<?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-4535121047357383043</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:47:01.949-08:00</updated><category term='Evan'/><category term='Devaneio nº 1'/><category term='O gato - que não é o de botas e nem o de Alice'/><category term='Devaneio nº 7'/><title type='text'>Alegorias</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DASCipriano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09627727908295661325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535121047357383043.post-4104022166882667142</id><published>2007-12-15T14:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:08:19.521-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='O gato - que não é o de botas e nem o de Alice'/><title type='text'>O início</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2RVS7TOdVI/AAAAAAAAABA/HlKmOOkn99o/s1600-h/gato.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2RVS7TOdVI/AAAAAAAAABA/HlKmOOkn99o/s320/gato.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144330458008286546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Falando em animais..."&lt;br /&gt;Uma família feliz e sorridente num dia ensolarado. A criança acaricia o rosto da bela mulher e o cenário é envolvido por cores e formas que bailam no céu. O quintal surge ao fundo e revela o pique-nique nas bordas na embalagem de margarina.&lt;br /&gt;Uma bolha de sabão baila ao som da voz do locutor no seu slogan final.&lt;br /&gt;"Se eu pudesse num instante não estar aqui, esse lugar me deprime", pensa &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Evan&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Parado em frente a loja de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;eletrodomésticos&lt;/span&gt;, por onde passava todas as tardes após o horário de almoço, debaixo de um sol escaldante, sua expressão muda ao ver um brilho estranho na bolha que baila em sua &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;direção&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Sou o novo, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Evan&lt;/span&gt;! Sou o que você procura!”&lt;br /&gt;Aquela forma sedutora salta da TV, atravessa o vidro e paira diante de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Evan&lt;/span&gt; que a segue como uma criança com seu brinquedo.&lt;br /&gt;A bolha baila sinuosa até estourar do outro lado da rua perto de um gato preto - sem rabo, que ao inclinar a cabeça pede: siga-me!&lt;br /&gt;"Mas que coisa idiota estou fazendo! Alguém já viu um gato sem rabo? Mas talvez seja minha única chance, vou ver onde isso vai dar!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4535121047357383043-4104022166882667142?l=allegories-folktales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/feeds/4104022166882667142/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4535121047357383043&amp;postID=4104022166882667142' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/4104022166882667142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/4104022166882667142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/2007/12/o-incio.html' title='O início'/><author><name>DASCipriano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09627727908295661325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2RVS7TOdVI/AAAAAAAAABA/HlKmOOkn99o/s72-c/gato.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535121047357383043.post-7158018877624062963</id><published>2007-12-15T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:07:52.509-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evan'/><title type='text'>Evan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2RQiLTOdUI/AAAAAAAAAA4/AMt3SkumfjM/s1600-h/evan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2RQiLTOdUI/AAAAAAAAAA4/AMt3SkumfjM/s320/evan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144325222443152706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;"Futuro, passado, presente... Tudo o que sei é viver nesse sistema de entradas e saídas... as quais sempre vão para algum lugar. Se você se perde, há alguém a te reconduzir.  Meu desejo é ser mais transparente e enxergar os fatos como realmente são.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Existem lugares onde o inverno chega mais cedo. Noutras ele nunca se vai. Aqui é um desses lugares. Uma metrópole em que para cada produto existe um valor e pessoas trabalham em troca de minutos de consumo. Nas ruas não existe mais vestígio humano somente animais se vê.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;O sol afia seus raios sobre as superfície de concreto dos edifícios &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;erigidos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; na planície cinza, no vale dos fósseis vivos."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4535121047357383043-7158018877624062963?l=allegories-folktales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/feeds/7158018877624062963/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4535121047357383043&amp;postID=7158018877624062963' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/7158018877624062963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/7158018877624062963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/2007/12/evan.html' title='Evan'/><author><name>DASCipriano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09627727908295661325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2RQiLTOdUI/AAAAAAAAAA4/AMt3SkumfjM/s72-c/evan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535121047357383043.post-4446803834524754547</id><published>2007-12-15T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:07:23.025-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devaneio nº 7'/><title type='text'>Hypónoia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2Q-obTOdRI/AAAAAAAAAAU/eT65wG_dIPY/s1600-h/hyponoia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2Q-obTOdRI/AAAAAAAAAAU/eT65wG_dIPY/s320/hyponoia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144305538608035090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;No lago &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:100%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" &gt;refletida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; pelas águas surge uma imagem brilhante. A luz de tão intensa cegava os olhos de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:100%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" &gt;Evan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; que levou a mão ao nariz, e começou a coçar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;"Mas para quê? Isso não quer dizer coisa alguma!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;"Tudo quer dizer alguma coisa, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:100%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" &gt;Evan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;!" - disse uma mulher vestida de branco, com os cabelos alvos e brilhante como o sol. Ela trazia em suas mãos um globo vermelho, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:100%;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" &gt;incandescente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;. Estendeu os braços e o globo girando lançou-se num suave &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:100%;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" &gt;voo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; até &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:100%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" &gt;Evan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;"Não temas. Você é apenas uma peça do tabuleiro do grande jogo. Antes vieram muitos outros, e outros te sucederão até que seja chegada a hora da partida."&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/4535121047357383043-4446803834524754547?l=allegories-folktales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/feeds/4446803834524754547/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4535121047357383043&amp;postID=4446803834524754547' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/4446803834524754547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/4446803834524754547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/2007/12/hipnoia.html' title='Hypónoia'/><author><name>DASCipriano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09627727908295661325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2Q-obTOdRI/AAAAAAAAAAU/eT65wG_dIPY/s72-c/hyponoia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4535121047357383043.post-1930355266032546431</id><published>2007-12-15T12:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:01:39.098-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devaneio nº 1'/><title type='text'>Aoda</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2Q5PbTOdQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5bdG-tsWvgI/s1600-h/aoda.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2Q5PbTOdQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5bdG-tsWvgI/s320/aoda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144299611553166594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Uma garota passa deslumbrada em meio a grandes colunas de um antigo museu. Já é o fim da tarde. Suas mãos tocam tudo ao seu redor, mas o olhar permanece fixo no caminho a percorrer. Passa por luzes que penetram o corredor através das colunas e entra num salão amplo. Nele, existem bancadas e sobre elas alguns &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;objetos&lt;/span&gt; como &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bibelôs&lt;/span&gt;, bonecas... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Aoda&lt;/span&gt; parece reconhecer nas peças as pessoas que a fizeram.&lt;br /&gt;"Bonecas, num museu? Como vim parar aqui?&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/4535121047357383043-1930355266032546431?l=allegories-folktales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/feeds/1930355266032546431/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4535121047357383043&amp;postID=1930355266032546431' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/1930355266032546431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4535121047357383043/posts/default/1930355266032546431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allegories-folktales.blogspot.com/2007/12/aoda.html' title='Aoda'/><author><name>DASCipriano</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09627727908295661325</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IT2tLZMkQPE/R2Q5PbTOdQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5bdG-tsWvgI/s72-c/aoda.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
