores atrozes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pôr meus sentimentos em você&lt;br /&gt;Ora como posso, ora como peço.&lt;br /&gt;E você dando todos os passos de volta&lt;br /&gt;Sem cair onde eu tropeço&lt;br /&gt;Chegando onde escureço&lt;br /&gt;E tomando o seu lugar&lt;br /&gt;Ao sol, o meu inverno.&lt;br /&gt;Me esquenta e recomeça&lt;br /&gt;Já não passo mais os dias&lt;br /&gt;Longe de quem não devo estar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1923099698008465780?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1923099698008465780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1923099698008465780&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1923099698008465780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1923099698008465780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/12/por-meus-sentimentos-em-voce-ora-como.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8287831529142996338</id><published>2009-11-28T18:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T18:15:06.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu dormia e acordava com suas mensagens todos os dias.&lt;br /&gt;"You have 0 messages in your mailbox".&lt;br /&gt;Gastava tempo e dinheiro fazendo as mesmas coisas que você fazia.&lt;br /&gt;I got money in my pocket and a lot of time on my own.&lt;br /&gt;Me divertia com meus amigos, com seus amigos, com gente que nunca vi na vida.&lt;br /&gt;I work all day, go back home, sleep and wake up early for another tiring day.&lt;br /&gt;Ria com suas piadas, seus comentários, seu jeito.&lt;br /&gt;Now I laugh at mistyped words and my two work mates dealing with clients and boss.&lt;br /&gt;Comia fora com você àquelas comidas deliciosas, nada saudáveis.&lt;br /&gt;Lost the appetite. But I eat, and keep my vital signs.&lt;br /&gt;Os planos pro dia seguinte, pra semana seguinte, pro reveillon, pro carnaval.&lt;br /&gt;The ordinary plans I always had, that are maybe happening. In a million years from now.&lt;br /&gt;As palavras carinhosas, os apelidos, os mimos, as gentilezas.&lt;br /&gt;You post "It's over for me."&lt;br /&gt;As músicas, os lugares, o cheiro, os amigos em comum.&lt;br /&gt;Even the least and stupid thing reminds me of you.&lt;br /&gt;As nossas conversas sem fim, os presentes, os encontros.&lt;br /&gt;I count the days to meet you again. Dreaming I won't lose you before it.&lt;br /&gt;As nossas DRs até o amanhecer.&lt;br /&gt;Never made a difference, when it all means I Love you.&lt;br /&gt;O seu beijo, o seu abraço, a sua mão debaixo da mesa, você se encolhendo pra dormir.&lt;br /&gt;There's a void in my heart. I'm falling apart without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8287831529142996338?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8287831529142996338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8287831529142996338&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8287831529142996338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8287831529142996338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/11/eu-dormia-e-acordava-com-suas-mensagens_8278.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8191106380531788724</id><published>2009-11-25T06:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T06:22:19.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Be calm, and don't be cold.&lt;br /&gt;Please don't be gone...&lt;br /&gt;Give us a little heaven in hell&lt;br /&gt;Be sure that I'm doing my best&lt;br /&gt;Our falling into pieces won't last&lt;br /&gt;You're my only confort in love&lt;br /&gt;And love, please survive through my words&lt;br /&gt;You're so much better than those&lt;br /&gt;I ain't gonna wait 'til you dream&lt;br /&gt;To hold your hand or make a stand&lt;br /&gt;Let go the lows and this pain&lt;br /&gt;All we've been so far is not in vain&lt;br /&gt;Don't misunderstand what I mean&lt;br /&gt;You're the one my hopes live for&lt;br /&gt;We could make it as good as before&lt;br /&gt;Though now it feels as hard as it seems&lt;br /&gt;But there is one thing I have to deal with&lt;br /&gt;That keeps me down and I can't breathe&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing I can do to fix us and see it brand new&lt;br /&gt;But let's take a time&lt;br /&gt;Though nothing in me denies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;How much I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8191106380531788724?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8191106380531788724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8191106380531788724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8191106380531788724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8191106380531788724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/11/be-calm-and-dont-be-cold.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5115771447149260013</id><published>2009-11-24T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T16:51:09.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;Totalmente impotente quando o significado sobrepõe-se à significância.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;E o meu mundo que pesa tanto nesse mundo, hoje está completamente fora de órbita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;br /&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/22841206-5115771447149260013?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5115771447149260013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5115771447149260013&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5115771447149260013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5115771447149260013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/11/totalmente-impotente-quando-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3858308313170297896</id><published>2009-11-24T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T16:36:57.197-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>O que digo não condiz com o que penso não condiz com o que sinto não condiz com o que tento não condiz com o que quero não condiz com o que vivo não condiz com o que sou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3858308313170297896?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3858308313170297896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3858308313170297896&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3858308313170297896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3858308313170297896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/11/o-que-digo-nao-condiz-com-o-que-penso.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5245805904816801057</id><published>2009-11-20T18:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T18:25:31.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>É, o ridículo da vida é a própria vida.&lt;br /&gt;A vida não se explica.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que existe é pra um dia não ser mais.&lt;br /&gt;A gente que enfeita o fim com reticências&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu já tou vendo reticencias como três pontos finais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5245805904816801057?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5245805904816801057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5245805904816801057&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5245805904816801057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5245805904816801057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/11/e-o-ridiculo-da-vida-e-propria-vida.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8638803019913729620</id><published>2009-11-20T18:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T18:17:52.852-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eu sinto dor, sinto vontade de chorar; mas depois de tantas as lágrimas já nem descem mais.&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo evitar que sofram mas ninguém me vê sofrendo.&lt;br /&gt;Tem hora que tenho vontade de rir.&lt;br /&gt;De jogar tudo pro ar, que não tem nada demais no que tá acontecendo.&lt;br /&gt;Coisa de gente doida.&lt;br /&gt;Deve ser o desespero.&lt;br /&gt;A minha ficha não caiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8638803019913729620?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8638803019913729620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8638803019913729620&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8638803019913729620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8638803019913729620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/11/eu-sinto-dor-sinto-vontade-de-chorar.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2921977503446554303</id><published>2009-10-29T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T21:26:00.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Felicidade não está no homem.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está em Deus.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está no corpo.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está na mulher.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está no sexo.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está em casa.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está no mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está numa caixinha de surpresa.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está detrás do muro.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está na paz.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está no dinheiro.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está na beleza.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está na palavra.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está no amor.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade não está com nada.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade É tudo.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que parecer pouco.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que for demais.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que nada for.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que foi.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que há de ser.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade é.&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2921977503446554303?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2921977503446554303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2921977503446554303&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2921977503446554303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2921977503446554303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/10/felicidade-nao-esta-no-homem.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7738364785051046650</id><published>2009-10-29T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:02:31.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Não sei o que você significa&lt;br /&gt;Não sei o quanto significa&lt;br /&gt;Amores são cheios de significados&lt;br /&gt;E de coisas insignificantes&lt;br /&gt;Não sei o que há de tão completo em você&lt;br /&gt;Que me complementa&lt;br /&gt;Se é a sua presença&lt;br /&gt;Ou a sua ausência&lt;br /&gt;As afinidades que não convergem&lt;br /&gt;Se compensam em diferenças&lt;br /&gt;Que acrescentam&lt;br /&gt;Intrigas que nos tiram do eixo&lt;br /&gt;E nos tocam&lt;br /&gt;O amor vai cegando&lt;br /&gt;A medida em que enxergamos&lt;br /&gt;Defeitos que só aumentam&lt;br /&gt;Mas sem lamentos&lt;br /&gt;Eu pelo menos&lt;br /&gt;Te amo tanto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-7738364785051046650?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7738364785051046650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7738364785051046650&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7738364785051046650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7738364785051046650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/10/nao-sei-o-que-voce-significa-nao-sei-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8595859912343914926</id><published>2009-10-26T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T17:45:59.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Hate to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;I love to say I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Hate today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;The day I made my way to leave you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Love to make.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;All the leaves free me through the window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Make me babe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Say that you love today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;That I mean your freedom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8595859912343914926?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8595859912343914926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8595859912343914926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8595859912343914926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8595859912343914926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/10/hate-to-say.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-362256571273189229</id><published>2009-10-18T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T14:43:22.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Não é suficiente.&lt;br /&gt;Rimar palavras sobre a gente.&lt;br /&gt;Eu não tenho tido argumentos.&lt;br /&gt;Nem maneiras, nem todas as coisas&lt;br /&gt;Que me fazem conseguir um poema.&lt;br /&gt;Quando começo nunca termino&lt;br /&gt;E o término é algo que não me interessa&lt;br /&gt;Estou querendo começar tudo de novo&lt;br /&gt;Muitos começos diferentes.&lt;br /&gt;Entre nós, poucas diferenças.&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu tenho sido feliz&lt;br /&gt;Mais do que tenho estado feliz.&lt;br /&gt;Tão ridiculamente.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei se eu sinto o que você sente&lt;br /&gt;Tão genuinamente.&lt;br /&gt;Não dá. Está me saindo piegas esse poema.&lt;br /&gt;Não é suficiente.&lt;br /&gt;Rimar palavras sobre a gente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-362256571273189229?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/362256571273189229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=362256571273189229&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/362256571273189229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/362256571273189229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/10/nao-e-suficiente.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1507091025595916927</id><published>2009-09-29T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T11:00:11.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;No matter where your eyes see me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;You're the place that remains.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Though others will hear my whispering words&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;It is you the silence in me that feels right and true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Yes, my lips may rest upon other lips&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;And still the memory of you will come through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;every confusing feeling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;I'll always look at you and hope you're never gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Never another home but me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Kate Polladsky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1507091025595916927?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1507091025595916927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1507091025595916927&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1507091025595916927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1507091025595916927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-matter-where-your-eyes-see-me-youre.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5479207005342802804</id><published>2009-09-28T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T14:57:33.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>E esta é a melhor fase.&lt;br /&gt;A fase das frases que sempre quis ouvir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5479207005342802804?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5479207005342802804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5479207005342802804&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5479207005342802804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5479207005342802804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/e-esta-e-melhor-fase.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-656935230193356223</id><published>2009-09-26T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T10:34:39.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Pois quando finalmente um novo amor chegar, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Ainda não será tarde demais pra esperar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Diga-lhe que faz  bem não se jogar assim tão de repente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;O amor que vá na frente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Que é pra lhe anunciar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-656935230193356223?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/656935230193356223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=656935230193356223&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/656935230193356223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/656935230193356223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/pois-quando-finalmente-um-novo-amor.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1088818251130397226</id><published>2009-09-24T14:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T14:44:12.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mais um sonhador?&lt;br /&gt;Vá passando.&lt;br /&gt;Tal como o tempo.&lt;br /&gt;As vontades.&lt;br /&gt;As folhas verdes que vão secando.&lt;br /&gt;Os anos, anéis, os nomes, os homens.&lt;br /&gt;Mais um sonhador?&lt;br /&gt;Vai sonhando...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1088818251130397226?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1088818251130397226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1088818251130397226&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1088818251130397226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1088818251130397226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/mais-um-sonhador-va-passando.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6441530737695951676</id><published>2009-09-19T20:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T20:25:57.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Nem se eu esperasse tanto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Tanta coisa fora do lugar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Nem se eu te dissesse o quanto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Faltaria tanto pra chegar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Tem pesares que não valem nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;E passados que demoram a passar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;As coisas que falei pra ti na sala&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Não selaram o nosso bem-estar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Nem se eu segurasse o mundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Ou as horas raras que viveu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Todas as melhores coisas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Passageiras que você me deu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Umas que dispensam até palavras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Calei parte e sei que entendeu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;Muda o rumo das passadas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;E chega em algo que é meu e seu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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;Kate Polladsky&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(182, 221, 232);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6441530737695951676?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6441530737695951676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6441530737695951676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6441530737695951676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6441530737695951676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/nem-se-eu-esperasse-tanto-tanta-coisa.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8932893172445934724</id><published>2009-09-19T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T04:11:19.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Regras para dizer que as cumpri e as quebrei.&lt;br /&gt;Amor para ter um porquê e um porém.&lt;br /&gt;Palavras para dizer que as ouvi e as falei.&lt;br /&gt;Incertezas para dizer que te tentei e consegui.&lt;br /&gt;Destino para ter do que desviar e dar no mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;Fé para sempre e a todo tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Amigos para ter a quem contar e com quem contar.&lt;br /&gt;Autoconfiança para fazer acontecer.&lt;br /&gt;Dinheiro para os loucos.&lt;br /&gt;Loucura para os vivos.&lt;br /&gt;Deus para ter a quem agradecer.&lt;br /&gt;Família para ter pra quem voltar.&lt;br /&gt;Caminho para ter por onde ir.&lt;br /&gt;Sexo pela liberdade de sair de si.&lt;br /&gt;Música pela companhia.&lt;br /&gt;Confiança para ser merecedor.&lt;br /&gt;Gentileza para ser lembrado.&lt;br /&gt;Humano para ser nobre.&lt;br /&gt;Inteligência para ser útil.&lt;br /&gt;Excesso para conhecer os limites.&lt;br /&gt;Grandeza para caber nas coisas mais simples.&lt;br /&gt;Vida para seguir adiante.&lt;br /&gt;Tempo para conhecer.&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã para ter continuação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8932893172445934724?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8932893172445934724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8932893172445934724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8932893172445934724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8932893172445934724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/regras-para-dizer-que-as-cumpri-e-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1277031689800488238</id><published>2009-09-17T04:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T05:42:16.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;O que me esquenta é a frieza com que você anuncia o seu amor. Indiferente aos meus sinais, à minha sina e meus sabores, você me olha torto e sem marcas de dores passadas, conte-me mais sobre, porque de ti eu não sei nada. Apenas as coisas que transpassas sem muita transparência, eu me indago, me engasgo nas palavras e não falaria o que quer que seja pra te conquistar. O que me intriga é a ferida que não me rasgas. Te vejo tão igual à outra gente, mas diferente pois não me maltrata mostrando ser quem não é ou ter o que não tem. Por bem, você é o porém que me tinha de aparecer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&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/22841206-1277031689800488238?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1277031689800488238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1277031689800488238&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1277031689800488238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1277031689800488238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/o-que-me-esquenta-e-frieza-com-que-voce.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8488120101577691370</id><published>2009-09-14T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T20:23:54.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Aonde se instala melhor o céu, é no seu quarto?&lt;br /&gt;Aonde se encaixa melhor o anel, é no seu dedo?&lt;br /&gt;Aonde se encontra melhor a minha vida, é do teu lado?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8488120101577691370?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8488120101577691370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8488120101577691370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8488120101577691370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8488120101577691370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/aonde-se-instala-o-ceu-e-no-seu-quarto.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8205581148249429793</id><published>2009-09-11T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T22:48:05.148-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still think about you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still smell like your perfume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still wanna feel it easy by you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still let you go, but I still miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still tell everyone about you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still behave as if we were never apart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still have my doubts, but I'm a hundred percent sure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still go away but I always go back to the same point&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still avoid even if I do want it so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still renew my old plans with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still live the same feelings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still get hurt to go through the same healing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I still belong to the same obvious love that I ever did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8205581148249429793?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8205581148249429793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8205581148249429793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8205581148249429793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8205581148249429793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-still-think-about-you-i-still-smell.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3237722392527642458</id><published>2009-09-08T22:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T22:41:48.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;And then I fell asleep on your lap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;The road wasn't long, but seemed infinite like the song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;That played me away, with your fingers through my hair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;You were my minute in heaven, as I could never dream of.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;All those good times, it wouldn't be better without you there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;I could loose my eyes on you for a day and take it back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;Knowing that all I could ask for was my heart to hold on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;And let me simply sleep on your lap...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;"&gt;KP&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/22841206-3237722392527642458?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3237722392527642458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3237722392527642458&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3237722392527642458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3237722392527642458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-then-i-fell-asleep-on-your-lap.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-871319402606734880</id><published>2009-09-01T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T11:22:54.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;De agora em diante as coisas serão mais simples.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Tentarei. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Porque as coincidências, elas demoram demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;- Eu estou apaixonada por você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;- Eu também.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-871319402606734880?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/871319402606734880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=871319402606734880&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/871319402606734880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/871319402606734880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/09/de-agora-em-diante-as-coisas-serao-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6705067523833330375</id><published>2009-08-25T21:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T22:16:18.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Enquanto o mundo se divertia e ía à loucura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O meu mundo parava lentamente e buscava chão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Olhei pra toda aquela gente distraída e sem noção&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Eu não estava ali e aquilo era só um momento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sei que não pertenço mais a esse impulso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Não me completa, não me convence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Existe uma tranquilidade que me busca agora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E uma vontade que me atenta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Não encontrei o que procurava nessa caminhada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mas recebi resposta pro que me perguntava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O que senti não foi fábula&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;nem um repente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Por hora se perde ou pouco denomina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nisso tudo uma coisa foi verdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O excesso de afetividade contamina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mas é preciso saber a hora de retroceder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;É importante sair, conhecer o que há lá fora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mas é melhor ainda ter pra onde voltar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Escolhas boas são escolhas que trazem felicidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Quando se segue ou quando se volta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mas diante do vazio em que estive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tive a experiência de assim ter sido &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E também a vontade de jamais ter ido,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pois de quase nada adiantou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Certos lugares  me levaram a certas pessoas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Assim como certas pessoas me levaram a certos lugares&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Independente de que sejam lugares certos, incertos e pessoas certas ou não&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;O melhor lugar em que estive, foi dentro de mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Onde eu precisava estar pra entender que há muito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;mais chances de que eu encontre a mim mesma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;no mundo do qual ainda não desisti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6705067523833330375?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6705067523833330375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6705067523833330375&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6705067523833330375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6705067523833330375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/enquanto-o-mundo-se-divertia-e-ia.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4173215105149353411</id><published>2009-08-23T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T13:37:49.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Eu teria bebido mais, bem mais.&lt;br /&gt;Mas não é por aí.&lt;br /&gt;Eu teria me retirado ao banheiro por mais tempo.&lt;br /&gt;E teria ficado naquela distração de alma e de momento&lt;br /&gt;talvez para todo o sempre.&lt;br /&gt;Longe, eu amava sem limites.&lt;br /&gt;E tinha tudo o que sonhava, porque era sonho e mais nada.&lt;br /&gt;Quando encontro, não sei o que vejo nem o que sinto.&lt;br /&gt;Sei apenas que não é nada daquilo sonhado.&lt;br /&gt;Era um ser perfeito, mas não era iluminado.&lt;br /&gt;Eu teria observado direito.&lt;br /&gt;Queria encontrar você em mim durantes aquelas horas.&lt;br /&gt;Mas foi tão vazio, e doeu tanto.&lt;br /&gt;Eu só queria ter ido embora.&lt;br /&gt;Eu teria fumado todos os cigarros.&lt;br /&gt;Mas a carteira estava vazia e não eram meus.&lt;br /&gt;Eu teria me matado um pouquinho com cada coisa&lt;br /&gt;Pra te arrancar de mim ou trocar mentira por verdade&lt;br /&gt;Mas não é assim.&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo olhar na cara, contudo não consigo não olhar&lt;br /&gt;Contigo nada do que sou funciona&lt;br /&gt;E eu não quero mais pensar&lt;br /&gt;Já se foram muitas tentativas, muitos traços, muitos riscos&lt;br /&gt;E tudo o que tive foi um pouco, um pouquinho, ou menos ainda.&lt;br /&gt;Depois de poucas conversas e muitas indagações&lt;br /&gt;O meu coração foi acordado a tapas e socos&lt;br /&gt;Eu te olhei de longe, sempre de longe&lt;br /&gt;E pra tudo o que havia ao seu redor eu poderia ter dito que desisto&lt;br /&gt;Mas o que eu sentia por você foi se quebrando em pedaços&lt;br /&gt;E chegando até os outros, eu conquistei todos. E todos me conquistaram.&lt;br /&gt;Eu poderia ter me perdido mais, bem mais.&lt;br /&gt;Isso foi há um dia atrás.&lt;br /&gt;Já é tempo de esquecer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4173215105149353411?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4173215105149353411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4173215105149353411&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4173215105149353411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4173215105149353411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-teria-bebido-mais-bem-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-406367747271810488</id><published>2009-08-23T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T13:00:53.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Good bye disco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Rays, colours, noise, freaks, dance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;The night and the weaks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Anestesy and headache.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;The thoughts and the hearthache.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Kids move as fast as my world stops.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;And I can't feel my steps into that lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Bodies, buddies and bunnies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;They all know who they are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Oh they are everything they want for a night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Life is not dark all the week along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Waiting for another Saturday light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;I don't know what for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;If tomorrow wakes up outside that door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;He grabs me but it's not my kiss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;She stares at me but it's not my bliss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;The roof is the sky and I won't gaze it again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Go cool. Go crazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;That's such a crazy lie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Good bye disco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Good bye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Kate Polladsky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-406367747271810488?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/406367747271810488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=406367747271810488&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/406367747271810488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/406367747271810488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/good-bye-disco.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1215909027419102319</id><published>2009-08-21T21:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T21:07:55.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;Há muito tempo venho adormecendo contigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;Há dois dias acordei com você dizendo "que bom que você está aqui"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;E apenas por isso o meu mundo tem se mantido acordado e vibrante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;Ás vezes funciona amar. Embora seja quase sempre frustrante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;E a gente que nada foi ou nada é, ainda consegue se manter e significar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;Eu só queria que entre uma palavra doce ou outra que você diz, eu pudesse ficar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;Um pouco mais do que ficar, pudesse até permanecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas as coisas não são assim. E na verdade, meu amor, você não me vê adormecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;"&gt;KP&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/22841206-1215909027419102319?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1215909027419102319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1215909027419102319&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1215909027419102319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1215909027419102319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/ha-muito-tempo-venho-adormecendo.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1482351624261497244</id><published>2009-08-17T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T21:50:28.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Há coisas que mudam por demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Coisas quem antes me vinham rápidas, hoje nem andam mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;O tempo poda e vai moldando a realidade como quer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;É cruel e nervoso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Como um professor que sabe tanto; que fala uma vez, e não quer ensinar de novo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Eu tive todas as dúvidas, e isso o tempo não conseguiu mudar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;As minhas dúvidas permanecem, não é porque algumas foram vividas que então morreram.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Apenas em certos dias elas se atrasaram e em outros, acordaram mais cedo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Sempre voltam dentro de mim perguntando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Sobre o que fazer com tanto e com quase nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Com as perdas e danos da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;E com tudo em que escolhi acreditar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Nada mesmo permanece igual ou sai intacto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Por mais que os caminhos se cubram de pedras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Vem os passos que pisam e mudam a forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;A forma das pedras ou a forma de caminhar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;E assim eu já não sou a mesma que era&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Por uma questão de mudança rápida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Sou um quem diria, de ontem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Um quero dizer, de agora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;E de amanhã, um quem dera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Kate Polladsky&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/22841206-1482351624261497244?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1482351624261497244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1482351624261497244&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1482351624261497244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1482351624261497244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/ha-coisas-que-mudam-por-demais.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4560553601486604603</id><published>2009-08-12T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T17:05:25.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Eu sempre fui quem eu sou, e foi exatamente isso que te contei. Mas é exatamente nisso em que somos diferentes. Não era você o meu espelho? Quebrou-se. Ouviu? Não existe mais semblante, nem duas almas parecidas nem duas pessoas diferentes que se juntam. Pedaços, pedaços refletem um pouquinho do que parecia e perecia. Até que então, morreu. Meu amor, meus poemas, minha admiração, minha dose de confiança e a lembrança é a unica coisa bonita que se tem. Adeus, é o que se tem pra hoje, que de hoje em diante você não sou eu. Não tem nada disso; nada a ver; nem um risco; nem um traço; nem um troco eu dou pelo mal que você fez. Deixa assim, que se foi e não é mais, que se foi não volta. E outra, eu não volto mais atrás.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__________.&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&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/22841206-4560553601486604603?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4560553601486604603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4560553601486604603&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4560553601486604603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4560553601486604603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-sempre-fui-quem-eu-sou-e-foi.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8081422242836171030</id><published>2009-08-10T14:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T14:34:12.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Alguém em quem ela confiava muito a traiu. Pela moral, pela amizade, pelos segredos, pelas vontades, pelas vezes, pela voz. Mas foi pelas mentiras que a traiu. Pelo excesso de verdade inventada. Pelos detalhes dispensáveis. E agora o que fazer? Tornou-se descrente então discretamente se afasta. Ganhou  uma aposta que fez consigo mesma. E agora os fatos se desenrolam pelas suas costas; mas por dentro ela ri. Como poderia alguém pensar que chegaria longe caminhando com as pernas curtas da mentira? Que decepção. Quem nem surpresa é. [KP]&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/22841206-8081422242836171030?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8081422242836171030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8081422242836171030&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8081422242836171030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8081422242836171030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/alguem-em-quem-ela-confiava-muito-traiu.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6529594897238653470</id><published>2009-08-08T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T20:49:09.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i-gjpYyR5fY/Sn5G6I50-FI/AAAAAAAAAfI/OqnUK4U4PCM/s1600-h/selo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i-gjpYyR5fY/Sn5G6I50-FI/AAAAAAAAAfI/OqnUK4U4PCM/s320/selo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367805770508597330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que cousa linda! Muito feliz por ganhar mais um selo! Agradecendo de coração à Vanessa, leitora do blog. Pessoinha especial que sempre tá por aqui. Thank you girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[As regras para aqueles que recebem o selo:&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;strong style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Colocar o selo no seu blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;strong style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Indicar 10 blogs que você adore.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Informar os premiados.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-style: italic;"&gt;4.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Dizer 5 coisas que você adora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presenteio este selo aos meus queridos blogs, novos e veteranos na minha lista de leitura (um tanto atrasada, confesso). Mas obrigada pelas visitas, comentários ou apenas por escreverem o que gosto tanto de ler. Valeu! Os blogs são:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://euresguardo.blogspot.com/"&gt;Você cometeu um engano&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://criticalwatcher.blogspot.com/"&gt;Palavras quase ocultas de um ser real&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://20minutegirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;20minutegirl&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://cafeteria24horas.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cafeteria 24h&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lightmyway-ultraviolet.blogspot.com/"&gt;Baby Light My Way!&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://milcasantos.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pensamentos Soltos;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tempo-do-tempo.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rabiscos de mim&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://oquemevierarealgana.blogspot.com/"&gt;O que me vier à real gana&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://enfermo-sonhador.blogspot.com/"&gt;Enfermo Sonhador&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://palabrasliquidas.blogspot.com/"&gt;Palavras Líquidas.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 coisas que gosto:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tocar violão/guitarra&lt;br /&gt;Cozinhar&lt;br /&gt;Internet&lt;br /&gt;Escrever&lt;br /&gt;Sebos/Livrarias/Lojas de música&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maravilha, beijos!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6529594897238653470?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6529594897238653470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6529594897238653470&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6529594897238653470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6529594897238653470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/08/que-cousa-linda-muito-feliz-por-ganhar.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i-gjpYyR5fY/Sn5G6I50-FI/AAAAAAAAAfI/OqnUK4U4PCM/s72-c/selo2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3631313706190636302</id><published>2009-07-31T11:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T11:51:33.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p style='text-align: justify'&gt;&lt;span style='color:#d9d9d9'&gt;I can't stand in your way. Let's choose a path and then we go. I'll open the doors and the steps will come through. I'll open the windows and the light will come though. And you'll open your mind for me to come through. While the power of ignorance open fire and the lives come through. At some point I will close my eyes. But all my intentions, actions and memories will remain open. I don't know about you, I chose not to stand in your way. It is open too; it's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style='text-align: justify'&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style='text-align: justify'&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#d9d9d9'&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3631313706190636302?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3631313706190636302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3631313706190636302&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3631313706190636302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3631313706190636302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-cant-stand-in-your-way.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3847920945959657033</id><published>2009-07-25T05:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T05:10:13.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Não sabendo que era só um gostar, ela foi lá e amou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: verdana;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3847920945959657033?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3847920945959657033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3847920945959657033&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3847920945959657033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3847920945959657033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/nao-sabendo-que-era-so-um-gostar-ela.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8009969498726197294</id><published>2009-07-19T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T20:42:56.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Foi uma distração.&lt;br /&gt;A minha vontade era de sumir.&lt;br /&gt;Isto é chão onde piso agora?&lt;br /&gt;Não me perco de mim a toda hora.&lt;br /&gt;Mas por aquela porta eu não entrarei mais.&lt;br /&gt;Meus pensamentos permutam.&lt;br /&gt;Entre pesares e pelo menos.&lt;br /&gt;Mas há pesadelos que nenhuma diferença faz.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sei quem eu sou e só quero estar em paz&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã verei o sol nascer&lt;br /&gt;E essa mesma luz deixará tão nítido&lt;br /&gt;O quanto dei de mim, o quanto me custou&lt;br /&gt;Momentos não pagam o sossego&lt;br /&gt;Mas uma vida toda de correções&lt;br /&gt;De rumos e raríssimos mimos&lt;br /&gt;Sei que mereço as coisas boas e verdadeiras&lt;br /&gt;Máscaras só para os carnavais&lt;br /&gt;Prêmios e recompensas da vida&lt;br /&gt;Eles me chegam tímidos demais&lt;br /&gt;Me olham, me encaram e duvidam ainda&lt;br /&gt;Vou construíndo enquanto me destruíndo&lt;br /&gt;E vivendo da arte que isso me traz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8009969498726197294?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8009969498726197294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8009969498726197294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8009969498726197294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8009969498726197294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/foi-uma-distracao.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5041563740884768755</id><published>2009-07-18T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:31:44.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Chegou a hora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Eu estou de saída, mas não estou indo embora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Foi muito difícil estar com você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Mas sempre tão fácil ficar com você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Distância é ainda a medida mais certa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Nela não caberá outra pessoa além de nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;E tem as lembranças que me aquecem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;A frieza que nos cerca sequer importa tanto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Por você eu aguento, nem sabia o quanto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;As luzes acesas, as portas abertas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;O mundo não dorme mais...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Não deixam nosso mundo em paz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;O que ninguém vê é o que não está&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;em gavetas, fotos, cartas e outros detalhes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;O melhor ninguém pode ter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;O amor que eu trago e guardei pra você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Eu sei que falho enquanto te espero&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Mas só de te encontrar já é um recomeço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;E desde o início quando chegamos a um concenso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;De que somente o acaso nós bastaria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Eu não estaria em todos os lugares que estive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;E sequer saberia do quão longe eu iria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Se você não me fizesse sentido, se não completasse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;meus dias, se de algum jeito eu não me aborrecesse e depois risse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Não posso exigir tanto, nem sou o melhor exemplo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Mas eu te escuto, te entendo, te defendo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Temos estado por um triz, mas nem lamento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;O lado mais insuportável da nossoa felicidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Não é suficiente pra nos afastar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Pessoas aprenderão com a vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Enquanto vivemos do jeito que parece certo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;E gostar de quem somos não é um erro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;É só mesmo um aperto pelo qual passamos que nos junta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Por mais que pareça não dar certo a gente tenta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;E tantas coisas acontecem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Se alguma incerteza apareçe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;E qualquer deslize nos ameace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Não se esqueça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;De voltar ao ponto onde começamos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Porque você é a minha certeza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;"  &gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5041563740884768755?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5041563740884768755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5041563740884768755&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5041563740884768755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5041563740884768755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/chegou-hora.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3376801395172263464</id><published>2009-07-14T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T01:02:17.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sou piegas.&lt;br /&gt;Já te disse que faço as coisas meio sem gosto.&lt;br /&gt;Você diz que gosta assim mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;Deve ser você um grau mais avançado de pieguice.&lt;br /&gt;Que dá até piedade.&lt;br /&gt;Como pode? Alguém ser melhor do que eu piorado?&lt;br /&gt;Para sempre haverei de te admirar errado.&lt;br /&gt;Chega um momento que até me confundo.&lt;br /&gt;Assim como você confunde minha lentidão com meiguice.&lt;br /&gt;Juro que queria te entender mais rápido.&lt;br /&gt;E reparar os meus atos rebeldes sem raspar do fundo do pote os fatos.&lt;br /&gt;Mas se eu erro e não percebo você também passa batido.&lt;br /&gt;Nós somos dois tranquilos fracassados.&lt;br /&gt;Já está pra amanhecer e sequer dormimos juntos.&lt;br /&gt;Pra quem diabos eu vou dizer:&lt;br /&gt;Você gosta dos ovos mexidos ou mal passados?&lt;br /&gt;Passo o tempo catando os minutos como piolhos na cabeça do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;E sou quem já está se descabelando.&lt;br /&gt;Quando é que você virá pra consertar o pinga-pinga aqui onde moro?&lt;br /&gt;E quando é que você virá consertar minha vida onde moras?&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho mais de quem rir, com quem rir. Eu sempre rio de você.&lt;br /&gt;Não tem quem me dê agonia quando troca frustrante por frustante.&lt;br /&gt;Pareço até uma velha solitária nessa rede armada no quarto.&lt;br /&gt;Você era uma boa desculpa para o balanço e para os amassos.&lt;br /&gt;Mas...você diz que sou uma chatice.&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém te completa como eu. Até sua mãe já disse.&lt;br /&gt;Alguém tem que fazer o trabalho sujo né?&lt;br /&gt;Alguma idiota tem que ser útil e impor as regras.&lt;br /&gt;Regra número um: Que seja eterno enquanto duro.&lt;br /&gt;Regra número dois é mais uma piada piegas.&lt;br /&gt;Quando casarmos não aluarei em cabanas de Bora Bora.&lt;br /&gt;Quando casarmos me perderei em Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho vontade de casar na verdade&lt;br /&gt;Eu sempre quis que você fosse o meu pé-de-lã&lt;br /&gt;Que entra e sai caladinho&lt;br /&gt;E me beija com gosto de hortelã&lt;br /&gt;O que mais gosto em você é que você é ateu&lt;br /&gt;Não torce para time nenhum.&lt;br /&gt;A sala é somente para assuntos urgentes:&lt;br /&gt;Me jogar no sofá e a TV ligar só.&lt;br /&gt;Tem coisa melhor do que nós dois?&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas finas e sem sentido a sós.&lt;br /&gt;Ficaremos ricos juntos:&lt;br /&gt;Rolls Rice será uma nova marca importada de arroz.&lt;br /&gt;Agora me peça qualquer coisa que eu te faço.&lt;br /&gt;Fazer com jeitinho? Mas sem piúbas no final?&lt;br /&gt;Eu nem gosto do jeito que você me pede as coisas.&lt;br /&gt;Parece até que é má vontade e sempre a esmo.&lt;br /&gt;Farei de um jeito bem piegas.&lt;br /&gt;Vai dizer que gosta assim mesmo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3376801395172263464?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3376801395172263464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3376801395172263464&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3376801395172263464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3376801395172263464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/sou-piegas.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1375862252798870593</id><published>2009-07-13T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T21:55:23.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Eu soube que você se deixou levar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Um beijo no seu lado oculto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;São milhões de luminárias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;  Dividindo o mesmo vulto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Segredos são pecados mal guardados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Pelo menos neste lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Imaginei muito antes de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E tudo era questão de esperar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Nós dois sabemos como podemos ser&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Eu percebi como a sua palavra fugia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Olha só o que você fez, quem diria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Tudo tem sua hora e o lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E às vezes a gente vai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Apenas pra ver como é&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Lavar o peito de uma besteira qualquer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Quantas cores pintaram o branco na sua cabeça?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Para que se apagasse a razão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Depois vai me dizer 'esqueça'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E eu não te direi se gostei ou não&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Detestável a sua consideração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Foi ridículo o que você fez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Precisarei contar a dez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Antes de responder as suas perguntas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E de aguentar as suas lamúrias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Você não sabe ser um mistério&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Não tenta me tirar do sério&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que há tanto com o que eu me preocupar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Volta ao escuro e faz a mesma besteira de novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Vai com os outros até você se encontrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1375862252798870593?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1375862252798870593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1375862252798870593&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1375862252798870593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1375862252798870593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/eu-soube-que-voce-se-deixou-levar-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3471905816958605831</id><published>2009-07-13T15:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T15:36:28.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dificilmente eu entenderia o meu mundo como você entende.&lt;br /&gt;Dificilmente eu me atreveria como você se atreve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3471905816958605831?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3471905816958605831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3471905816958605831&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3471905816958605831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3471905816958605831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/dificilmente-eu-entenderia-o-meu-mundo.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7303718521569103580</id><published>2009-07-13T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T15:26:04.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Pensando bem, quantas milhares de dúvidas sutis caberiam no seu talvez?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Amor, você era a certeza que eu tinha e não haveria outra vez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a id="publishButton" class="cssButton" href="javascript:void(0)" target="" onclick="if (this.className.indexOf(&amp;quot;ubtn-disabled&amp;quot;) == -1) {var e = document['stuffform'].publish;(e.length) ? e[0].click() : e.click(); if (window.event) window.event.cancelBubble = true; return false;}"&gt;&lt;div class="cssButtonOuter"&gt;&lt;div class="cssButtonMiddle"&gt;&lt;div class="cssButtonInner"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-7303718521569103580?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7303718521569103580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7303718521569103580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7303718521569103580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7303718521569103580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/pensando-bem-quantas-milhares-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8562492701926914358</id><published>2009-07-13T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T15:05:59.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;É extremamente caótico amar alguém.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Mas depois que dói e você chora, vem a calmaria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Então você sente que não cabe mais ninguém dentro de si.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Nem mesmo o peso da própria alma nem a leveza de uma alegria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Eu poderia evaporar agora, e ser levada pra longe dessa agonia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Que não me dá mais espaço, paz ou ar puro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Aqui as pálpebras se fecham em sinal de cansaço e não de delírio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Achei bonito os corpos que se gostam deitados sobre a grama distraídos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Achei perfeito quando os olhares se encontraram e jamais perderam foco sob ameaça de qualquer ruído&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Mas eu não adoecerei da felicidade de outrem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Deixa passar a vontade, o sentimento, a saudade, a espera, o efeito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Os dias se dão para que eu os peguem pelas mãos e juntos esqueçamos tudo isso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Amor é um prejuízo que muitos têm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Não é desculpa para solidão, mas o coração vai às tapas com a sofreguidão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Por muitas vezes penso se quero ir além&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Há muito estou sofrendo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;É extremamente caótico amar alguém.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8562492701926914358?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8562492701926914358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8562492701926914358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8562492701926914358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8562492701926914358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/e-extremamente-caotico-amar-alguem.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-619913863828472570</id><published>2009-07-10T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T20:40:32.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Penso no beijo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Penso no abraço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;De pessoas diferentes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;De sentimentos verdadeiros.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;E dos meus verdadeiros embaraços.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Não vale a pena morrer por um beijo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Quando me faz mais feliz o abraço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Me tira o frio da espinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Aquece o meu dia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;E me faz esquecer da teimosia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;De tentar todas as vezes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Sem nunca cair em si.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Já se passaram meses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Eu não deveria mais estar assim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Então eu não sei o que me completa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Mas sinto falta de alguém por perto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Meus pensamentos estão relapsos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Meu coração está até incerto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Gostar e sentir falta começa a perder sentido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Não é muito diferente do que sempre tem sido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;E nem sei como tenho aguentado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;É bom pôr um fim logo nisso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Não quero mais pensar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Nem nem beijo nem em abraço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-619913863828472570?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/619913863828472570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=619913863828472570&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/619913863828472570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/619913863828472570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/penso-no-beijo.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3276453400646955309</id><published>2009-07-09T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T07:04:04.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You're all I keep lookin' at&lt;br /&gt;While I'm lost between empty streets and empty home&lt;br /&gt;From fine to better, yeah love...I'm moving on&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday, it was a common bad of mine&lt;br /&gt;By thinking too much of you, there're things I realise&lt;br /&gt;I'll come back the same&lt;br /&gt;Old feelings, old love, old everything&lt;br /&gt;It won't change until...&lt;br /&gt;Well, I prayed last night, love&lt;br /&gt;I gave all of myself on a bet to god&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he could save me from you&lt;br /&gt;He would have said I must abstract and react&lt;br /&gt;I'm through the phase of confusion&lt;br /&gt;I can differ now catchable and illusion&lt;br /&gt;Though I know I treated you good&lt;br /&gt;Guess I'm out, this is it&lt;br /&gt;It was never something, but this is it&lt;br /&gt;Ain't gonna hold my steps around your shoes&lt;br /&gt;I see teh dust coming down...&lt;br /&gt;And I'm happy because I'm about&lt;br /&gt;To forget you... To let you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3276453400646955309?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3276453400646955309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3276453400646955309&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3276453400646955309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3276453400646955309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/youre-all-i-keep-lookin-at-while-im.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-7542489716403564481</id><published>2009-07-07T13:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T14:44:47.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Tudo parte do princípio de que eu te amo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Ainda que eu seja alguém sem princípios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Especialmente para com o amor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Gosto dele quando desfalece dentro de mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Sem que eu perceba quando se esvai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E toda química que me tomava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Já não era ácida, não me corroía&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Não me acidentava, a queda constante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Os cortes em pedaços do coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;No meu peito lavado, que outrora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Sofria o desgraçado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Agora, balelea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Eu te amo, mas não acredito nisso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;O amor me assiste feito novela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Choro lágrimas de crocodilo por ela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Eu estou testando a minha resistência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;A duras penas, pelas coisas que penso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E eu sei que penso só. É tenso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Mas quero me conter, quero rédeas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Você é minha tragédia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E sou a sua comédia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Rirei da dor shakespeareana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Regra nenhuma cede&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Sede vós a minha sede!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Que eu bebo, engasgo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E tomo o ar nos pulmões novamente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Até que eu volte a me saciar contente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Com outro amor, outra liberdade disfarçada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Ah eu me sinto livre por te amar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Mas tudo me prende a você!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;É farça, de uma força enorme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Que a gente aguenta, tenta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E toma na cara. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Até a próxima, meu bem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Quando a gente se apaixonar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E eu me arrepender&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Vai ser bom enquanto não doer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;É que até então você ainda é meu vício&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Anestesia tudo, rio do mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E não sinto pena de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Sinto apenas quando o efeito passa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;E você me pesa, me sufoca, me ataca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Até que eu morra de graça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Que ódio! Que nada...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Vai passar. Eu já amei novamente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Mas não amei diferente ainda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Será que há outra maneira? Será?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Se tudo parte do mesmo princípio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Que o amor cega, e paralisa a mente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;É biologicamente inviável, mas é reversível&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Eu não tiro a razão do amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Mas o amor sim, tira a nossa razão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Prova de que o amor não é justo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Mas é justamente isso!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Eu assim como o amor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Sou alguém sem princípios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-7542489716403564481?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/7542489716403564481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=7542489716403564481&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7542489716403564481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/7542489716403564481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/tudo-parte-do-principio-de-que-eu-te.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6840586952136596565</id><published>2009-07-05T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T14:10:46.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;O que foi que eu fiz, comparado ao que você fez?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;O que me importa as dores ou despeito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Entre o seu sentimento que me engana &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E o meu sentimento que te engana&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Concluí o mais simples de tudo isso&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Eu te amo tanto quanto você me ama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;KP&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6840586952136596565?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6840586952136596565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6840586952136596565&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6840586952136596565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6840586952136596565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-que-foi-que-eu-fiz-comparado-ao-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-537443096397471583</id><published>2009-06-30T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T21:23:07.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Nem mesmo as pessoas próximas são tão próximas assim. As mais fiéis, mentem. As mais queridas, desmerecem. As mais bem vindas saem. Nem mesmo os mais merecedores ganham. Os mais responsáveis servem. Os mais esperados ficam. Nem mesmo eu acreditei no que vi, vivi e senti. Depois de ter passado por pessoas e pessoas notei que a maior parte delas passou por mim apenas para virarem passado. Outras continuam, não como sempre foram. Menos reconhecíveis. Algumas menos admiráveis. Que deram com uma mão e tiraram com a outra. Nem mesmo eu, sei em quais confiar. Para uns confio o corpo, para outros o coração, para poucos confio a minha alma. Para mim, confio tudo o que sou. É o mais próximo que chego de cada um de nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-537443096397471583?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/537443096397471583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=537443096397471583&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/537443096397471583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/537443096397471583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/nem-mesmo-as-pessoas-proximas-sao-tao.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8272585328880769373</id><published>2009-06-30T20:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T21:03:57.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:10;color:#a6a6a6;"&gt;Sem fim; sem razão; sem pétala, apenas um esboço firme do coração – Eu vi o inacabado acabar comigo. A corda bamba que me sustentava rompeu-se, e com ela mesma fui enforcada. Não doeu, não doeu nada. Eu apenas morri por aquele instante, mais um importante. Que não valeu nada. Sinceramente, que parede macia a que eu bati a cara. Queria pulso firme, e o mais duro desfecho. O que eu merecia? Fala. É somente quando nada mais funciona, quando se perde o passo, o pensamento, a paciência e o passar do tempo já deixou sua marca. A sua vida para. E pede por um adeus. Pelo significado que eu te dava. Aqui jaz. Amor? Mandei às favas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:10;color:#a6a6a6;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:10;color:#a6a6a6;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:10;color:#a6a6a6;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;É tarde pra umas coisas.&lt;br /&gt;Pra outras é tarde demais.&lt;br /&gt;E pra outras ainda, já vou tarde.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:10;color:#a6a6a6;"&gt;Kate Polladsky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8272585328880769373?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8272585328880769373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8272585328880769373&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8272585328880769373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8272585328880769373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/sem-fim-sem-razao-sem-petala-apenas-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-8463532385917346142</id><published>2009-06-30T10:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T10:18:53.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Com os relacionamentos anteriores aprendi:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nunca tive relacionamentos. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Só minutos de felicidade.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Agora quero horas, dias, meses, anos e uma vida inteira.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-8463532385917346142?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/8463532385917346142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=8463532385917346142&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8463532385917346142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/8463532385917346142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/com-os-relacionamentos-anteriores.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2685761267852002001</id><published>2009-06-29T16:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T16:15:13.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;E como quem já não tinha nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt; Perdeu algo mais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Perdeu-se ou deu-se por perdida. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Um passo atrás em ida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Alguém a viu ser feliz enquanto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Fugia pela porta de saída?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Alguém a viu enquanto sorria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Se ela não chorava por dentro ou não morria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Faltando pedaços, contornos e continuações&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Alguém a avise da sua vida errada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Se ela já não podia, já não devia, já não queria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Foi tentando assim, sonhando sim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Sendo quem quer que seria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Não se sabe o que se ganha com isso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Ela que já amarelou se é que amaria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Como é que ela diria...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Ficaria calada, é ficaria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;É como quem já não tinha nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;E se preparava para não ter algo mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;Faria sempre por onde merecer o melhor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;E então, perderia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7'&gt;KP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2685761267852002001?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2685761267852002001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2685761267852002001&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2685761267852002001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2685761267852002001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/e-como-quem-ja-nao-tinha-nada.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-6177294001137905826</id><published>2009-06-29T11:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T11:50:32.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7; font-family:Tw Cen MT Condensed; font-size:20pt; text-decoration:underline'&gt;You are. You Just don't know it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='color:#b2a1c7; font-family:Tw Cen MT Condensed; font-size:16pt'&gt;Kate Polladsky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-6177294001137905826?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/6177294001137905826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=6177294001137905826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6177294001137905826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/6177294001137905826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-are_29.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-5587810879290200942</id><published>2009-06-21T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T18:07:12.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Como você pode me deixar assim?&lt;br /&gt;Desconcertantemente só?&lt;br /&gt;Como você pode terminar assim&lt;br /&gt;As palavras antes mesmo que eu me importe&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes é muito mais fácil me desprender&lt;br /&gt;É muito menos fácil eu entender&lt;br /&gt;Mas com você é tudo ao contrário&lt;br /&gt;Como pode, tanto tempo sem te ver&lt;br /&gt;Você que sempre cumpre seus horários&lt;br /&gt;Eu já nem sei o que é um dia normal&lt;br /&gt;E quase achei que tinha que ter você aqui&lt;br /&gt;Praquelas conversas bobas coisa e tal&lt;br /&gt;Também pensei que pensava mas não&lt;br /&gt;Eu só te amava&lt;br /&gt;Então de hoje em diante eu estou mal&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes é tão raro&lt;br /&gt;Tão raro não é às vezes&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes eu reparo&lt;br /&gt;Reparando as vezes&lt;br /&gt;Que você se olha no espelho e sorri&lt;br /&gt;Parece a até mesmo que me ama&lt;br /&gt;Parece até mesmo que me quer&lt;br /&gt;Quando até o seu cabelo está melhor&lt;br /&gt;Do que realmente é&lt;br /&gt;E depois de muitos nãos me sai um sim&lt;br /&gt;São coisas que me fazem desistir&lt;br /&gt;De ter controle e fim&lt;br /&gt;Tudo bem, eu finalmente vi&lt;br /&gt;Você é bem mais do que eu queria ter&lt;br /&gt;Até além do que meus olhos podem ver&lt;br /&gt;E assim, não gosto quando você duvida&lt;br /&gt;Que eu volto sempre ao mesmo ponto de partida&lt;br /&gt;Só pra lembrar, isso que está dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;Já que se espalha na minha vida, me diga&lt;br /&gt;Como você pode me deixar assim?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;KP&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-5587810879290200942?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/5587810879290200942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=5587810879290200942&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5587810879290200942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/5587810879290200942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/como-voce-pode-me-deixar-assim.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-1333716600846196557</id><published>2009-06-19T21:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T21:23:51.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nada absolutamente me pertence desde o dia em que você parou de frente aos meus olhos, numa sala, num corredor, num pátio, numa ida e vinda qualquer. Os meus pensamentos, minhas vontades, meu corpo, meus dias. Nada é meu. Você se dana no mundo como quer e com quem quer, nem sequer sabe que me leva e jamais devolve. Eu deixo de existir a cada minuto que você traça seu caminho? Estou aqui para todos os fatores de corpo presente e espero que aproveitem bem essa minha materialidade ausente e inerte. Quando voltar, não esqueça de me roubar mais um tanto do que sou. Já tem até o teu nome no pouco que restou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-1333716600846196557?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/1333716600846196557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=1333716600846196557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1333716600846196557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/1333716600846196557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/nada-absolutamente-me-pertence-desde-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3211268681552365621</id><published>2009-06-16T19:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T19:34:02.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Hoje é uma exceção.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei, talvez seja a continuação de algo novo.&lt;br /&gt;Momento em que estou bem, apenas porque parei algumas coisas,desisti de outras,&lt;br /&gt;Livrei-me de tanto que daria pra pôr num livro de levezas e densidades.&lt;br /&gt;Nessa idade, eu me rendo.&lt;br /&gt;Não quero perder tanto tempo sem retorno.&lt;br /&gt;Continuo teimando, conduzindo meus passos errados, na contramão, pegando carona, pagando caro, e apreciando a vista de vento suave ou ventania.&lt;br /&gt;Torcendo pra que essa mania nunca se acabe, que o prazer quase demore e no fim de tudo se solidifique.&lt;br /&gt;Eu amei muito, num passado contínuo, com uma dor maldita, uma vitória malfeita e um final mal acabado.&lt;br /&gt;Mas uma hora eu virei as costas, a página, o jogo.&lt;br /&gt;Não entendo o uso dos por quês.&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho porque me explicar ou me estender tanto.&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas diferentes me fizeram sentir diferente, sem muita diferença. Ainda estou por decidir se terceiros manipulam o que sinto ou se minhas reações são mesmo tão sensíveis à luz que cada um emite na minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;Ainda estou por decidir se vivi por isso ou se, por isso, vivi.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu assumi o impensável. Sem respostas, sem perguntas, cem milhões de controles dispensáveis.&lt;br /&gt;Eu só precisava sair e respirar.&lt;br /&gt;Precisava ver de tudo, sem tanto o que enxergar. Há vezes em que faz bem cegar-se do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Considero-me vivida por uma brevidade.&lt;br /&gt;Falei loucuras, falhei horrores, fingi na hora de rir e com uma palavra fiz pessoas mais felizes do que sempre fui.&lt;br /&gt;É verdade que tudo isso se espalha no tempo, são partículas aleatórias.&lt;br /&gt;Mas honestamente, o meu saldo tem sido muito positivo.&lt;br /&gt;E hoje, não é uma exceção.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3211268681552365621?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3211268681552365621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3211268681552365621&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3211268681552365621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3211268681552365621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/hoje-e-uma-excecao.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-4251407839242633796</id><published>2009-06-16T07:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T07:20:47.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Silly heart, sober heart.&lt;br /&gt;Seems to finally quiet down.&lt;br /&gt;Go with the flow says the song&lt;br /&gt;I may just close my eyes and move along&lt;br /&gt;I may just forget it and let it go&lt;br /&gt;Learning the hardest way&lt;br /&gt;Tasting the bitter tastes&lt;br /&gt;But it’s when I find myself amongst the waste&lt;br /&gt;I paid the price many many times&lt;br /&gt;Now I rest my bones and feel the vibe&lt;br /&gt;Silly heart will have to wait&lt;br /&gt;Sober heart will have to make&lt;br /&gt;You got me there lost in the crowd&lt;br /&gt;Dancing between the sweet and salt&lt;br /&gt;Let the machines work it out&lt;br /&gt;Better, it’s much better if it loud&lt;br /&gt;I don’t really mind&lt;br /&gt;At times I really gotta loose&lt;br /&gt;But the engines inside myself&lt;br /&gt;Won’t stop my moves&lt;br /&gt;And I see tomorrow rising from my health&lt;br /&gt;It is not just a matter of faith&lt;br /&gt;But it’s fair enough to face&lt;br /&gt;All the things I want, on my own pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate Polladsky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-4251407839242633796?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/4251407839242633796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=4251407839242633796&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4251407839242633796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/4251407839242633796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/silly-heart-sober-heart_16.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3011641132908199683</id><published>2009-06-09T22:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T22:33:01.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p style='text-align: justify'&gt;&lt;span style='color:#365f91; font-size:12pt'&gt;Não sei bem em que estado se encontra o que sinto agora. Por mim, vou lhes ser sincera, já teria inibido ou sufocado tudo isso, se conseguisse. Até que definhasse e o passado consumisse. Tenho ficado bem, tenho me cuidado ainda que não pensasse em levar a sério as suas palavras tão comuns quando de despedida: Se cuida. Parece-me frio e distante, uma passagem única com uma entrada só: apenas de saída. Acho que todos sabemos dizer adeus, mas não aprendo a ir embora, não sempre. Permaneço por um tempo, nutrida de expectativas que não me fazem crescer nem um pouco, apenas me mantém viva. Gostar muito de alguém parecia algo de insistente consciência, e agora perde a razão de ser. Vai desistindo de si mesma. Agora eu devo estar numa espécie de portal que ora consome e me repõe sentimentos, ou seriam neste momento apenas vontades? Na verdade, tanto faz. Não existe diferença, assim como não existiriam resultados. Foi quase sempre assim. O que eu sinto é suficiente pra ter comigo, mas nada faz crer que é suficiente para que eu leve adiante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style='text-align: justify'&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style='text-align: justify'&gt;&lt;span style='color:#365f91; font-size:12pt'&gt;Kate Polladsky &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3011641132908199683?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3011641132908199683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3011641132908199683&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3011641132908199683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3011641132908199683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/nao-sei-bem-em-que-estado-se-encontra-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-2378132976995330259</id><published>2009-06-09T18:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T18:49:39.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My mind hosts you endlessly but my heart; it flames hardly and then fades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I strange the advantage on it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thinking of you as if it hydrated me all but kills me of hunger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I won't have you, not ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And so, I feel like I wasn't made to love again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Has love made me empty in a sudden, so the pain has a place to fill?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It comes as a cuddle and delusion, for the reason of tying me all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tighter as it should be, allow me to choke once again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And makes it lame to feels these feelings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Takes too much time, takes a lot of me, and takes me to nowhere. Really&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Letting me aware I'm nothing or no one able to fight against&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Except when the days overcome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Time has to be the only way to fix it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When my mind corrupts my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When I'm not in fire nor is it gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Bradley Hand ITC;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;KP &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-2378132976995330259?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/2378132976995330259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=2378132976995330259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2378132976995330259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/2378132976995330259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-mind-hosts-you-endlessly-but-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22841206.post-3965118879949056785</id><published>2009-06-06T23:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T23:38:38.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Aquele instante não se conta. O teu cheiro existe somente naquele quarto, o teu beijo existe somente naquele fato e teu sorriso, somente naquela foto. Não posso voltar lá... "Desculpe, o seu amor não se encontra". Não volte mais. Não volte atrás. Passado é passado. As portas não se abrem, elas apenas guardam. Meu vazio ganha espaço com o tempo, é tudo um tanto quanto lento. Vai se distanciando do alcançável. Até que eu me canse e aquele instante... descanse em paz. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;KP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22841206-3965118879949056785?l=turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/feeds/3965118879949056785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22841206&amp;postID=3965118879949056785&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3965118879949056785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22841206/posts/default/3965118879949056785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turnchaosintoart.blogspot.com/2009/06/aquele-instante-nao-se-conta.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate Polladsky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11876976189789138644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTn1OS6RCfk/TyPtTiCV8wI/AAAAAAAAAjA/OarIpcpRwoA/s220/m.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
